take your mid-life crisis and shove it up your ass

This is just me venting.

Nothing says I'm dying for you to be my boyfriend like me dumping you when I start to feel like we're getting too close. This dude I was dating is really pulling a revisionist history lesson on all our mutual friends, and it's really starting to get on my nerves. I tell him I have walls, I give him a million reasons why I don't want anything other than a sexual relationship with him, and what is his response? He tells me not to to worry, and he starts asking me to hang out EVERY SINGLE DAY. Every time I remind him that it's just banging, he makes some comment about how it's more than that. I tell him to bang other broads, I let him know that I'm hooking up with other people, and what is his response? He says he's only hooking up with me, that he doesn't have time for anyone else. He (NOT I) starts throwing around statements like "we're dating" and "we're in a relationship," and I let him know that those words make me uncomfortable, so what does he do? He continues to say them, he wants me to stay at his house even when he's not around, and he even goes so far as to make jokes involving him meeting my family at Thanksgiving. What's my response? That he won't be around long enough to do that. However, I tell him that he's starting to break down my walls with all his kindness and affection, and he replies positively. It finally gets to the point where I really start having intense feelings for him, and I tell him that I need to back off. I tell him that I'm getting too confused, too attached, too emotional, and that I can't see him anymore. What is his almost instantaneous response? He wants to have coffee with me the next day. I tell him I can't. But I can't stop feeling the attachment. The walls have been chipped away at, I am vulnerable, and I start texting him every night, always ending my messages with a "Please don't respond. Please be smarter than me." I realize how much I like him and how, even if I can't date him, I'd still like him in my life. I email him this information, and he is happy to welcome me back in; but he embraces me back into his life with boxing gloves on. Since we've decided to be "friends," all I get from him are snarky, mean-spirited, bitter-in-tone comments, delivered with an air of forced apathy. He makes public proclamations about meeting other women, and I say nothing, because his dating life is now his business and not mine, but when I talk about meeting other men, he jumps down my throat and starts making judgment calls, claiming to truly know what I want in my personal life. So I tell him to fuck off for good. I guess I'm just writing all this because I know it's the one place no one will look, because I don't want to put my friends in the middle of bullshit that is over, anyway.

Phew, I feel better.

tired of dating

i think i am going to become a hare krishna so that i don't have to worry about dating. i'll have my spiritual guide set me up with whomever he or she believes is right for me and, after a month or so, we'll be sealed for eternity. a friend of a friend did that, and now he's got a wife and three kids and gets to cheat on her all the time with whatever hot babe comes his way, apparently. so, my life wouldn't be any different than it is now, except for the fact that i'd have someone to come home to every night, which is exactly what i want, anyway.

what became so difficult in the last few years? why does it seem impossible just to find someone to like, hitch my trailer up to his truck, and ride off into the sunset together? now everyone's got baggage, three jobs, twelve hobbies, a chip on his shoulder, a torch he's carrying for his ex-girlfriend, and too many friends to even give me the time of month, let alone the time of day. i'm sorry that hanging out with me is cutting into the time you normally spend preparing for your animal reiki session/vegan-cuban culinary class/m.m.a.-jai alia-lacrosse fusion league, but you're in your early thirties. aren't you even remotely concerned with dying alone in a dilapidated, out-of-the-way rest home? i mean, i'm twenty-six and i obsess over such major events that might happen within the next sixty years of my life.

i met this guy and i thought i was making all the right dating moves. i didn't act crazy, i let him take me out on dates, i was more than obliging with his busy schedule. sure, things got exciting quickly, but not overly passionate or romance novelesque. anyhow, this morning he tells me how much he likes me and how i'm one of the raddest girls he's ever met and blahblahblah, but he's freaking out over how quickly things are moving. i tell him "don't sweat it. whenever you're ready call me," and left it at that. but wtf? when i'm crazy, guys don't want me. when i'm standoffish, guys don't want me. when i'm cool as a cucumber, guys don't want me. when i'm friendly and understanding, guys. don't. want. me. i can obviously be one of the coolest broads on the planet, according to this most recent rejector, and guess what? guys still don't want me. i give up.

i even cut all my other dating strings for this one dude--thinking i was making the mistake of having my finger in one too many pots and perhaps that was the reason i wasn't finding anything substantial--and now i'm back to square one, kind of. i still have my one old faithful--you know, the guy who doesn't want anything serious but is a total babe and is fun to hang out with, even though he gets a little old after awhile--and he wants to hang out tonight. but my best girlfriends are back in town as of today, and it's ladies' night. dilemmas dilemmas! what would you do, dear diary?

this must be the place

second place in the human race. elvis costello, anyone? anyhow, i just came back onto blogger.com to find that my account no longer exists, so here it goes again. yes, folks, it's three in the morning and i'm having a bedtime cocktail. and no, i'm not making some desperate faux-bukowski attempt to seem edgy or scumbaggishly bohemian (wow, i'm drinking past bar hours. by myself. and writing. i'm suuuuuch a maverick. i bet i'm smoking cigarettes, too, except that i don't smoke, which makes me even more of a maverick, because, like, you can't pigeonhole me into the box of hipsterdom, man. i'm totally an individual, except for the fact that i freak out any time i find out that people are saying negative things about me behind my back, because i'm actually secretly obsessed with what people think of me. well, i wouldn't say obsessed, but i do try to be all things to all people, and it just wears me thin as taffy. there is somewhat of a narcissistic mind frame in one who actually thinks she has everyone fooled into thinking she's a good person--nay, an exceptional individual. here's the thing: i know i'm crazy, i know i've fucked a lot of dudes, done a lot of drugs, cheated a lot of people out of things they deserved, and lied my way through it all to seem like i was in the right, like i was the victim, whatever. the truth of the matter is, i know i'm crazy. normal people don't agonize over whether they should tell someone they've been dating a week that they think he's the one for eternity. normal people don't have sex for sport. normal people don't listen to pop and punk and see the infinite parallels between the two. normal people don't take eight years to finish college, don't hate bob marley, don't bring flasks on a first date, and definitely don't not shower every day. i get it, i'm off. i don't blame mom, dad, stepdad, first cousin, the media, george w. bush, or anyone else for my neuroses but me. but don't be the person who's just as headraped as i am and call me crazy. calling me crazy is about as insulting as saying i have red hair. i bleed out of my vagina for a good six days out of every month; i think i'm allowed to harangue the checker at my local grocery store about the ludicrousness of inconsistency in avocado quality. i'll be as crazy as i want. you keep drinking yourself to bed every night next to the fiancee who you know doesn't really love you, and i'll be mindful, party of one), i actually just got off work and am having an unwinder before i hit the hay--you know, what most of you do at 7pm on a tuesday, only i work graveyards at a shithole diner in beautiful (?) seal beach, california, so my day ends at around two in the morning. well, more tomorrow. i'm feeling slightly stagnant.