My heart is a minefield

Honestly, I feel like a fool making such public declarations of having found love and then retracting them like a middle-class housewife with buyer’s remorse.

Also, honestly, this is not a retraction of love. It is a retraction of presence and not of my own. Everything I said about this love is still true. I would have spent a lifetime enjoying the better and wrestling with the “for worse,” but he has chosen to leave.

For the third time in a row, my lover has gone numb and has ceased to feel anything about me, so I probably should be more accustomed to the dull ache of indifference. But I am not.

I am obliterated, and I am exhausted.

I used to think I had a problem with men loving me. I don’t.
I have a problem with men loving me continuously and at the same time as I am willing (and able) to love them.

The typical trajectory – lasting from a few dates to a year – includes this:

Man really enjoys my presence. We laugh a lot.
Man gets scared because the novelty wears off and/or he’s afraid of commitment.
He leaves.
Three to twelve months later (longer for a few), he realizes that the same thing happens in all relationships, but when it does he’s in a relationship with a far shittier person.
He comes back. I get text messages, emails, etc.

The further complication is this: Healing requires scarring, and scarring does not really invite wounds in the same place. Instead, I repeat the cycle with fresh wounds really close to existing scars which is, perhaps, why I always expect a different outcome.

I have grown tired of prodigal lovers.

  • My first internet date was with a pudgy, balding, ginger who I’ll call “Mr. Applebees” because despite the fact that he lives in a city with a great deal of good food, Applebees was his favorite restaurant.
    He re-emerged with via email.

Mr. Applebees:

I responded by sending him a link to Sex and the Pity.

Mr. Applebees:

Me:

Mr. Applebees:

I was trying to tell him something.

  • Fuck You: Chapter 1 has periodically re-emerged even from his re-emergence which is an odd thing because our four “dates” consisted of this:

    1) We talked and he asked to go out “sometime.” I informed him that “sometime” meant that night or in six weeks after I have back surgery and settle down on the narcotics. He came to a bar I liked and then insisted that we ditch it for a bar he liked.

    2) A month after surgery, he came over to hang out with my invalid ass, and I made him watch Mystery Science Theater 3000 with me. He was not amused.

    3) Whilst I was still recovering, we go out. We have some drinks and then climb to the top of an abandoned granary in Minneapolis with a group of his friends. I go home and read my back surgery manual. It says “avoid stairs.” I took extra narcotics that night.

    4) A few years later, I was an idiot and flew to Arizona. We have drinks. He ignores me for the rest of my weekend. I went hiking and to a Bluegrass festival.

  • Fuck You: Chapter 2 has also texted. I responded with a link to this post. He misidentified himself as Fuck You: Chapter 3.

  • Fuck You: Chapter 3’s reinterest was as short-lived as his initial interest.

  • The alcoholic finalist for you’re pretty cool has unsuccessfully attempted a reappearance or two. Fortunately, he became far less attractive, when I realized how much he drank and how rarely he did not. Also, he said these words, “Hydration is a myth.” True story.

  • The other finalist – a resident of Nebraska – disappeared as quickly as he reappeared. In shame, I assume. I’ve learned that booty calls that cross state boundaries are ill-advised. Stupid, even.

  • Mr. elicitor of stabbery knows better than to try to really re-emerge, but he has since learned that sometimes love (much like war) is, well, boring, and that’s okay. Because I still think he’s a decent person, I’ll spare him the full Sex and the Pity treatment.

  • And others who have escaped previous comment on Sex and the Pity occasionally emerge .

    • The man who became exceptionally awkward when I commented on his use of the word “retarded” as a synonym for “stupid.”

    • And one who should have most certainly been included for leaving me for an “almost twenty-one year-old.” He finally came back saying all the things I told him upon the exit he neglected to inform me about. “I don’t know what I was thinking,”  “She just wanted my money,” and my personal favorite, “You are the best woman I’ve ever been with, certainly the smartest.”
      Yes, but not smart enough to avoid it in the first place…

This is all to say that attempts at mutual love have been a long and laborious journey – much like travel through Nebraska – it all pretty much looks the same, and that makes me sad.

Now, I am doing my best walk through the pain, to acknowledge it but not avoid it.
I am not allowing myself distraction with people who will make me feel wanted but whom I will ultimately hurt.

I talk big about being happy alone.

At this moment, I am not, and the ugly truth is that I have rarely been alone for any extended period of time because I break my contentment with a fresh start on the same old trajectory.

