Complacently Ever After

Part of why I’m OK being single (for the most part*), and part of why I’m in therapy, is the relationships I see in my family. I realize I can only go by what I see, but what I see is people who would rather be kind of…dulled and resentful in a relationship than be alone. Especially my mother and sister, I really don’t hear them LIKING their spouses. I’m often their sounding board for all their relationship “squabbles” that to me sound like much larger issues, and that was BEFORE I started therapy.

(* Not even gonna front — I’d really enjoy some sex, and I have a big, heavy mirror I can’t lift, so I could use some assistance there. But otherwise, I’m aight.)

Anyway. All this to say that I’m grateful for the men I know, and for the relationships I’ve had. Because I’ve never dated anyone shitty for more than a couple months, and I was quickly able to see, “Oh, you’re shitty. We’re done here.” I’ve never had to prattle on for an hour straight about all the things my boyfriend doesn’t do to my liking, or found myself unable to address issues WITH a boyfriend and have him at least try to understand. And I think that’s partly because I KNOW there ARE decent dudes out there. I’ve dated them, I’ve worked with them, my friends have married them. And I’m (mostly*) fine being alone until one arrives in my life.

It’s been kind of a shit year for men, and rightly so, but hey, here’s to the good ones, eh?🍸

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Bitch-Babies ‘R’ Us

Tonight I’m going to a party where I may or may not see Guy I Dated for a Minute, and I officially hate my brain and its tendency to overthink. Mostly because it’s overthinking the fact that HE’s likely not overthinking a goddamn thing.

I should mention: I am fully aware he tapped — heh — into some things in my brain he couldn’t POSSIBLY have known about. I could’ve behaved differently, so I know it’s not totally his fault that he’s a giant bitch-baby.

This is a perfectly logical life plan.

I have this habit of intending to respond to OkCupid messages, but then I forget about it, or I want to wait until I’m at a computer instead of my phone, and then suddenly a week has passed and I think, “Well, if I really wanted to reply, I would’ve made it more of a priority,” so I just delete the message.

When I told my therapist about this, she said, “Hey, maybe don’t do that? You saved those messages for a reason. Either write back or delete them, but letting them sit in your inbox makes them just another to-do item looming in your brain, making you feel like you’re behind on life and bad at being an adult.”

So, um… Can y’all write these dudes back?

Apparently I have hella issues and emotional walls and I think I’m boring so I don’t want to waste anyone’s time? I didn’t know these things about myself — never go to therapy. “I would’ve made it more of priority” sounds far less tragic, like I’m just such a busy, baller boss bitch that I don’t have time for you people and your penises.

But hey, you know what? Frankly I’m doing these men a favor. If I never answer, they’ll never get any of my Crazy on them, and then no one gets hurt. I’ll just continue hiding in my little Singleton cave and never getting laid and letting these feelings deepen and fester until I’m a crazy, old cat lady who dies alone and the cats eat my face. What’s the problem? The cats will be fed!

(Ahem. Why, yes, it has occurred to me that perhaps I should be in therapy twice a week.)

Please Proceed to Prepare for the Penis Purge

I like to think my feminist sensibilities aren’t easily offended — I’m pretty good about picking my battles.

But I just took a 20-minute car ride with my stepfather, and now, men, I’m sorry, but you’re all gonna need to be sacrificed.

It’s like White Trash Melrose Place

The good news is, my new neighbor is either a hot, young-ish guy, or has hot, young-ish guy visitors at 10 pm on Saturday nights.

The bad news is, I learned this by passing said hot, young-ish guy at the common door, as he was walking in and I was walking out to meet the grocery delivery guy…and I was wearing mismatched pajamas and slippers, with hair I THINK was last washed on Thursday?

Um… it’s… um… fashion?

“That’s what Christmas is all about, Charlie Brown.”

I just noticed that Guy I Dated for a Minute has RSVP’ed “yes” to a mutual friend’s holiday party I also said “yes” to.

Whatever, fuckface — I ain’t scared.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to spend the next 3 weeks getting pretty and practicing ignoring douchebags. Because that’s what Jesus would do.

(I’ve realized recently that whole thing messed me up more than it should have. But screw it, that’s what therapy’s for. Let’s dance, Psyche.)

It’s possible I just need a pet.

I’m not saying I wouldn’t be talking to this OkCupid guy if he didn’t have an adorable black dog with blue eyes named Oliver who likes to snuggle.

But I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a factor.