Aaand, I’m never telling another guy I date that I have a blog and I use it to talk shit on men. Good plan.
Sooo…. There’s starting to be a troubling trend in my life.
I realize that you didn’t ask what this revelation was, and I bet you don’t really care, because I wouldn’t care since this is a very blatantly selfish post. But- I’m going to tell you anyway becuase I want to hash this out with myself and see where my mind takes me. I will also probably delete this post in 3 days becuase I promised all 4 of my readers (hi mom!) that I would stop being melodramatic and introspective because self-searching isn’t funny. It’s sad.
Anyway. I haven’t been emotionally interested in anyone new for a year. I understand this sounds like absolutely nothing and you’re probably sitting there like, “ummmm, you’re a douchebag. Stop thinking so much, you’re obviously not good at it.” But let me explain before you get all judgey and mean.
I dated muscles for a while, then Mr. Pretty, then the Libra. They overlapped one another and came back around and did start-stop things, all since 2009. Nobody new. I’m scared of new people. No, I’m terrified of new people.
And it’s unfortunate because I don’t really want to be single. I’ve lived that phase out and I’ve had fun and gone crazy and been selfish without thinking about how other people felt. I’ve used that phrase, “I’m only going to be young once.” I’m still young, but that phrase makes a lot less sense tonight than it did when I threw it around as an excuse.
Mr. Pretty and I were volatile (I know, I know… stop talking about it right?), but I thought it was just going to be a really good story one day. Ironically enough, it’s a shitty story and it makes me sound like a moron. Or Taylor Swift minus the fame. Same thing I suppose. And I was so wounded by it that I only dated people I was positive were safe. Muscles loved me, and still does. When the Libra and I dated the first time around, he was smitten and I was too busy feeling bad about myself to realize that it had potential.
So when I finally got over Mr. Pretty and finally saw that relationship for all of its awfulness, I didn’t think much about the fact that I kind of pranced around with Muscles again. When Muscles annoyed me to the point of outbursts, I didn’t think much about the fact that I went bee-lining for the Libra. What I didn’t think about was that, hey! maybe the the Libra isn’t smitten with me anymore. What a thought, right?
Well the Libra is not smitten. He’s actually on the rebound. And he’s actually still recovering from that. And for those reasons and some others I won’t bother to write about here, we parted ways. He and I doing so isn’t the point of this though… it’s just… WHAT THE FUCK WAS I DOING?
My relationships all have a similar trajectory, which is alarming. Want to know what it is? Of course you don’t! That’s why I’m going to tell you anyway.
We meet. He’s all about it and I’m sort of “eehhhh” about it. Then we stop talking because I behave like a 16 year old then I’m all, “wait! I’m totally sprung on you. We’d have hot babies. Wanna get married?” And then he goes, “Not really...” and I respond with “Seriously, I’m totally the right girl for you… WHY CAN’T YOU JUST GROW UP AND SEE HOW AWESOME I AM?!” and then, after staring at my cell phone for 76 hours straight begging for the LED light to blink or debating whether or not my phone is even working, I give an ultimatum because I’m delerious from no sleep and he’s like, “I’d really rather not.” And then I say, “Okay.” The end.
People always say that admitting you have a problem is the first step. So world, please consider this my first step. I don’t want to be with someone who doesn’t like me. Honestly, I’d prefer someone who thought I was nice. Or funny. Or both, whatever. I’m just worried that I kind of forgot how. My need to be in control of people superceded my ability to recognize when people weren’t right for me. Can I unlearn that? Is that like teaching a child how to un-walk? Or is it like actually breaking an addiction?
This sucks. I couldn’t get a cool addiction that would land me on A&E. I’m stuck with this bullshit cliche tendency that makes me more Dear Abby and less reality television.
*Also, I am concerned that the Libra is reading this (in which case Heyyyyy… this is awkward…) Because if I were him and I told someone that I just “couldn’t” God knows I would totally hit up their blog and be like this bitch is totally talking shit. But I’m not. Because I’m a grown up.*
I’ve mentioned before that I’m fairly certain that men are taught all kinds of questionable things throughout life that they later unleash on unsuspecting female victims (me). Sadly, the list goes on… I’m going to start periodically updating the list because it seems to grow with every new guy I meet who mistakenly thinks that his bullshit lines and backwards hats will leave me falling all over myself to take his pants off.
- Cargo shorts. Abercrombie made a bunch, mass produced them and then sent forth the poorly-dressed masses… still donning enough pockets to carry food for the next year. Cargo shorts have a purpose… I understand and appreciate that some people (homeless, carpentry-folks) need to carry lots-o-stuff in their pants. The average guy on a Sunday does not. THROW THEM AWAY. (A related one would be puka-shell necklaces. The 90’s were cruel to men).
- The “I’ll bring my friends, you bring your friends” meet-up. I have a number of complaints with this. First off, very rarely does one hot guy come with 4 hot friends. More often than not, i.e. last weekend for me, the hot guy comes with his random friend who belongs in a 70’s porn and his other friend who turns out to be gay. Let me be clear- I am neutral towards both gay and 70’s porn, but my friends have no desire to date either. Plus, if you’re not man enough to see me one-on-one, even if I am admittedly slightly crazy, I don’t really need to continue seeing you…. (there are exceptions to this rule).
- I’ve said this before, but: guys who consistently flaunt their money. I am not a gold digger. You are not that hot. This will not work no matter how many times you flash me the wad of cash in your wallet. Living in Orange County, I’m inundated by these types of guys.
- The “up-down.” The only time this has ever, ever worked is in Friends. Joey’s character up-down’s girls and then follows up with a super-guido “how YOU doin’?” Admittedly, Joey is an endearingly dumb man with magical female skills. But the thing to take note of is that this is not reality. It is in fact, an episode of television. Period. But when I’m strolling through a bar dodging the super-drunk girls and the super-creepy guys, catching a man follow the line of my body from top to bottom is far from flattering. Stop it.
- Grammar in texts. Well, grammar in general is a big thing for me. Men are a little lackluster in this area, which I completely forgive and find borderline attractive. What I can’t stand is when they go crazy with the punctuation. “Do I get 2 c u this wknd???!!?” Sweet Jesus. If you text like that, then hell no. It’s alarming, and I feel more pressured than flattered that you want to see me. “Whatcha up to???” How curious are you?! Does it really warrant three question marks? Just the one would send the message… is your finger stuck? Did you fall asleep on your iphone keyboard? It’s confusing… and weird.
- Peeing in things that are not toilets. This should never happen between dates 1-25. And after date 25, it should happen sparingly, if ever.
- Drunk texts. Everybody likes someone who knows how to have fun. But when my phone is buzzing itself into vibration-heaven at 3am, you go very rapidly from entertaining to annoying. And when you wake up to texts like my roommate did the other morning that make no sense and read, “Hi im food are you awake?” you lose a lot of points really quickly. Drunk texts are great if you’re deep into a relationship, or if it’s an ex spilling his heart, allowing you for a brief victory dance. However, the only thing worse than drunk texts is probably drunk texts that the guy can’t remember sending… way to be a douche.
The list goes on. I will say that women have equally misguided tendencies. For instance, a friend told me that a recent study performed on men between the ages of 18 and 30 showed that men are actually most attracted to the collarbone of all the parts on a woman. I tested the theory out. For two weeks, I wore collar-bone accentuating shirts. Let me tell you- men may enjoy a good collarbone from time to time, but they’re all suckers for some good cleavage. Lesson learned.