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chronicles of a serial dater

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So I says to myself: [Nov. 18th, 2003|09:58 pm]
chronicles of a serial dater
I'm "starting" to feel like an idiot for being so tragic. Really it wouldn't sound so awful to me if I didn't say the same exact thing every two months. And really, I considered putting an end to it. I did. I almost said it too. No more. Not for a while.
But then, what would I write about here? So you see, I do this for you. Not for me. Not because I am perpetually seeking something greater than myself to be a part of, to live for, so as the banal, capitalist existence doesn't seem so meaningless. Not because living for material advantage, academic pursuit, social welfare seems empty to me. Not because I want to be like my parents; not because I want to live on an island of two, like them. Not because I don't know what to do with everything inside of me. Not because I want to have sex with the same person for years at a time. Not because I want to find out what the middle is like. Not because my expertise of beginnings and ends makes me sick.
No, thats not why I keep doing this.
I do this because I want to feel things. Just like everyone else. Good things. And I don't think that makes me crazy. And I say that because people keep telling me that I am. I don't think there's anything crazy about it at all. And I don't think its crazy to get upset when it doesn't work. And its not crazy to yell and cry when you're upset. I don't think there's anything crazy about it at all.
I guess I want it too soon. Before its ready. I guess my eagerness blurs the details. I think the details make or break it. But thats not to say that I am not guilty of sabotage. Of being inconsiderate. Inconsistent. Immature. I've hurt people. I've hurt people for bad reasons. I've shunned good people. I made them go away. I didn't let them love me. And I don't regret it.
I think that all is fair in these things. And I guess you really can't be mad at someone for not wanting you. And wish them to be hit by a bus. Maybe it is timing. Or schedules. Or details. Maybe it isn't because you are inherently flawed. Maybe its just not the right person. And maybe someone is. But maybe no one is. And maybe I will settle. Maybe I won't. Not ever. And maybe I will be ok with that.
I think its hard to tell. You can only control your own half, if that. And the other half belongs to someone else. And god knows what their issues are, what their fears are, what their past had done to them.
I think it helps me to write these things down. Even though they don't really go anywhere or say anything new. I just like to think that I believe them sometimes, even if not all the time.
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Please don't tell anyone. [Nov. 17th, 2003|07:46 pm]
chronicles of a serial dater
I don't know if giving these things an audience cheapens them, even an anonymous, textual audience, but I'll write it down anyway. And if it looks horrible and ugly and naked, I'll take it away.
It all came flooding in last night. Months of not feeling anything at all, suppressing everything, negating everything. All came back at once. I was ok the whole day. Then when I tried going to sleep, I couldn't. It could have been the pitcher of coffee I drank that was keeping me awake and letting my mind race, or my mind racing that kept me awake. No matter what I tried to think about I couldn't stop it.
And I cried. Not romantic tears rolling down someone's beautiful face in a movie crying. Snotty, convulsive, sobbing, red face crying. I haven't cried over a break up in six years. I counted today.
See what I didn't say the first time about Person R was the fact that he touched my head. I lay on his chest and he held my head. He made me talk about things I hate talking about. He said he would protect me. And I really, really wanted to believe him. I really needed him to mean it.
He isn't just pretty. He is pretty to me. And everytime I think about saying these things, or writing these things, I just want to stop and abandon the whole thing. I hate how it sounds. It sounds so fake. It sounds like something a 15 year old girl would make up because she saw it in a movie.
He is beautiful to me. Not really aesthetically, but maybe. I felt some instinctual connection. It could have just been my body telling me to mate because we would have evolutionarily successful children. Its only happened twice. The first time was a lot like this. They even have the same name, occupation, and age. But I think thats all they have in common.
Have you ever seen that commercial when a man and a woman get into an elevator together and their future flashes before them? I saw that. And I really liked it. Not weddings and babies or anything, but I really liked the idea of me with him. It made sense to me. These things never make sense to me. I always feel like an ill-matched blind date. I thought we made sense. He didn't.
And I really did look at the stains on my sheets and cried. And it didn't make me laugh this time.
I hate that I can't do anything about this. I can't say anything. I can't do anything. I keep thinking if maybe I could just explain it better I could fix everything. But he's made up his mind. And there's nothing more stubborn than someone that's made up their mind that they don't want to be with you. I heard that somewhere.
