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chronicles of a serial dater

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Holidays are such shit. [Dec. 26th, 2003|01:23 pm]
chronicles of a serial dater
They really make you feel like ass. And when I say "you" I mean "you lonely poor bastard sitting around with your crap happy friends and family in passive aggressive hell remembering all the things you've done wrong." Yeah, sucks to be you, eh?
Well, enough about you. No one came here to hear about that, this is all about ME. Thanks.
I see this in movies a lot, and I think its true. Sad girls want to fuck. Sometimes they do other things, like talking about it, overeating themselves out of their clothes and their dignity, cutting their imaginary lover's face into their skin.. blah blah blah. But really, what they want to do is fuck. Its the easiest source of temporary affection available to a woman. [Crazy? you say... no, absolutely not... what? ... well fuck you too!!]
Sad sex isn't the worst possible sex that can be had. Pity sex is much worse. Sad sex is pretty bad though. It would be alright if it never ended. Because thats the worst part, when you get up. Maybe use a strange bathroom with scary blue lighting. Go home. Stay there. Maybe its someone you know, maybe its a complete stranger.
Either way, its really fucking crappy having to get up when its over. I think it might make the sadness worse. Once you're not paying attention to your body anymore the suffocating mass of crap stuck in your skull just looms larger. Sex makes it grow, particularly sad sex.
If your head is so screwed up that you think having sex with someone is going to shut your brain up and make you a normal person at least for the duration... then you might not want to have sex at all. And get your damn head straight.
Easier said than done, I'd say. Sometimes its just easier to believe that someone could love you if you just spend enough time on your back. Sometimes you need to let yourself believe for even a teeny bit that someone likes being there with you.
But ultimately you know its not true. You know its not "healthy." You know you're supposed to be a self-respecting, selective, intelligent [god help you] person. You know sex better wait.
So wash that sad fuck off of yourself and put some make up on. Its time you take a step forward. You're past the days of gothic sex in your parents basement. Its time for can't see his face under the baseball cap and would rather not anyway, maybe your drink was spiked, god, why does the couch smell like that, drunk sex.
Growing pains, eh?
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Hiatus. [Dec. 10th, 2003|10:30 pm]
chronicles of a serial dater

I don't know if I'll be updating this very often. I'm not really in the mood for dating. The thing is, and I say this in the most non-gender-biased way possible, men are disgusting to me right now. They just make me sick, with their filthy eyes, heavy limbs, smelly patches of wiry hair, those evil gaping holes in the middle of their faces spouting endless streams of lies. I'm sure it will pass. But for the time being I have to say I've been shunning male attention. It seems almost silly after everything to want to be with someone that doesn't really care if they are going to have sex. But from my perspective that allows for a less tainted, deceitful, way to interact with someone. I don't want to talk to strangers. Strangers don't know anything about me. What could they possible like? They wouldn't even know. Strangers can't look at you the same way someone that loves you sees you. They can't talk to you that way. And you can't really talk to them. And somewhere along the line some people stop being strangers, and become close to you, and some even become family. How all this happens, I don't know. I'm not even sure how my close friends got to be so close. But strangers are dirty, and smelly, and jaded. They might not be inherently evil people, but they don't owe me anything, there's nothing stopping them from being selfish pricks. So I don't really want to talk to them. I'm sure it will pass.
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Welcome to stalker country. [Dec. 4th, 2003|06:37 pm]
chronicles of a serial dater
Its been a couple of weeks now. And overall, I'm doing fine. I'm not so sad now, I'm not sad at all actually. But I miss him so much. And I'm just stuck in my ex box. Can't say anything, can't do anything. Everything I could do from my box would only seem pathetic and desperate. Not good words.
And I'm thinking, maybe if I could just run into him somewhere. Maybe we could talk, maybe I could behave, maybe I could say something really good to change his mind. If it was accidental, or seemingly so, it wouldn't be so ugly and pitiful.
I could go for a stroll. A stroll around his neighborhood. I could get a cup of coffee. At his coffee shop. Maybe I could stop by where he works. Maybe take my friends to the bar.
But what the hell can I say to him? What could I do? Even if I did talk him into some sort of reconciliation, where would that leave me? It would leave me the one that kisses, and doesn't get kissed. [someone said that in a relationship, there's always the one that kisses, and the one that gets kissed] It wouldn't be equal footing at all. There would always be guilt, and history, and probably a good amount of bitterness.
I can't stop thinking about him.
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I'm not sure if this counts. [Dec. 3rd, 2003|12:39 am]
chronicles of a serial dater
So these are supposed to be dating chronicles. And I'm not really sure if this fits in here, but I'll stick it in anyway because its funny.
