Thursday, November 17, 2011

my shady past... with dating. part 3.

So at this point we've talked about the pitiful lack of experience I had with boys by the time I turned 18 and done some annoying number crunching that went nowhere and you've also maybe read about the fact that in college and beyond I rocked at finding men to date. I mean, they were the wrong men. But still, they were there, dating me.

And now it's time for some amatuer theories about what the fuck I think was wrong with me over the seven year tour de man from then to now.

Let me start off by stating again that I'm an asshole. Also, another fun fact that I'll bring up again is that in the time I spent dating, I never once intentionally entered into a relationship. Until Matt. No six month anniversaries. No timeline of events. No promises and plans for the most part.

I was a casual dater that several times got roped into a lot more than I bargained for.

I truly, truly do not know why I was never all that interested in anything serious.  Twice I've woken up one morning and realized that I was actually right in the midst of something serious. It's nothing until it's... more than just something.  In fact, my most serious 'relationship' prior to now started as a summer fling, and I probably should have followed my instinct and just left that one there.

I'm the person who walks into a buffet and stands there, transfixed and unable to move for all the possibility. I think of all the food I could eat, start piling it onto as many plates as I can carry at once, and after three bites I feel completely stuffed by just the prospect of it all. Easily overwhelmed. Freakish. Kind of both.

Instead of listening to my inner voice at 18 and taking it easy on the man meat, I forced myself to immediately start wading into the feeding frenzy of the college dating pool. At first it was fun. Since I'd never really strayed from the pack of runners I was a part of in high school, I was never really approached by anyone not already in our group. At college, I wasn't just another skinny, slightly dorky runner girl in a tight group of other skinny, slightly dorky runner girls just like me. I was actually much less than that, I was one in a sea of thousands. But I could be whoever I wanted to be. I could do whatever I wanted to do.

And I wanted to party.

Which led me to make reckless decisions, ignore responsibilties, and get some shitty grades my first year in college.

However, I knew better than to wander the streets alone, drunk. So I learned to always con some poor, kind, sucker into escorting me safely home since my partner in partying ALWAYS disappeared from parties without saying goodbye. Apparently I'm rather charming when I'm a little loosey-goosey, because instead of being totally disgusted and dismayed by my selfish actions and GALL to not invite them up to my warm and toasty bunk bed, these self-appointed escorts sought me out in sober settings... You know to eat together at the dining hall the next day, attend their brother's high school football games, and take walks with ice cream... also, to attend more parties with them.

And it was awesome.

Because you see. All I wanted was a safe walk home, an invite to the next party, and someone to hand me a beer when I got there. And I got ALL of those things.

Which is the start of me NOT considering what the other half of the equation would look like to reach a balance with an equal sign in the middle.

Surprisingly, these stand up suckers walking me home, the ones that kept seeking me out, they wanted something serious.

A girlfriend.

Are you fucking kidding me? Freshman and Sophomores in college that actually WANTED A GIRLFRIEND.

I was appalled. This is not what I expected.

I guess I found out there were two types of guys around me. The ones I successfully avoided because they wanted to get in my pants and then never see me again. Or the other guys, these wanted a nice girlfriend to show off to mom and dad and parents weekend.

Again, What the hell?

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