I also hate that I did everything wrong. I don't even know who I was trying to be during this whole thing. Sure I polish up a bit for new ones, and I act a little better than I can be. But this time. Jesus. I was drinking so much. I did so many clumsy things. I didn't say so much. I acted cold when I felt the most. I acted sensitive when I felt nothing. I never said anything about how much it meant to me for him to hold my head.
Worse still, what if I was who I am, and he just doesn't want that? And I just keep thinking that he's made a mistake. And I just have to explain it better.
That night when he held my head and made me talk about things I hate to talk about, we went outside. I saw a shooting star and I made a wish. I wished to feel something.
And this is why I sometimes think I am an experiment and none of this is real.
I hate that I said all those horrible things to him the last time we spoke. I was so angry and hurt and shocked. I made him angry too. I was cruel just to be cruel. And he will remember that when he remembers me. And I hate that so much.
I couldn't really make jokes today. I just kept thinking about all this. Was I really falling into something already? Maybe its best that I wasn't allowed to. Maybe I made too many mistakes this time. Maybe he isn't what I think he is at all.
I thought about all the possible reasons for his leaving. Some of them I can't think about anymore because they are too ugly. The ones like he didn't know who I really was, make me feel better. But for the most part, I feel like shit.
I can't force my brain to stop hoping. Hoping that if I just say it right. If he just thinks about it for a little longer.
And I can't feel any better until I don't hope anymore. A part of me already knows that there isn't anything to hope for. But not all of me.
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Nothing good ever came out of the woodwork. [Nov. 16th, 2003|11:50 pm]
chronicles of a serial dater
As if they can smell my availability, the exes are swarming. If you don't already know this, its time you learned: NEVER GO BACK, ever. It has never worked. It is always a bad idea. It will always end worse than it did the first time. Maybe these people are hoping I don't know that. Their not knowing such things about me had more than a little to do with the initial parting.
One in particular, that ended on terrible terms with me, has been aggressively pursuing, which is rather out of character, for (there will never be names) Person A. Person A is an idiot. Person A broke up with me to return to an ex. Obviously this didn't work. And now Person A wants to go back to another ex, this time me. Person A is an idiot. Person A says cryptic things to me. Person A does not want to be in a relationship. Person A misses me very much. Person A thinks I am different from anyone Person A has known before. Person A is right, but nonetheless, an idiot. Person A is trying to coerce me into an unwelcome commitment on the premise of caprice. This won't be serious, maybe we could spend a little time together, we just really get along, I love talking to you, just talking. Evil. I already know that Person A is full of shit. Person A is saying these things due to an uncharacteristic knowledge of (anything, actually) my mistrust and unwillingness. This of course entices Person A. Person A wants what Person A can't have. People like that are no good. What can ever come of such things? They want you, you want them, they don't want you anymore, and all over again. No. End the cycle.
Person A is more transparent that your typical perpetrator, which makes Person A an easy example. Person A has no idea what Person A wants. Person A never has. Person A is very confused. I have absolutely no interest in helping Person A, or anyone, figure anything out. Honestly, I have no interest in anything about Person A. But people like this exist. And they do everything in their limited powers as used goods to trip you up on your journey to recovery. See, they think you want a rebound, and during this vulnerable, arousable, time in your life they hope to sink their claws into you and make you theirs. Fight the good fight my friend. Don't let this happen. Ward off their advances. You won't find anything good in their arms. And remind yourself that you already know that.
Person P is someone I dated briefly and painlessly. Its hard to say who left who. About when things were fizzling out I started dating someone else and forgot all about Person P, and evidently Person P forgot all about me. But, alas, not for long. I ran into Person P on one of my comfort drinking binges. Person P, like all others, cannot resist being in my presence. Person P would like to see me again. Person P has a better shot than Person A, but nonetheless, Person P is shooting blindfolded from a barn at a target a thousand miles away. Best of luck.