About six months ago there was a Person M. Person M is a woman. She had a big crush on me. And she was really awkwardly aggressive about it. But evidently, I made her nervous, because she'd get shy and stammer and look away. Yet despite her insecurities and fears, she maintained a steady campaign of pursuit. She followed and encouraged group drinking. It was all pretty creepy. I'd say on a uni-gender scale she was up there with the club fellas. Really forward and persistent.
I haven't seen much of her since last spring, and thats absolutely fine with me. Except that last Thursday I was flying home for thanksgiving, and who should be sitting two rows ahead of me? Person M.
I ducked and made myself a little note:
" Leaving behind drab weather, almost inhuman inconveniences- homeward bound. Oh the horror, the unbridled horror. Its the lesbian, the knee rubbing, stalking, staring in my mouth, expectant lesbian. Only to remain unnoticed until within the safety of mother's clutches. Lesbians cant get you from mother. "
Then my plane landed. And I went home. Unnoticed.
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Rebound this, asshole. [Dec. 2nd, 2003|11:56 pm]
chronicles of a serial dater
I know I said rebounds can be helpful. Even important. But this is a fucking joke.
So I met someone recently. I was rather intoxicated at the time, I don't remember much of the conversation, but from what I do recall, it seemed alright. I didn't do anything hideous that night which qualifies him as an acceptable candidate. (That means that I don't like the fellas that put up with my naughty side, they're either masochists, or assholes, either way: no go.)
So we talk on the phone a bit. Never very good timing, so I didn't really know who the hell I was talking to, Until Tonight! Jeeez!!! This fucking kid. Tells me he doesn't want to break up anymore. He just wants open (!!!), loving, relationships.
What the hell is open? The way I see open is you sleep with other people. Giving each other gonorrhea is not a loving relationship! Ok, fine, he's a fucking hippie. But it gets worse. He thinks every person is a religion. Super. And your body is a temple. Fantastic. Doesn't drink coffee. Great. Doesn't drink alcohol much either. Ya, we're a match. Went to music school. Always a good sign. Has some unidentifiable corporate job, but continues to be in a band. In a band!!
See, here's my whole thing. Its kind of shallow and lame, but its a fucking rebound!!! Its supposed to be. If it wasn't I'd call it something else. All these things are good for, as far as I'm concerned, is a few fun outings. I want to wear my pretty new coat and go to a neat place I've never been before with someone pretty and quiet, and not pay. Thats fucking it!And it doesn't take Prince Charming. Pretty, quiet, car, money. And really, I'm not so particular about personalities and insides and whatever the fuck, because I don't want to know these people. I don't want them to know me. I just need them to distract me for a bit, and let me fucking masturbate without getting sad.
But this fucking guy!!! I can't even deal with his hippieness enough for this simple task. He's that fucking .. hippie.
This whole being an unmotivated piece of crap is alright. I'm used to it. But the open-barefoot-armpit hair-vegetarian-new age bullshit about relationships, this I cannot do.
Sure, fidelity isn't my strong suit. But that doesn't mean I don't strive for it. I'm not just going to give up and be a free loving woodstock whore. Oh no! I am going to try, and fail, and feel like a bad person. As every good samaritan should.
Maybe I'm just being uptight. Maybe the word "spiritual" makes me cringe. Maybe I don't relate well to non-smokers. Maybe I'm being too serious about this whole thing, after all, a rebound could very well be someone you could never see yourself with.
But then, in the throes of self-doubt, I remember,
Fucking smelly hippie.
He thinks that attachment is what causes conflict in relationships. Attachment as in versus devotion. Devotion is good. Attachment is bad. Am I missing something, or does that not make very much sense? This lack of "attachment" leading to "openness" really doesn't float my boat. I want attachment. I don't really want openness at all. Openness sounds a lot like being single to me. And if I'm going to be single I don't want some fig eating flower child being devoted to me.
This conversation just kept getting progressively worse. Every new thing he said was hippier than the last. I finally excused myself to nurse my friend sleeping on my floor, refusing water and coffee for his lack of sobriety.
No musicians! Damnit. And maybe I'm getting too set in my ways, but these kind of unconventional romantic ideals just don't fascinate me as much as they did six years ago. Now they just sound like codified excuses for cheating.
Ah well, maybe I'll just skip the rebound this time.
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Something's changed. [Nov. 24th, 2003|03:53 am]
chronicles of a serial dater
I think I changed somehow. I don't know when. I don't think it could have been very long ago. And I'm not even sure if its permanent or a passing hormonal tantrum. I don't really know what to call it.
