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.)”
Smug Singleton 