See the difference between Person A and Person P is the prior emotional attachment. Person A was a passionate, head first, bitter disappointment. Person A has lost all credibility. There is nothing to go back to with Person A other than a sequel to a not so good original. Person P on the other hand, was entirely casual, and has potential to be entirely casual again. Now, there was a reason for Person P being casual, I was never overly interested. Nor am I know. But if you refer to a previous entry, distractions are important. And at times like this, you never want to jump into anything that might be at all emotional. Because you can't trust your emotions right now. You have no idea how you are feeling. And you won't for some time. So all you're going to do is project the one you miss onto the one you have. Bad, bad, bad. But should you need a companion for a movie, or other such innocent activities, why not see someone you don't give a flying damn about. Sounds mean? It isn't. Just think about all the people that have done that with you. Thats what casual dating is. People using people to not be bored and not think about what went wrong with the ones they wanted. There's no harm in that.
Just make sure you don't mislead anyone. Because they may kill you. Be honest. Be severe. Be clear. As long as they know that you don't want to get involved with them, and all you want is to see a goddamn movie, everything will be fine. Thats why Person Ps are good. And Person As are bad.
When you suddenly become single people that want to know, find out. And they start spinning their evil webs. Thus, it is your responsibility to tread lightly and watch where you're going. Otherwise there will be no end to this madness.
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Don't forget to distract yourself. [Nov. 16th, 2003|11:10 pm]
chronicles of a serial dater
Distractions are very important. Especially in the beginning. You never want to leave yourself too much time to muse over why you were dumped, what inadequacies of yours led your lover astray, what psychological insight they might have had, despite your well practiced guise. These things are best left unknown. Maybe later on, when you are happily sweaty with another, you can look back on this and pluck out the pearl of wisdom that will make you a better human being, and a better partner. But absolutely not now. Forget all about it. If they left you because you are completely screwed up, then so be it. And so be it for a while.
Lord help the next one.
Meanwhile, since you are finding yourself with some extra time on your hands, previously occupied by the deserting party, you might want to pick up some extracurricular activities.
$65.98 at Barnes & Noble.
The Alchemist $13.00
Perks of Being a Wallflower $13.00
Identity: A Novel $13.00
Hey Nostradamus! $21.95
Plus tax. These are all short, and will take up about a day each. I doubt I will be purchasing more books, $65.98 for Christ's sake!(I dont know if you noticed, but all of the above follow a theme, right of passage, soul searching, and I just happen to really like Douglas Coupland and read whatever he writes) so I will next venture to explore the library for books about adolescents and sociopaths. I heard Fountainhead was good.
Another important note as far as distractions go, be very selective about the music you are listening to during this tender time. Do not listen to anything, absolutely anything, that has anything to do with love, loss, relationships, or has the word "baby" in it (the last one is a general rule of thumb you should follow anyway). I realize this rules out a huge chunk of your listening pleasure. So if I may suggest some appropriate distraction music: The Ramones usually won't let you down, unless you explore some sneaky B-sides (so don't), Junior Senior is a pretty safe bet, you don't really listen to the words anyway, Freddy Fresh is completely safe, if you are a woman you might try L7 and Le Tigre, but beware this may make you angry and aggressive, eat sedatives during listening sessions, Ursula 1000 rarely hints at romantic themes and when it does its relatively easy not to notice, Wheatus's version of love is by no means daunting to a broken heart (or ego), The Flinstones soundtrack is uplifting and cheerful, The Bloodhound Gang, if you don't know, you might not want to try this, Lionrock and Bentley Rhythm Ace have very little lyrics and a quick beat that prevents your mind from wandering, and really, thats about it. You can't listen to anything else. Because music, especially radio music, serves to trigger memories and emotions that make you want to purchase things, and feel lonely and overweight, and all together become incapable of overcoming trivial partings. Trust me. Do as I say.
Also, if you can, stay away from TV. Especially commercials. We all know they are the root of all evil. Enough said.
But the internet is a good distraction tool. As you know, otherwise you wouldn't be reading this. Do this, write things, write hateful things about the one that wronged you, post pictures of them in compromising positions, shame their families. Its fun. It helps.
I also think that it is very important to get out of your house. What the hell do you think you're going to do there? Stare at the stains on your sheets and cry? Don't do that. Go out somewhere. Buy things that you don't need (I purchased a mug, and I can't even tell you how happy it makes me, really!) But when you are outside in the world, don't look at couples and get sad. Throw things at them. Taunt them. Because you are superior and no mortal is worthy of your love. And if you run into people that you know, but don't like, don't tell them what happened to you. They will only make it worse with their horrible "I'm so sorry that you suck, and I'm better than you" face, not to mention devious advice and hardly hidden glee at your disadvantageous situation. Come to think of it, taunt them too. And throw things. When you are sad, take it out on others. Its all their fault. They hoarded all of the happiness originally allotted to you. Punish them.