So I am working at being alone.

I suppose my current discipline is a step of faith that I can and will be content in my solitude, but for now it is merely discipline.

I am stepping gingerly through the minefield of my heart, reactivating the tripped mines.

It is a healing of sorts, I guess.  A wholeness that only scars can bring.

 

Hot Mess: Volume 11

In general, I have pretty high self-esteem, some might even call it “cockiness.”
Semantics.

I know I’m not all that painful on the eyes. I’m pretty witty, laidback, self-sufficient, and low-maintenance. Also, I could probably kick your ass. This is, perhaps, why I’m perpetually the best friend with whom people really SHOULD be in love, but… There’s always a big “but”…

I’m also aware that many women do not carry themselves with or feel the same sense of confidence that I do. Which is why this is such a terrible first message.

It’s a fucking virtual head pat.

This message says:

  • You seem nice. Too bad your life blows.
  • I’m not quite sure why no-one wants you, but there must be a reason.
  • You seem hot, so you must be crazy.
  • I don’t understand why cupid keeps making you gargle his sweaty balls. You seem cool enough to me.

To add to the low blow, one knows it’s from someone who’s in exactly the same position, someone who thinks he’s a pretty good catch, despite the fact that he’s fictionally 92 years old and who has many interests not limited to, but including, women between the ages of 18 and 45.

Nothing says, “I’m just looking for a someone with (semi)functioning female parts” like a thirty year age range.
Don’t give me any of that, “Age is just a number” bullshit. No one says that or believes it except teenage girls who think they’re in love with guys old enough to buy them liquor, child molesters, old rich guys with trophy wives, and the gold-diggers waiting for them to die.

This message is only a confirmation for my “fuck it” inclination. Until my membership runs out, Match’s sole purpose is for providing me with entertainment while I get matched with myself and heal from their previous “matches”.

Hot Mess: Volume 8

What scares me most about Hot Mess #8 is that he may be responsible for healing and/or keeping people safe.
Oh, also the chest shots. Nothing says, “I think I’m hot” like obvious self-portraits that involve your chest. That goes for the ladies too.

Keep your Myspace pics on Myspace, kids.

Tested Theory: Guys who can’t walk by the mirror without checking themselves out or primping are overrated and, possibly, gay (at least in my study).

Let’s play “Guess My IQ

  • “People look at me and seem to wonder what i’m thinking about, most of the time i’m not exactly sure, but whatever it is probably has to do with how great you are.” I’m gonna have to call “bullshit” on this statement except for his reported confusion and lack of conscious thought. However, if this is true, I guess he’s probably NOT lying when he later says, “There is one thing I haven’t had that much experience in, and that is ‘dating’. Or, at least, these thoughts about how “great you are” are not often mutual.
  • “I have fairly decent values, I know whats ‘good’ vs. whats ‘bad’. I fit into the good category”. Congratulations, you have reached Kohlberg’s first stage of moral development – Pre-conventional Morality. It must be exceedingly convenient to organize your world in neat little dualities and even more convenient, that you fit into the socially acceptable side of these dualities. Your mother must be proud.
  • “I’m also the most mature person there is.” Skeptical. See above. And below.
  • “I feel like going out and doing something; I could go out and take pictures with my cell phone while climbing mountains and riding a bicycle.” Whiskey. Tango. Foxtrot. Recommendation: If you really don’t have anything going on in your head, don’t attempt a stream-of-consciousness writing style.
  • My religion: “that’s kind of a yes or no question” That’s not even a question, except possibly in Pre-conventional Morality. If it is a question, I think his answer may mean, “Yes, I’ll take it – the good one.”
  • Favorite Things: “Any category of music, as long as it’s good music.” Obviously. Should have seen that one coming.

If you guessed that Hot Mess #8’s IQ is 68, you are correct. Just short of both amusing and average.

Hot Mess: Volume 6

I’m going to start with a grand ol’ “What the fuck?” on this here beauty, starting with this dapper fellow’s facial hair stylings.

I’m pretty sure that this is the portion of my profile to which this  fine gentleman is responding. You see, I have a strong aversion to the utterly pointless and creepy cyber winking that Match advertises as flirty and as “communication”.

I’m not exactly sure what he’s implying by, “if that’s the kind of students you have, you prolly met someone like me b4.” Kids whose “hienies” get molested by old ladies with lots of rings? Students who are old ladies? I’m at a loss.

