Thursday, June 25th, 2009
So, the past few weeks, I’ve been coming to terms with the ending of what was a pretty decent relationship with a kind of awesome fella. That adjustment from having someone in your life one minute and them being gone the next, obviously has its ups and downs. But I’ve surprised myself with how well I’ve coped. I guess when you’ve been in as many shitty relationships as I, you become a master of the break up.
But it was just a few days ago when it dawned on me: I’m now officially single again. I’m ‘out there.’ I’m on the scene, in the circuit. Christ. That’s the last fucking thing I wanted. Oh, the being single part doesn’t bother me. In case you hadn’t realised, I’m pretty frikkin’ awesome, so I don’t mind spending time with myself. What bothers me is trying to navigate the murky waters of relations with a new member of the male tribe.
I’m getting too tired to dance the dance. The smiling, the flirting, the pretending to give a shit, the endless stroking of the male ego, the low cut tops, the constant pedicures, the deciding what kind of bikini wax to get, the resentment of having to get a bikini wax at all, the ‘who pays’ debate, the ‘who calls who’ debate, the ‘where are we going’ talk – Give me strength! I just cannot be arsed to dip my toe in those waters.
Let me give you a little insight into my relationships of yore:
Pretty self explanatory. He was a crackhead. Our delightful journey can be found here.
A rather annoying fellow a couple of years my junior. He was into mixed martial arts, but didn’t know how to keep it inside the ring and one day, beat up some kid so badly the kid ended up in a coma. He went to court for that and was sent to jail. But he neglected to tell me any of this, so he basically just disappeared for three months and then reappeared like nothing had happened, telling me he’d been on holiday. Yeah, seriously.
The Short Dude
Nice enough guy, but had a severe case of Napoleon Syndrome. He pretty much solidified what I’d known all along: never date a short dude.
Cheated on me (or I should say with me, as I was unknowingly the ‘other woman’) our whole relationship. When I found out the truth, he came to my house, assaulted me, stole my computer and my watch and spent 48 hours attempting to blackmail me to drop the charges.
So, can you see why I might be a bit jaded? All of the above assholes seemed like perfectly normal chaps when I first met them. But you know, for the first month or so, you’re really just meeting that person’s representative. The real guy makes an appearance a few months down the line and before you know it, you’re with a crackhead or filing police reports or about to whoop some short guy’s ass.
Clearly, I need to make better choices (ironically, the most recent break up? That guy was my better choice), I know this.
Right now, I would like a nice, lighthearted summer fling. That’s it. Nothing more. Leave your police record, drug habits, kickboxing choke holds and whatever else at home. Please just bring your sanity. And stunning good looks. And 6’4″ height. And baby oil.
Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?