If all else fails, drink yourself silly and hope that the part of your brain that hates you and makes you feel bad about yourself for not being able to keep anyone interested in you long enough to develop an efficient sex rhythm dies.
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Friends on being supportive cont. [Nov. 16th, 2003|08:29 pm]
chronicles of a serial dater
Best comforting thing a friend could do, ever. Get dumped the same day as you! Its amazingly soothing. You can gender bash together. You can talk about everything you've learned from your failed relationship. You can even say how much you've grown. And you friend won't argue with you, because they are just as busy disillusioning themselves as you are. And why not? Nobody's getting hurt by your perverted version of events. So what if you switch some things around in your story... who will ever know? And isn't it worth it to make yourself look better to those that actually stick by you?
Its one thing for your friends in happy couples to tell you to enjoy the single life (which has its own advantages, you forget about your pain while trying to imagine sticking forks into their eyes) but its a whole other animal when your fellow dumpies say it. Because you already know they don't mean it. You don't mean it either. But somewhere in the middle of your tirade of lies to try and make them feel better, because after all, their situation is far more pathetic than yours, you start believing your own nonsense. Either that or you forgot where you were going with it and accidentally started being sincere.
Doesn't somebody say that the best way to learn something is to teach it to someone else? This is kind of like that. You comfort and assuage, and it works on you too. A little bit at least.
And if all of the above happens to be complete bullshit, then at least you have the satisfaction of knowing that there are other poor saps like you, if not worse. Gives one a sense of camaraderie. A sort of community support system for people that no one will ever love. And just because you are doomed to spend the rest of your life alone doesn't mean that you can't find humor and companionship from your friends that have just been through the same thing. Soak it up, too. Because you are well aware that these people are infinitely more loving, compassionate, and deserving of love than you, and they will inevitably leave you, just like everyone else, in your sad puddle of solitude. So indulge while you still can. It won't be long until you are sitting on a stained couch covered in crumbs and syrup with and angry cat biting your toes because you won't feed it out of your own petty bitterness and sadism, watching something horrible that you don't understand because of all the commercial breaks because you never got a good job because you were too busy feeling sorry for yourself and can't afford cable now, which you don't deserve anyway for being the big piece of crap that you are.
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Friends on being supportive. [Nov. 16th, 2003|12:34 am]
chronicles of a serial dater
My dear, beloved, wonderful friends. They do try. And sometimes they even succeed despite my best efforts at indulging all of my self-pity, soul searching, i'll always be alone areas.
There are a few popular strategies for trying to comfort me.
The first resort is excessive drinking. Thats right. If it hurts, drown it. This is a particularly good one because it often serves to distract me from the original perpetrator, by means of new conquest. Oh the magical elixir.
Despite this method's almost perfect success rate, it does have some pitfalls. Sometimes, due to no fault of my own, the new conquest is a big mistake. Which normally would be just fine, but under such circumstance it might only amplify my love pain. However, in the small chance that I am not a complete idiot and I don't make a horrible choice of conquest, another pitfall might be the hungover morning after. Sure I had a jolly old time with people I care about the night before, but the morning, ugh. Waking up bloated and shiny with lung cancer in my mouth is never a picker upper. But then again, this is something I experience regularly and should be used to by now.
The second most popular method, sometimes used concurrently with the first, is that of bashing everything about the villain, from character attacks, to yo mamma, to your fate of becoming an overweight drain on soceity. This is a good time. Unless I am on the receiving end of the final blow, in which case not only do I get dumped, but I get dumped by someone bound to be an overweight drain on soceity. And this makes me either angry, which means victory for friends, or sad, which means failure of round one, time for round two. See, because anger pushes out sadness in my limited emotional space, and then I can go on having sporadic violent outbursts like the lovable old me. But sad, there's just nothing good about that. I'm crap at sad. I'm mopey and moist. No one wants that. In fact, I say, when you see something like that, shoot it. But thankfully my friends are kind souls, and they just switch to the third method.
