I’m not entirely sure when exactly my life became the script of a really poorly written sitcom, but here we all are, she writes as she continues to eat the half of a chocolate pie she pulled out of the fridge for breakfast, as she is too damn lazy to make eggs, obviously trying to illustrate the point she was trying to make.
This is where I am at now. Comical levels of sadness. So comical in fact that I could actually be Sadness if anyone ever did the live action version of Inside Out. Which is a vast departure from the state I was in the last time I put pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard as it were) to write my story. The last time you and I were together, I was sitting on the beach with Chuck, so happy to have a wonderful, beautiful new boyfriend. I was enjoying our time together, and enjoying having someone in my life that I liked. Of course, because it’s me, and my life after all is a sitcom, that feeling of joy didn’t last more than a full month after that. I’m not sure if it was the sleeping with someone else that ruined it for me, the fact that he slept with someone who found out she had Chlamydia, or the fact that he couldn’t figure out why I didn’t want to stay with him because of those two facts (he had apologized for cheating after all, AND he got me meds to take just in case I had gotten Chlamydia from him, and hey, he at least told me he cheated, he didn’t have to, so isn’t he a great guy, and can’t we just work things out?) and then proceeded to essentially stalk me for the following month till I threatened to go to the cops. I’m not sure which of those three things really made me not like him. I mean he’s obviously such a catch, I should have just been thankful that he wanted to be with me. *eyes roll so far back into my head that I go blind*
After all that I took a little break from dating, haha, just kidding, no I didn’t, I got back onto Plenty of Fish and Tinder almost immediately, and by December, I had started meeting new people. It was pretty slow going, not much to write about, until I got a message from a ghost named Max. He sent me this really long message, apologizing for being such an asshole to me, and asked if I’d like to meet him for dinner sometime. I messaged back laying down the law that if we were going to hang out again it would be on my terms. So we did, and it was like a year had not passed. I got the same feeling I had last year when we had spent time together, and it wasn’t actually until we were having sex, that I felt different. Yes, I slept with him, can we save the judgment (I’m projecting here, I know this, shut up) for later in this post? Cause I’m betting you are gonna need all the judgment you got for later. Anyways, when we were making the sex it was like my brain woke up and reminded me of how he treated me last year. I started to give myself shit, like all he has to do is say he’s sorry, pay for your meal and buy you some really fancy expensive yarn (yes, he did that, and it’s beautiful and I can’t decide what I want to make with it) and you are back in his bed, and feeling like absolute garbage? What in the actual fuck is the matter with you? So needless to say I left his place very unsettled and unsatisfied. We saw a movie together a week or so later, and then after that you know what happened? History repeated itself. I just stopped hearing from him. Again. Because if I’ve learned one thing in this life it’s that if you do something you know you shouldn’t be doing, the universe or whatever the fuck will show you exactly why you shouldn’t have done that thing.
Which brings me to right now. Yes there have been more funny dating stories that I could share, and a few more that are less than hilarious, but since we are talking about letting in blasts from the past when you fucking know better, and since it’s fresh in my brain, we come to last night. After a few months of less than impressive dating stats, I wrote a big longwinded post on Facebook about the woes of dating, specifically online dating. I was doing my best to keep things as light and funny as possible, but I obviously came off almost as dark and depressed as I have been lately, because no more than 5 minutes after I hit post, I received a text message from the infamous Erik. If you don’t know who Erik is, then who even are you, and how did you find this tiny little blog in the most random corner of the internet? Now, hearing from Erik is nothing new. In fact, I’ve been hearing from him here and there a lot since Kevin and I split. We’ve only seen each other in person a few times, but every few weeks I get a text from him, just him saying hello, or telling me something he knows I’d find interesting or funny, like a couple months ago, when a former football player I used to enjoy was working on a production he was involved with. Our interactions have been very friendly, and while I am always painfully aware of our past whenever I see him or hear from him, overall I think we have made it to this place beyond the awkward where we can maybe actually be friends. With or without the benefits.
Last night he could tell I was down. And no matter what the motivation to message me was, he was the only person who reached out to ask if I was ok. He saw through the sarcasm of my post, and could tell that things maybe weren’t as lighthearted and humorous as I was trying to make it seem. He took what could have been an awful night for me, and made it into a really fun night by doing something not many people in my life can do for me right now – he was just there. All we did was text, but we chatted about everything from old Simpsons episodes to the thought of having kids one day to him telling me I should audition for a production sometime. We even cleared the air about what happened between us. He told me he still feels guilty that he couldn’t give me all the things I wanted with us, and I told him that it’s nothing to feel guilty about, that you can’t force yourself to love someone when you simply don’t. We talked for almost 4 straight hours, and it was probably the first time since we met over 10 years ago that we actually opened up to each other like that. Regardless of how I’m feeling today about it (slightly confused, and mad at myself that my heart still skips a tiny bit when I see his name appear on my phone) I’m so glad that it happened. I’m glad someone, even the most unlikely person was there for me when I just needed to talk to someone.
So judge away. I know I’m judging me. And I know I’ll never learn. But at least with me not learning, it gives me a reason once every 6 months at least to come back and work my shit out here. Thanks for sticking around a little while longer with me.