There is no human. There is only BED!

It occurs to me that if there ever IS a man in this bed, I am such a miserable shit first thing in the morning that I couldn’t let him spend the night. Or he’d have to sleep in another room and agree to leave me alone until the meds, coffee, and a hairbrush make me eligible for human contact.

“Sorry, man. ‘Cute and easygoing’ doesn’t show up ‘til, like, 11. Right now we’re at ‘bridge troll.’”

“Dying alone is fine.”

Therapist: “So, how’s dating? Have you written anyone back on the apps?”

Me: “Of course not, don’t be absurd.”

Therapist: “You know, if you don’t WANT to be dating…”

Me: “It’s not that I don’t WANT to. It’s just… Like we’ve talked about, I want someone who’ll fit into my life, which is pretty decent with just me — well, minus the depressive bits. And I’d SUPER like to have some sex. But about once a month I’ll hear something terrible about a man and I’ll think, ‘Ya know…I don’t really need one of those. Dying alone is fine.’ So I guess I’m just not in a hurry.”

I’ll only be able to write about tampons and Lifetime movies.

Well, thank heaven for this distinction. I’d hate to sully your manly journals with my silly lady thoughts.

You might want to think about emblazoning a dick and balls right on the front cover, just to be 100% safe.

I’m surprised they even allow the idea that men could write in a journal. But y’all definitely write only about MANLY things — sports, cars, power tools, World War II, The Shawshank Redemption, and barbecue.

My needs are simple

I mean… I don’t go to friends’ parties SPECIFICALLY so I can hook up with their friends, but I’m not gonna lie, it does eliminate some of the legwork. Like, OK, I already know you’re not a serial killer or a Trump supporter. Neat. What else ya got?

Huh. Well, this escalated quickly…

If you’ve never had your brain telling you you’re an undateable garbage monster on the SAME day you realize the last person you dated is now in a seemingly happy relationship and that you haven’t had ONE date since you broke up three YEARS ago…I highly, HIGHLY recommend it.

Bright side: I honestly didn’t realize it was him. I think I forgot what he looked like?

So clearly a very serious “relationship.”

I’ll pass on the cattle appraisal, thanks.

I saw this immediately as an opportunity for creepy strangers to read the shirt, assess my body, and offer me commentary on it. Hard pass.

(Though, my therapist and several friends agree I’ve built up my emotional walls SO high that men can’t even see me to BE creepy, so strange men usually don’t talk to me, which…SCORE!)

See, THIS is why I shouldn’t be alone with my thoughts.

This is kind of a lot for a Saturday morning, but I need it out of MY head, so I’ll just vomit it along to you fine people!

I’m going to talk to my therapist about this on Monday, and I’m really not looking forward to it, because I don’t even know where to start in figuring it out.

I don’t know why I can’t just TALK to guys on dating apps. Every time I try to, I freeze up, get anxious, and run away. And I don’t know if it’s because I don’t actually want to date, or that I think I’d feel overwhelmed if I added that to my life (which often already overwhelms me — thanks, Anxiety!), or if I’m scared to…get hurt? To have something actually work out?

I’ve tried thinking about it and I got nothin’. Maybe I just believe I’ll meet someone in person like I always have — online dating has never gotten me anyone worthwhile, so maybe I’m convinced it’s not worth it. I don’t go out a TON, but I go out more than I used to, so it’s not like online is the only way I’m going to meet men.

Do I just really not want to shave my legs more often?

My guess is that it’s all of the above. But if I really don’t want to or don’t think it’s worth it, then I should just delete the accounts and stop wasting everyone’s time.

Ugh. Therapy is gonna suuuuuck. She’s going to make me…feel feelings. And ahhh, fuck, I BET she asks about my dad. 🤢

All my shit is so textbook that they can’t even PUT it in textbooks because it’s too easy. You could tell a toddler my business and they’d be like, “Well, yeah, obviously…”