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I think some time back I promised I would discuss my dysfunctional life. Well, here it is, and what better place to start than the awfulness that is my romantic life.

I’m pretty sure I have “daddy issues,” but since I don’t feel like I’m really messed up, I don’t feel like I have daddy issues. Does that make sense? Anyway, I suck at this whole love and relationship thing. My decisions are run like the board of fortune 500 business. My brain has majority stock with 51% so it gets final say on all decisions. The heart is the vice chair, yet, even though it has the next controlling interest, it can often be overruled by the body i.e. want for food or sleep. I think my elbows are in charge of fiscal marketing or some such. Then you go all the way down the list and at the very bottom you have the vagina, dead last with the least sway on the whole operating system.

Why is this important to know? Well I’ll tell you folks, my brain is an asshole, and having an asshole in charge of a million dollar business means tax shelters and chemical dumping in residential drinking water. I’ve always been sort of ho hum on love, even as a child. Now you’d think my great love of Disney films would have messed me up in the opposite direction, but you’d be mistaken. Even as a child I could separate the reality of relationships from the idealizations. This can also be equated to my great hatred for growing up. (I saw through that scam long ago, the Toys R Us theme song got me hip to your game older adults)

My mother told me I couldn’t date until I was sixteen and I was fine with that. My dad said I couldn’t date till I was 30 and I was fine with that as well. I fought boys in the 1st grade for “flirting” with me. That was like an open call to war in my book. When I was in middle school, all of my friends had a crush on some guy or this one guy in particular, and I just didn’t get it. And since most of the girls I knew crushed on someone at some time I just pretended to crush on him too. I didn’t feel anything, I just felt sort of left out and slightly weird, you know? I did have crushes on celebrities and fictional characters though. This might be telling my age, but I was really into Tevin Campbell, but my first real heart go thump thump crush was……Patrick Stewart. That’s right motherf*ckers, f*cking Captain Picard. I stand by it 100% to this day, and I would still jump up on that old Shakespearean ass, what what!

However, as far as real life went, I just wasn’t into it. So time passed and because of my obvious handicap I never knew when a guy was flirting with me or not, because, my flirting sucked/sucks. Like that episode of Friends where Ross keeps talking about gas to the pizza girl he’s trying to flirt with, except I’m just talking about gas and not actually flirting even though flirting was, apparently, initialized.

So imagine my surprise in high school, when I get a bit of a crush on this guy. He’s really sweet, and funny, and he’s in the ROTC so that means once a week he wore a uniform and DAYUM. Did I mention he was super gay? Oh yeah, he was totes gay. My very first official live person crush was freaking gay, of course. I think I set the tone for my love life right there. A year later I think, I got a real boyfriend, and he was straight and everything. I liked him, I found him attractive, and I have/had a good love for him, but I don’t think I would call it can’t live without you die kind of love. It was an emotional attachment that I was able to detach pretty seamlessly 2 years later when I went off to college.

And you know what? I was relieved! Not because I wanted meet new guys or didn’t think my ex-boo was the best, cause he totally was/is (I still keep in touch with him cause he’s sort of awesome), I was relieved because I didn’t have anyone else’s emotional well being to worry about except my own. I didn’t date anyone for 4 years after I broke up with high school beau. Not a casual first date, or a talk on the phone get to know you thing, nothing. And I was perfectly happy with that. Then inexplicably there was a guy I liked, and I talked to him everyday, and we went out on a date, and then it took him three weeks to call me. My response to his not returning my call after a week was, (call, singular, there was one and voicemail and that is literally the extent of my effort when I am interested, no return call then…)Fuck that noise. I like to take hints, and when you don’t call to talk to me, the hint is that you’re not interested, and I hear you loud and clear.

And everything after that is kind of a boring blah blah. In my professional opinion I’ve had 4 guys that I would officially recognize as ex-boyfriends. I’m 50/50 for long term vs. short term relationships in that regard, but in reality, the number of short terms is probably much higher if you factor in relationships that never got started because I’m a Vulcan asshole. I like logic and if something doesn’t make sense to me then I don’t pursue it. Which is a double edged sword when it comes to relationships. Yes it weeds out the undesirables, but it also throws a monkey wrench into a relationship trying to find its footing. You have to listen to your heart a little bit to make sure that you’re not being a robot as one friend lovingly calls me.

But that doesn’t work too well for me either I figured, because…..well I don’t really speak the same language of my heart, so it’s really difficult to communicate with it. So in my last relationship I went back to being that little 5th grader who was just pretending to crush so she wouldn’t be the weird one. I thought my ex was hot (he was biracial and Russian, ooh la la) our conversation could have been more stimulating for me anyway, but it wasn’t terrible. We had fun together and once again I had emotions for him, I would even hazard to say there was a type of in loveness about it. And because this relationship happened right at the beginning of mid-twenties, and because I love to over self analyze I decided that, okay, it’s time to be an adult. (whatever the hell that means) So instead of calling it quits when things got hard I decided that I would do what I’d only witnessed and assumed other adults did, which was try to talk and work it out (yuck).

The end result being, that I stayed in a relationship much longer than I would or should have, and made a lot of compromises that just weren’t true to myself. With my end conclusion being that we just really weren’t compatible to begin with and were trying to force a square peg through a round hole. So we broke up, and I mourned the loss of my routine, and the time and energy I put into the relationship, and the adoration I was getting; but I’m not sure if I felt sad for the loss of the person, which is pretty messed up.

So I went on with life and made the conscious decision to abstain from dating while, unless I met someone really phenomenal; which evolved into abstain from dating for while; which has coalesced into abstain from dating, period.  And now I don’t date, and I don’t feel weird or bad about that. I think it’s my most natural state. I don’t see the point in participating in something that I’ve never been that jazzed about from the beginning.

My friends, god bless their meddling souls, have individually yet collectively begun to spin a little web of “you need to date” around me. It’s been…..oh shazbot, it’s been 3 years! Ha ha ha, no wonder they are concerned. It’s okay loves, really I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. Even some of my coworkers have picked up on the, I don’t think she’s been with anyone in a while vibe. Is it my deodorant? Do I smell like selfishness and apathy? They’ve started suggesting hookups and blind dates for me, I seriously thought that only happened in movies. Maybe my life is a movie now. If the end result is me in the Bahamas with Tom Hiddleston, then let this Rom Com commence!

 

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