Halved to become a whole.

If you've read some of my older posts, you probably picked up on the fact that I had previously been in a long-term, serious relationship, and that relationship was something I believed to be incredibly wonderful and positive.  He was (still is) a really great guy: nice, considerate, handsome, helpful, smart, funny--

Alright, that's enough.  I'm not here to verbally fellate my ex; you get the idea.

When we were together, it was like this, almost all the time:

Honest.  Our friends were always complaining about how cute we were together.  We had plans to retire into a retirement community and participate in water aerobics.  We named our future dog.  A sizable list of vacation destinations.  Knew where we were going to look for our first house.  Even at the end of three years, we were still holding hands, giving back rubs, and kissing hello and goodbye.  I loved him more than anything.

Not to say we didn't have our issues.  He had his, I had mine, and we both wore blinders.  I had no idea how unhappy our relationship was making me, and if he was unhappy, he never expressed it.  So we got engaged, and shit got real.  I started really thinking on what it would be like to be together forever, tried and failed to address some things, and we broke up.

For the greater part of six months, I was DEVASTATED.  Yes, even though I ultimately made the decision, I regretted it so intensely that I hated myself for making it.  I thought about him every day and was miserable being alone after being coupled for so long.  It was a legitimate, DSM-IV-TR defined depressive episode, including change in weight, change in appetite, change in sleep patterns, depressed mood, and loss of pleasure in activities that were previously enjoyable.

I thought I had thrown away the most amazing and most important relationship I would ever have, and magically, I couldn't even seem to remember why.  I could conjure up memories of small issues, but they seemed so ridiculous and insignificant that I couldn't believe I'd let them affect us at all.  How could I have gotten upset over that when he was just THE MOST PERFECT MAN ON THIS EARTH WHAT THE HELL WAS I THINKING WHAT HAVE I DONE?!?!?!?!?!?!

I didn't even notice when I started writing again.  Or started making plans with friends again.  Or started enjoying driving alone in the car, singing at the top of my lungs.  I didn't drink as much.  I did things on my own.  I started trying new things that I had previously written off.  I bought clothing that I thought was cute, regardless of whether someone else might like them or not.  My self-confidence came back.  I flirted with whomever I wanted to flirt.  I started going on dates.  I did what I wanted, when I wanted, how I wanted, and there was no anxiety or loneliness or need to check in or desire to be with someone.

Suddenly, being single felt more like this:

I didn't have to worry about anyone but myself.  I did whatever made me happy, and it was okay to be 100% selfish all the time.  No sharing the TV, no arguing over what to have for dinner, no obligations for someone else, no stress.  Life on easy street!

Over time, without me even noticing, everything had transformed.  Being single went from an extreme loss to an incredibly profound sense of freedom.  We all know that relationships are a lot of work, but when you spend three years doing all of the work by yourself to try and keep things going, ending it really untangles you from some unbelievably heavy chains, and find yourself feeling lighter than a feather.

Dr. Viktor Frankel, one of the most amazing men to ever grace this earth, said that despair can be defined as an equation: D = s - m.  Despair is suffering without meaning.  Sort of like suffering through a relationship that, despite your partner being a great person, should've ended a long time ago.  After a while, there is no meaning to it, nothing to learn, and nothing productive to be gained from keeping it going.

I still love my ex, very much, but I very much regret ignoring our problems for so long and continuing on just because my logic told me he was a great guy and no one would treat me better.  Unfortunately, I needed things from him that he wasn't willing -- or perhaps, even capable -- of giving.  It put me in a very dark place, but even that, I am grateful for, because now I can recognize it for what it is and get out of a situation before I ever get there again.  I wasn't myself, and I didn't even know it.

But now, I've accepted who I am, and have realized that if anyone else doesn't, fuck 'em!  If we don't connect, we don't connect -- it's no one's fault, it just happens.  And if we DO connect, well, that's a story for another day... (dun dun DUNNNN, foreshadowing)

Bitches be CRAYZAY!

Recently, I started spending time with a man I’ve been interested in for a while.  We met at work, but he was indirectly my supervisor, and our company has a pretty strict fraternization policy.  However, over the last few months, we became very friendly, spending a little too much time talking together, getting coffees and lunches, hanging out in his office, and so on.  It was exceedingly obvious that he had mutual feelings for me, so when he secretly informed me that he was interviewing with another company, I was thrilled.  As soon as he had secured the position and put in his notice, I pounced, and things were looking good.

And then we slept together.  I had a sneaking suspicion that he was going to get a little distant once we had crossed this milestone, and to my great unsurprise, he did.  A few days later, I received a text message from him, informing me that he didn't want "anything serious" and just wanted to "make sure we're on the same page."

