This all seems totally reasonable.

Sometimes I’m recapping therapy in my private journal and I find myself amusing, so I’m posting this excerpt:

“The therapist asked what I’d want from my next relationship, and I told her, ‘I don’t think I’m ready to be a Girlfriend. That would have to be an incredibly slow progression, like I almost feel bad for the guy and the baby steps he’d have to take to get me there. I should have a sign that says, ‘Commitment issues may be closer than they appear. (You’ll get laid, though, don’t worry.)’

“I mentioned the guy I’d been ‘dating’ who brought pancakes to my door uninvited and unannounced the morning after we’d, um…’dated.’ He texted me from outside my door to announce his presence. So I took the pancakes — I’m crazy, not stupid — but didn’t let him in because I was SO caught off-guard by him being there. It got a little Sheldon, like: “You’re in my house. People can’t be in my house,” even though he’d just been there IN MY BED the night before.

“So I guess I’ll let you fuck me but pancakes are too intimate?

“So I told the therapist I want, ‘Someone who’ll have sex with me, but only with me (because diseases, and what if the other women are better in bed than I am?). And they snuggle me for 5-10 minutes after sex and then get the hell out. And they’re not my boyfriend, but we go on dates, and also, they should be at least smart enough to know, like, how Velcro works.'”

“I do not find this at ALL unfair or unreasonable. (Except the Velcro. Come the hell on.)”

The PistachiNO Ice Cream Hypothesis

Some of you might remember, when I was “dating” Old Young Man, that I’m such a girlfriend by nature I bought a pint of his favorite ice cream and put it in my freezer, so after he had sufficiently pleasured me, he could have snacks. (Ice cream: the glutton’s gold star!)

Except that was 6 months ago, and we “broke up” when I realized yet again that I am damaged and unlovable. (Ahem. Or that we didn’t have anything in common, even sexually.)

Anyway. I’m cleaning my kitchen, and I noticed the ice cream in the back of the freezer. While it pains me to throw it out (Ben & Jerry’s, bitches — only the finest for my concubines!), it’s been 6 months. So there’ve been six menstrual cycles and countless feelings-eating days, and not once have I been desperate enough to eat this ice cream. (Maybe pistachio ice cream is my rock bottom?) Also, not one person who’s been in my apartment since Christmas has wanted this ice cream. You know why? Because fucking terrible people eat pistachio. I will use it as a future boyfriend barometer.*

PistachiNO, people.

*It’s a joke. Don’t ruin it.

“I have direction.” “Yeah. Towards the mall.”

I never thought I was a person who would lose myself without a relationship, or who identified herself by her job in any significant way.

But I think a lot of my confidence and identity came from being secure for so long in having a constant relationship support system right in my home, and from having a secure job. Now, without those aspects, I feel kind of unmoored.

For a while it was, “I hate my job, but I have this relationship, so everything is good.” And then we broke up.

Then I got a new job, so, “OK, we’re broken up, but I have my new job to focus on. I’ll be fine.” And then I got laid off.

Now, some days, all the available options aren’t exciting — they’re overwhelming. I can do almost literally anything I want. I just don’t know what I want.

I know, “Boo hoo, woe is me, the world is my oyster.” But it’s surprisingly difficult to process. I’ve been single before, but it’s been 10 years since I’ve had to think of myself much beyond a foundation of “girlfriend” and “employed,” and now I’m neither. I’m just…me. I don’t think I had a very strong sense of self outside of those two aspects. Maybe once I handle “employed,” “self” will follow?

I’d love to tell you I’ve taken this unemployed/alone time to “find myself” or whatever, but mostly I’ve just been trying (successfully, I think) to keep myself from unraveling. I’m just trying to remember basic functions like brushing my teeth, paying bills, and talking to friends so I don’t go Full Recluse. And it’s not as if I’ve been ignoring some booming job market — every time I force myself to look at the job sites, it just gets more depressing. But really, it’s probably time to do something. I just need to figure out what.

We’ll start with the job. That’s more important than any of this relationship noise, and I think I’m finally ready to have something more productive to focus on. (At least I am today. Who the hell knows which Me I’ll wake up to tomorrow.)

But also, I’ll be unemployed for a while longer yet during the application/interview stages, so it’s probably also time I do some of the things I always said I’d do “when I have time.” I have nothing BUT time. Really, the only thing stopping me is me.