Whats different is that I could never sleep with people. In the same bed. It used to drive me crazy, so I would just give up and not sleep at all, and usually leave and walk around, or kick them out. I like it now. I haven't gotten used to it. Its not out of habit. I just like it.
And I'm somehow less aggressively opposed to anything that stinks of domesticization. I don't really mind anymore. I kind of like grocery shopping or getting batteries. And I haven't allowed this leap into the unknown yet, but who knows, I might even like renting movies.
So it makes me wonder, what all this means. (if I didn't wonder about things like this, would I really have one of these?) Am I maturing? Or aging? I would prefer the former, but am afraid of the latter. Or is it some over-analyzed, nesting instinct, social comparison for gauge of worth, oprah-esque crisis of loneliness? That sounds hideous. Thus it is not true. Maybe I just miss that one fellow. But what if I miss him because of this. Because of this budding need to be barefoot and pregnant watching a goddamn rented movie while I cook dinner. Maybe my "emotional maturity" (its so good it got quotes) is starting to catch up to my age. Maybe I will finally understand what high school sweethearts knew all along. I'm a late bloomer.
I distinctly feel that something is different. Could it be that this is what has been brewing under the lid all this time? While I was turning a cold shoulder to my quiet, gentle heart, could it have been storing it up? Storing it, only to unleash at the dawn of my emotional awakening so unabashedly? Ah, quiet gentle heart, you are tricky.
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Evil internet memory. [Nov. 21st, 2003|09:10 pm]
chronicles of a serial dater
Everytime I go to type something into a search engine, all of my google spying returns to haunt me.
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Is it rock bottom yet? [Nov. 21st, 2003|12:39 am]
chronicles of a serial dater
This feels like shit. I can't shake it. I just keep thinking, this will stop eventually. It always does. But for the time being, I'm just miserable.
So thats about all I can say about that without repeating myself. Onto other things: I wrote something about this having happened to me before, the instant thing. And I think I mentioned that they have the same name. But thats not all.
Same age. Same delusional ideas about a career, which I guess makes for same occupation, or as I see it, lack there of. They even have the same number of letters in their last name. Spooky.
The first one was a little different, only in that it dragged on for a couple of years. Well technically "it" didn't, it was over just as quickly, it just took us a year and a half to finish the whole deal and, I moved. I don't even want to know what would be happening now had I not moved. It would certainly be some continuation of the masochistic nightmare that it was. The first one has moved on. Ha! This "moving on" business makes me angrier than the actual relationship, and breaking up and all of that. He "moved on" to a girl that looks exactly like me, is the same age I was when I met him, is from the same country (except she doesn't speak English, at all), and has the same initials! Which wouldn't be weird, except that I have rare initials, just not a combination you hear often. So they're probably green card married by now. Which is fine. I hope she gave him third world country diseases. Second world, actually.
The second one told me that he'd be leaving to go home for thanksgiving tomorrow morning. I wonder if thats a lie. Probably. And whats really stopping me from making any kind of attempt at .. anything, really, is the first one. I already know exactly what could happen. And it just isn't worth it. You can guilt people into things, but you can never make them love you. Or like you, for fuck's sake.
I don't have anything new to say. The feeling like shit part comes and goes, sometimes I get distracted, but for the most part I just feel like shit. I don't want to see anyone, or talk to anyone. I hate TV. I don't feel like doing anything. I think I would be ok just staying in bed for a couple of weeks. I'm really glad Thanksgiving is coming up. I could stay in bed for a few days at least. Its always so conspicuous around the holidays though. I kind of hate everyone right now. Just because they get in the way of my being alone. There's shower and sleep. Everything else sucks. I don't sleep very much. And I don't like showering more than twice a day.
This does end. It will be better. It can't last forever. It will end. It will be better. I just wish I knew when, so I could plan around it. This fucking blows.
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More on friends. [Nov. 19th, 2003|01:09 am]
chronicles of a serial dater
It might be already evident that my friends are very important to me. And this is a continuation of that thought.
My friends are my friends for a reason. I respect them. I trust them. And I listen to what they have to say. This is beside the fact of friend love.
And they do affect my dating life. When I consider being with someone I want to know what they think. I don't always (ever) listen. But I want to know. Sometimes an outside opinion is more accurate than infatuation. Sometimes (always) they see things I don't want to. Sometimes they let me talk them into letting me do things that I shouldn't. Sometimes I get my heart broken and they don't say I told you so.
I'm lucky with them.
Why am I thinking about this now? I mentioned Person A. And someone brought up the fact that despite my claim to not be interested, I wrote three paragraphs about it. While Person P got only one, a forced one at that. The person that brought this up knows me, and witnessed both episodes. Not to mentioned our own episode. And there's something to it. My "indifference" sure does take a long time to explain, doesn't it?