“Rick T. THE GREAT. est technician that ever lived. lol.” is “too smart for anyone to figure out.”
Go figure. He got me figured out right quick. I’m oil. I am also a woman, so it’s best to find out what’s for dinner.

I’d also be willing to wager that the cigarettes in his pocket are Winners…that or Marlboro lights. Ick to the tenth power.

Consolation prize: I have “nice grammar”.

Re-Emergency: or fuck you, fuck you, you’re pretty cool, and fuck you

A couple months ago I had a revelation that the only reason I was even attempting to still date was because I had paid for a service, and I didn’t want that to go to waste. It took a long time for it to dawn on my that not wasting money was a very stupid reason to keep putting myself through the same bullshit – lather, rinse, repeat. So I made a deal with myself that I would take a last stab in the dark and then quit.
Stab status: Fail.

My journey toward contentment must have caused a great disturbance in the force as men from my past seemed to gather and decide it was time to reemerge into my text message inbox and psyche. I’ll spare you the whole story of who and why and wherefore I might have met them. Instead, I will share some fun-nuggets (ironically, made out of shit).

All names have been changed to arbitrary characters or blurred to protect the ignorant from friends who would consider punching them in the face.


Fuck You: Chapter 1 (Abridged)

Once upon a time (in November of last year) I traveled across the country to visit a man for a long weekend. During this long weekend, I saw this man one time for about three hours. He backed out of plans twice. I flew home and was forgotten at the airport. I took an expensive cab ride home. The end?

No, of course not.

Prince Charming: 12.11, 9:15 pm – hi… I miss u.
Me: I don’t really see how that’s possible. You hardly saw me.
Prince Charming: 12.11, 9:46 pm – i know, but…. I like u. wish u would have stayed longer.

Whiskey. Tango. Foxtrot?

But wait, there’s more!

He hit up the facebook inbox.

And then, the facebook wall.


Fuck You: Chapter 2

The first disappearance of Idiot A.

5.08, 2:20 am – Hi there…it’s late.
5.08, 2:30 am – …you wouldn’t happen to be up now would ya?
5.09, 2:37 am – Journey rules!
5.13, 3:32 am – Hello.
5.13, 3:33 am – I. Need. To. Get. Outta. Here.
5.13, 4:42 am – Nighnught
5.13, 3:20 pm – Sorry about the post-work celebratory texting. I think my final went swimmingly.

The second coming of Idiot A.

6.12, 2:49 am – So…I really miss hanging out with you. I realize yr probably done or need a better explanation, which I’d share if you’d like….calculas is kicking my ass.
6.12, 11:40 am – I know “busy” doesn’t really cut it (even though I was with finals and then a family trip to TN) but I really would like to! I like the cut of your jib, kid, ya got moxy.

The third disappearance of Idiot A.

8.31, 10:41 pm – Hey pretty stranger. How ya been?
After silence – 8.31, 10:58 pm – You present a valid point. Sorry to bother you. Just wondered how you were.
8.31, 11:35 pm – …at the risk of sounding redundant, I think it would be really great to study with you sometime. I just think you’re pretty cool and would rather there not be bad blood and/or weirdness…

The appearance of Idiot B: Played by myself

9.1 – Idiot B actually hung out with this dude again. Haven’t heard from him since and would be willing to make bets that I won’t for at least thirty days.

 

Fuck You: Chapter 3 (Abridged)

Conversation highlights:

Me: Might I ask why the sudden re-interest?
Dude: I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’ve been hitting on you pretty hardcore for a while now.
Me: I don’t know if I would say “hardcore” unless by “hardcore” you mean that you talk to me when I happen to be in your general vicinity.
….
Me: No, but really why are you back now?

Wait for it…

Dude: Your hips. (He goes on to explain why he likes my hips and others like or unlike them.)

At this point I was kind of waiting for him to go on with other reasons – maybe something related to a quality that I have more control over or more pride in, but, apparently, that was it.

Unsolicited advice: If you are struggling to name some good qualities of mine, ask me. I’ve known and liked myself for most of my life.

After this evening of “bliss,” he was really interested for about a week which roughly mirrored his first period of intense interest. After that he no longer seemed to acknowledge my existence while in the same place (except once), which, apparently, is the opposite of hitting on me “pretty hardcore.”


Finalists for the “You’re Pretty Cool” Category:

Bachelor #1: Drinks too much.
Bachelor #2: Lives in another state.