Feeding. Oh ya, sad feeding. So much fun. You can eat as much crap as you want and no one will tell you that you're putting on weight, because they're not allowed, because you're sad! Its brilliant. Sure it carries some repercussions, but whats a few months of belt war for a good grieving period? My vanity prevents me from being an avid fan of this one, but fan or not, I do it.
The feeding should work. Especially for mid-level crises. But if it doesn't... Oh my. The most dreaded of all. Trying to come up with comforting advice. Everyone kind of falls apart here. Myself included. This is really uncomfortable territory. No one knows what to say, and I don't know what face to make in response. There's other fish in the sea. It happens to everyone. We're young. Just keep repeating those until something happens that lets us redirect our attention and never speak of this again. Its really awkward, and it can't sustain itself for extended periods of time. It has to stop within one hour. If it goes past that ... well, lets just say, it never goes past that.
And with time, and with love, everything gets better. Until I screw up again, and we do it all over.
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Lets begin at the beginning. [Nov. 15th, 2003|09:24 pm]
chronicles of a serial dater
But that would take far too long. So I'm going to start with the most recent and jump around without any apparent order.
I was dumped yesterday. I'm still raw and bitter. It was one of the more unpleasant ones, or so it seems to me the day after. But I think after a couple of weeks, or a couple of drinks, it won't seem so bad at all.
Here's how it happened. I met this person, for the sake of discretion, lets call them Person R, a month ago. A month and two days ago to be exact. We met at a bar. Bad start already. Person R is very attractive. When I first saw Person R I got that special little tingle in my private place. In fact, I leaned over to my friend and said, "Thats the new victim."
What do I mean by "victim"? Absolutely nothing. Focus on the issue at hand! The dumping.
So we met. We ran into each other three separate times that night. The first meeting, at the bar, I didn't hear anything, nor do I remember anything I said. But judging from the second meeting, I think it went well.
We ran into each other later on outside. Person R took a picture of me. I can't say this was the most flattering picture I've ever taken, but I don't think that matters.
Then we ended up going to the same apartment building for our respective friends. So we rendezvoused in the hallway. By this point I had peed out most of what was hindering my memory earlier so I have the unfortunate recollection of what went on. This would have been great, had it not been for it..
We had a good talk, covered some basics (a repeat performance of what I forgot from the bar), I made some good jokes, in fact I was all around charming and witty... but then, and it pains me to say this as much, if not more, as it pains you to read this. ...but then, I farted.
I know. I am ashamed. I broke the code. I broke the rules. I did the most unseemly thing in the most unseemly circumstances. And there was nothing I could do about it. It was the first night. I couldn't write it off to comfort or longevity. There was nothing. It was just this big, horrible, ugly thing between us.. potentially destroying our yet to be beautiful union.
I couldn't think of anything to say. The way I saw it was that anything I said would only make it more horrible. So I made a sound. A sound! Come to think of it, maybe the break up was warranted.
And after this unseemly event. I kissed Person R. It wasn't earth shattering, it wasn't even very good. I never did like the way Person R kissed.
But despite my faux pas, all was well. We spoke the next day. And the day after. And the day after. We slept together at least four days a week. I was thinking that this was going well. I was thinking I might even fall in love with this person... someday. Someday far, far away.
But after about three weeks or so, Person R was no where to be found. I didn't know if Person R had died, or had been kidnapped. Never did it cross my mind that Person R may not wish to see me anymore. For, until this point, Person R was far more articulate about our state of the union than I had ever been. Person R was so articulate about Person R's affections that Person R made me a little nervous.
So I called. And called. And called. I called a lot. I called beyond any legitimate excuse. I called like a madman.
Finally at the end of a week of this obsessive calling, I got Person R on the phone. Person R said that Person R's schedule was too busy at the moment to have a relationship. I told Person R that Person R is full of shit. And then I said some other things.
So Person R tells me that Person R can't see themselves in a relationship with me. I said some more things. I don't take rejection well.
And that was the end of it. As quickly as it started, it ended. Pretty, pretty Person R. I wonder what will become of you now...
Thats enough wondering. After all, I was the one dumped, I get all the attention. I am beginning to wonder what will become of me. How many of these failed beginnings will there be? Or worse yet, how many successful?
I'm still curious to see how I'm going to deal with this one. I can't tell yet if I'm going into a prolonged session of gender bashing and comfort eating. Or if the horse is already saddled, waiting to be mounted again.
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