What happened was that Person A and I had a rocky beginning. Then we had another beginning. And I don't know what I was thinking, and it was before I wrote anything here, or anywhere, so I can't cross reference. But I do remember that after the second beginning things ended abruptly. And I was in pretty bad shape for a pretty long time.
My friends know that. They saw it. I didn't say much about it, but they saw it. It was hard to hide. And they don't want to see me feel like that. And they told me things about this person and other people. Don't you go getting your heart broken again, don't you remember what happened? Don't you trust him. Don't you believe him, he's just like what happened before. And I think that they see what happened with Person A as the most sincere pain I've felt while they've known me. I think that has become the bar to hold all other break ups to.
That was a year ago. And Person A is coming around again. And he's coming on strong. And I remember how I felt a year ago, both the good and the bad. And naturally I'm petrified. I don't want to put myself in that situation again. I don't want to believe him again, to be disappointed again. Makes sense so far, right?
Here's where my friends come in. During this year or so since it happened all I've heard was warnings. And like I said before, they say bad things about people to help me not care about them. And they have said a lot, a lot, of bad things about this person.
Now all of a sudden, I'd like to see you together. Where is that coming from? Why now? Why not the first time? Why was he such a piece of crap then, and is so great now?
The difference in their eyes lies in intent. See, Person R, is a liar, and a moron. This isn't something I'm comfortable with yet, but I'm afraid that I will eventually have to admit it. Person S (I hope to god I never write about him again) is the devil. And he really is. So if you're bad and you go to hell, you'll be with Person S. Seriously! That bad.
But Person A, he's not malicious, he just made a mistake. He's got a good heart. He's sincere this time.
I think that might be harder for me to believe than Person R being a jerk.
I think that particularly with romantic situations, only the two people involved really know what goes on. No matter how you tell it, no one will feel what you felt. And no one sees what you see. So I can't take what anyone else says without a grain of salt, be it good or bad. But when people that know me, and care about me, good, smart people, that I care about, whose opinions I value, start saying things, in unison, it makes me think twice. Maybe they're seeing what I'm not. And on the other hand, they didn't stay in bed for weeks, they didn't go into a bloody rage for months, they didn't have to melt a glacier to forgive.
Its just a big surprise for me to hear the most cynical person I've ever met go and change her mind. But like I said, only six months left. And I'm in no rush with this one. He can wait.
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If this is about dating, lets talk about dating. [Nov. 18th, 2003|10:33 pm]
chronicles of a serial dater
If you recall Person P from a previous entry, I mentioned that he was re-smitten. So he wants to have a drink tomorrow. And I remember why I never liked him much. He talks a lot. About himself. On and on and on. He put a napkin in his shirt once at dinner. Like a bib. It wasn't lobster, and even if it was, its still something you shouldn't do. I did like some things, I think they might not be important things, but I liked them anyway. He has a really pretty body. And he dresses well, which also means he doesn't think its annoying that I care about these things. He doesn't intimidate me at all. He's funny and down to earth, and that phrase never means anything, so what I'm saying is, he says funny sincere things about himself, about his life, and about his thoughts. And I don't think thats enough. And I don't think I can even stand it for long.
But I think I'll go anyway. Pass the time. Distract myself. Listen to him tell me about his banjo(!) lessons. He's a good guy. There won't be love or anything like that, but why not have a drink? (Oh, I know why. Because I drink way too much and make all kinds of drunk decisions. Because everything seems like a much better idea when I drink. But all that might have to go in another journal, maybe later, when I admit it.)
Another thing: when I started seeing Person R, I was still with Person C. It wasn't serious or long, it just overlapped a little. And incidentally, I gave Person C the same exact speech Person R gave me. (Karma? No!) He didn't take it well at all. It wasn't exactly like the reaction I had, his was a little more fatal attraction. More "I'm going to wait for you in the bushes in front of your house," less "your life's ambition is a joke, and I hate your body." So Person C is a little awkward now, and we haven't said much to each other since. But yesterday he returned a book I lent him. And inside was a pamphlet for Christian Friends:
"At one time or another, most of us have asked ourselves about the meaning of life. Who am I? How did I get here? Is there a God? What will happen to me after I die?"
I didn't read the rest of it, because I think its creepy, but on the back there's a little form you mail in, and you can check a box if you want someone to pray for you.
What is that????? Is it a bookmark? Is it a helping hand? This isn't a religious person. This is a person that knows I am not religious either.
Funny kid. Maybe I should send Person R one of those. Maybe then he will want me back, because Jesus tells him so.
The book was Notes from the Underground.
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