I can feel the threads that are holding my sanity together starting to unravel. There are no Date Wrecks in this post, well… Except for me.
I give up. White flag… Frantically flapping. I’m tired. It has been just over one year since I ended my three-year relationship with the sociopath, triple-lifer. I made a list tonight — I’m not sure if it was an exercise in cleansing or some sort of sadomasochistic episode… But either way, I made a list of all the men I have dated in the last year, and by dated, I mean gone on date with. Even the guys that it was just one date.
I know I’m forgetting some. It’s inevitable, what with the ratt-a-tat-tat style I’ve been dating. In twelve months, there have been twelve (plus) men. Of those twelve men, I have gone on repeated dates with six of them (like, dated them for a month or more).
They have ranged from an unemployed musician playing the system to a swinging single dad sowing his wild oats… From an eccentric with aspergers and a penchant for debating shit just for the hell of it, to a soldier/musician with serious head issues… From a wonderful but just not for me Buddhist to a cantankerous and wild chef with a lip ring… From a shy, friendly big guy to a shy and strange bearded chap… The whole gamete, folks.
It was important for me, after my last big break up, to widen my scope. I have spent my entire life dating and chasing after bad-boys. There’s something about just balls-out, brazen don’t-give-a-shit-ism that is appealing to me. Upon some reflection, I’m realizing that the reason I like being with assholes is because it makes my faults seem smaller in comparison. Sure, I might be a judgemental, overly-critical emotional mess, but at least I’m not like him. Dysfunction. I has it.
So, after that last big break up, I made it a point to go out with men that might not totally DO IT for me, but were otherwise nice and respectable guys. I’d do that for a while, it would end for one reason or another, and I’d say, “Fuck it!” and find some sort of bad boy treat to mend me. Lather. Rinse. Repeat.
The bottom line — I’m tired. And it’s time, yet again, for a new re-haul. This whole dating-outside-of-my-comfort zone thing isn’t working. I gave it a good solid try, but it just ain’t working.
The whatever-it-was with Krims fizzled out before it could even get started. He gave me some kind of shit about his ex-girlfriend reappearing or something. I don’t know how much truth there is to his story, but that isn’t the point here. The point is, I’m on auto-pilot. I know what I want and yet I keep just letting the dates drive me through rather than taking the wheel and saying, “Um, no. Thanks. I wanna go THIS way.”
I’m done searching. I’m done putting forth this valiant effort to find this man that I think I need. The whole thing with Krims bothered me on a personal level more than anything else. There I was, typically this self-assured, independent girl, sitting up last night wracking my brain trying to sort out what the heck I must’ve done to cause this back-pedaling to occur. I was mad at him and then really, fucking pissed me. What the hell am I doing letting some dude’s actions dictate how I feel about myself? That ain’t me.
Then, of course… More introspection. I’m not saying I’m hanging up my hat entirely, but I am disconnecting my heart from this all a little bit for a while. I am tired. I am so tired of going on dates and getting my hopes up only to be strung along and/or manipulated. I am tired of believing so heavily that something on paper will transfer to real life. I’m just tired.
I was talking to Mr. Nice Guy today — we have actually grown to be great friends in the last few months. He told me something today that resonated with me and has lingered on my fingertips all day.
He thinks I should quit writing Date Reports. His reasoning was that it could (and likely has) been a major freak-out for some men. Honestly, I could not care less about that shit because really, if you’re going to date a semi-professional blogger, you’re going to be talked about. End of story. Can’t stand the heat, well… You know the rest. But I got to thinking about what writing about Date Reports does for me and really, it doesn’t do anything good. So I had a good date? Does the world need to stop? Hell no. I end up shoving these unsuspecting dudes up on pedestals and then I’m disappointed when they don’t measure up to what I had hoped for. This isn’t good for me and spells disaster for the relationships. So, I’m going to stop writing Date Reports up for my own sanity.
Why does my focus rest so heavily on my dating life? I blame my traditional Christian upbringing. We were always taught, as girls, that the PRIZE was finding a good man. That ain’t the prize though, man… I am the prize.
And I need to start treating myself like the prize that I am. So, beginning today, I’m taking care of me. I’m going to exercise. I’m going to quit smoking. I’m going to find things to do with what little free time that I have that will make me feel complete and happy and whole. Maybe I’ll find someplace to volunteer. Who knows.Maybe I’ll take up knitting or something. By winter, I’ll have scarves for everyone!
I know I’ve taken “breaks” from dating before. My other single mom friends are always teasing me, “I thought you were on a dating break!” And my reply is usually, “I know, I know. But he was so _______.” Fuck that noise.
This isn’t a break. This isn’t me quitting. This isn’t me closing up shop. This is me taking back control of the direction of my life. This is me enjoying my day to day because of what I have going on right here, right now. Which is a lot. I have a lot to be grateful for.
So, yea… Thanks Krims. However things play out, this little lesson this week was a good one. And has, hopefully, changed my trajectory some. On to bigger and better things.
I am way more than the girl that goes on dates. WAY, way more.
