So here goes...
I've not written about the man I'm currently "seeing" because...
1. I am the Princess of Procrastination
2. It turns out I don't want a boyfriend after all.
3. Men just suck.
4. I am frightened to death of intimacy.
5. If I talk about him, it makes it real.
You can pick one or all of the above statements as to why I haven't written about him because they are all true.
I am so not a picnic to be around. Seriously, I am moody, I am very slow to trust, and I hide my true, seriously empathetic nature behind cynicism and snark.
Who would want to deal with this?
My last serious serious boyfriend (meaning someone I actually had to meet the parents of) was warned early on (the third date) that I would do everything within my power to push him away. After the first two weeks, he commented to me this, "You weren't kidding. You push harder than I anticipated."
It's totally true.
20 years of dating, probably 13-14 years of heartache, and only 5-6 years of happiness wear a woman down. I mean, a gal's got to do what a gal's to do, and, if that means keeping your self-respect at the experience of eating alone, traveling alone, and HELL being alone for the majority of your adult life, then that's what you do. That being said. I think I've actually gotten to the point (and I've written about this before), where I enjoy myself more than I do other people. Maybe the more honest assessment is that it takes much longer than it used to for me to open myself up to being with someone.
Let's not get anything wrong here. I love men. I LOVE men. I've been boy crazy since I came out of the womb (ask my mom). I am the most hopeless of romantics but sadly and really of my own making I never got to experience the dream that my girlfriends did (the perfect boyfriend, the engagement, the wedding, the honeymoon, the newlywed thing, the babies). I had a great time doing what I did do, but I didn't really make the kind of choices that would have led me down the traditional path. There is no one to blame for that but me. Truly, I made all sorts of choices, and now I have to live with them.
I think maybe the only thing I really would have liked would have been to walk down the aisle with my dad or give my mom a grandchild. When I think of that, I have regret because I know how much happiness either or both of those traditions would have meant to them.
I am totally getting away from talking about the man I'm currently "seeing" which means you can add
6. Blather on about absolute crap until I forget why I even started this blog post.
I guess we'll have to hold off on Mr. Maybe I'm Seeing Him, Maybe I'm Not until another day.
1. I am the Princess of Procrastination
2. It turns out I don't want a boyfriend after all.
3. Men just suck.
4. I am frightened to death of intimacy.
5. If I talk about him, it makes it real.
You can pick one or all of the above statements as to why I haven't written about him because they are all true.
I am so not a picnic to be around. Seriously, I am moody, I am very slow to trust, and I hide my true, seriously empathetic nature behind cynicism and snark.
Who would want to deal with this?
My last serious serious boyfriend (meaning someone I actually had to meet the parents of) was warned early on (the third date) that I would do everything within my power to push him away. After the first two weeks, he commented to me this, "You weren't kidding. You push harder than I anticipated."
It's totally true.
20 years of dating, probably 13-14 years of heartache, and only 5-6 years of happiness wear a woman down. I mean, a gal's got to do what a gal's to do, and, if that means keeping your self-respect at the experience of eating alone, traveling alone, and HELL being alone for the majority of your adult life, then that's what you do. That being said. I think I've actually gotten to the point (and I've written about this before), where I enjoy myself more than I do other people. Maybe the more honest assessment is that it takes much longer than it used to for me to open myself up to being with someone.
Let's not get anything wrong here. I love men. I LOVE men. I've been boy crazy since I came out of the womb (ask my mom). I am the most hopeless of romantics but sadly and really of my own making I never got to experience the dream that my girlfriends did (the perfect boyfriend, the engagement, the wedding, the honeymoon, the newlywed thing, the babies). I had a great time doing what I did do, but I didn't really make the kind of choices that would have led me down the traditional path. There is no one to blame for that but me. Truly, I made all sorts of choices, and now I have to live with them.
I think maybe the only thing I really would have liked would have been to walk down the aisle with my dad or give my mom a grandchild. When I think of that, I have regret because I know how much happiness either or both of those traditions would have meant to them.
I am totally getting away from talking about the man I'm currently "seeing" which means you can add
6. Blather on about absolute crap until I forget why I even started this blog post.
I guess we'll have to hold off on Mr. Maybe I'm Seeing Him, Maybe I'm Not until another day.