Phew!  Good thing he told me early so I could return those matching wedding bands!

It’s not the fact that he doesn’t want a relationship that bothers me.  It’s not even the delivery (a text, I mean, really?!).  What really irks me about the situation is that he assumed, as most men seem to, that I was going to get clingy because we slept together.  Frankly, I’m insulted.

I do, of course, realize that many women tend to get more intense feelings after reaching that level of intimacy with a partner; it’s an evolutionary trait (honest, it really is; look it up).  However, men seem to assume that ALL women ALL the time are going to turn into crazy, needy banshee creatures that will swoop in and ruin their lives.

This guy isn’t the only one.  In fact, the last two pseudo-relationships I’ve started have gone the same way – we go out a few times, everything is light and fun, and then, when I finally give in to their advances, it suddenly gets weird.  Is it just too soon?  How long are you supposed to wait?  Why does it even matter?!  AREN’T WE ALL ADULTS HERE?!?!

Here’s the thing about me: I like sex.  Wait, no, sorry – actually, I love sex.  When I'm comfortable with and attracted to another person, it's something I could do three times a day, every day, and not get bored.  Even if it's pretty much the same moves every single time, I still want to do it.  Beyond the physical awesomeness, I really enjoy that insanely intimate connection, especially if he's into kissing and looking into each others' eyes and being all passionate and shit.  Or hair pulling and rough stuff.  Or gentle, sweet, tender stuff.  It doesn't matter!  I love that the things I do makes the other person feel pleasure, and I just love... well, sex!

On that note, I can -- and have -- had wonderful, sexy, exciting one night stands.  I don't make it a habit, but every once in a while, the opportunity comes up, and why say no?  I generally don't intend for it to be just one night; it just works out that way.  And that's cool.  I'm not going to be blowing up anyone's phone or driving by his place; if he wants it again, he knows how to get a hold of me.  If he doesn't, it's his loss.

Besides, I'm all like...

I'm not looking to get married.

I'm not clingy.

I'm not jealous.

I'm not high maintenance.

Men overthink things.  A lot more than they like to admit.  Just relax and enjoy how awesome I am.  Holy hell.

The speed of light society.

There's no doubt that the one recurring theme in today's America is obesity speed. Everything has to be fast: fast cars, fast service, fast sex food. People are always in a rush, even when they have nowhere to be (I've admittely been guilty of such). We exceed the speed limit, tailgate, get angry when our waitress forgot something small and has to run back to the kitchen to get it, complain loudly when our meal takes more than ten minutes, and make those annoyed sighing sounds when someone takes too long to pay for their groceries and holds up the line all of four seconds. Look, lady, I don't care if you're seventy and have a broken leg but still have to take care of your ailing husband and your granddaughter's year old love child -- I GOT SHIT TO DO!

Okay, so I might be exaggerating. A little. Maybe.... or maybe not at all. Either way, food and driving and such are not the only things that are moving too fast for my tastes. There are also the big Rs.

RELATIONSHIPS.

Remember back in the sixties? Women used to wear those stupid poodle skirts and short-sleeved sweaters (who ever invented those ridiculous things?), and guys used to slick back their hair and dress nice:


(This picture is not actually from the sixties, and I didn't get him to sign a release, so let's hope he doesn't deny the verbal agreement and sue me. Handsome, though, ain't he? :-D )

Back then, people used to do this thing called dating. I know that may sound kind of foreign to some of you, but listen here: it exists! No, no, it's not the same as "going out" -- going out suggests an exclusive relationship. See, dating is just what it sounds like - going on dates! You go on dates, get to know each other, and then decide if you want to begin an actual relationship.

Yes, yes, I realize that sounds old fashioned and boring. But let me tell you -- it's a lot easier to stop seeing someone you're not interested in if you're just dating, as opposed to having to go through the break-up process. Easier and less emotionally messy.

All I'm saying is slow the hell down, people. There's absolutely no reason to leap headfirst into a relationship with someone you hardly know just because you "kinda had fun together that one time." I'm just saying it's a little quick to go out once, then talk about moving in together and all the children you'll have and where you'll live and what the wedding will be like.

Puke sequence activated: *gag*

What ever happened to taking the time to get to know someone? To enjoy their company for a while before putting all the pressure of a relationship on the two of you? I happen to find that taking things slow makes me like a person so much more than if we jump right into it (in all honesty, if things move that fast, I often lose interest). A little mystery adds an element of excitement to everything! Not knowing when you'll see each other next adds a bit of sweet longing for that next meeting!

Does anyone follow me? At all?

Eh, screw you guys. You're all dirty whores.