I am starting to fear that I will never be in a relationship again. Luckily, this isn't making me feel regretful about breaking up with the Blexican, but it is making me feel frustrated and annoyed and potentially wanting to be a little bit slutty. Unfortunately, I'm super ugly this month and don't think that sluttiness will be possible unless I lower my standards a great deal (and even then, I'm not so sure, lol). Boo. I'm working on it, though... maybe in May?
I'm happy, though. Shockingly. I think I've finally found the place I'm supposed to be and even though everything is far from settled, it feels like home. I am in love with the Bay Area. I find it beautiful and captivating and it makes me feel so alive. I have no desire to go back to New York City for any long stretch of time (although, I do miss my awesome friends, real bagels/pizza, warm summer nights, and fellow Yankees fans). I'm in it for the long haul, though!
Yet, I'm still mystified by this thing called love and the idea of a relationship. It's like the final piece of the puzzle that is my existence. I have pretty much achieved some modicum of happiness in every other aspect of my being. I'm trying to have faith in the Universe that I will someday discover this love thing that you humans speak of and it will change my life. Then I have days where I wonder if a man with all his teeth and common sense anyone will ever look at me with lust/love again and I feel discouraged. I have absolutely no desire to meet anyone online, so I know it's going to be rough and I'm probably going to hate myself as I wander through a lot of lonely evenings.
The whole relationship thing is just royally fucked for me - in all directions. I don't feel capable of loving OR being loved. Like with the Blexican, I honestly have to sit back and think he must've been out of his damn mind for being "in love" with me. Yeah, I give good head and will try anything once, but so do most hookers. I say inappropriate things (see previous sentence), have the strangest tastes, and I'm a sarcastic bitch. Add conventional standards of beauty into the mix and the fact that I live in the land of no dark people and I'm starting to think I'm going to die alone, clutching the only man I've ever really loved - Jack Daniels.
I guess what it really boils down to is that I'm tired of waiting. Seriously - I'm sick and tired of waiting for this man who's supposed to come and sweep me off my feet and make me feel like rainbows and unicorns and sunshine. Where the fuck are you? Because I am tired of waiting. I'm tired of getting older and watching the world get older and wondering when I'm going to get to feel those feelings that everyone else seems to have no trouble with. By the time you get here, I will be jaded and spiteful and (more) impossible to deal with, so why don't you just hurry the hell up and get here already so we can get married, buy a house, have babies, and die?
Note: Before anyone presents the argument that I should be a complete person and find love within myself so that I am ready for it when it comes - I have this to say. I am so much of a fucking complete person that it has driven many men away. Independent isn't my middle name - it's my only name. I am as much of a complete person as you can be. I do all those things they say you're supposed to do - I go to the movies alone, I live alone, I've even gone to bars alone. I'm not looking for someone to complete me or support me. I'm just looking for someone who's willing to help carry the burden sometimes. I promise to do the same in return.