===============================
It's a recipe for hell monkeys! (I have no reason for using this as a title for this entry, other than the fact that the sentence amuses me.)
Ok, so here's the revelation of the day. I know it takes a person of a certain overall mindset to be only 22 years old and still be of the belief that they are destined to be alone forever. I have come to the conclusion that I am one of the poor saps who is of this sad, neurotic constitution. I mean I've been single for the OVERWHELMING majority of my adult life, and during the few rare occasions that I've cultivated anything even remotely resembling a successful relationship with a heterosexual male which exceeded the bounaries of platonic interaction, it has inevitably (and more often than not, rapidly) crumbled miserably into the annals of failed-relationship lore.
Please don't misunderstand me here... I'm not looking for "THE ONE" at the moment... For Christ's sake, I'm only 22. But the truth is that I am looking for signs of the mere existence of intelligent life forms beyond the platonic level, and at present I'm coming up empty handed here. Is it really so much for me to ask just to want to spend the interim (between now, and the time when the search for "THE ONE" eventually begins) with an acceptable guy? Once again, it seems like I'm asking too much of the boys.
Now, I've heard a few theories from other people on my chronic-single-ness, which I'm more than willing to share with you fine folks:
1) I undermine my own relationships. - I disagree, though from an outsider's point of view I can understand how it might look that way. The fact is that in any relationship I've ever considered to have even the most miniscule amount of something resembling a successful relationship (or at least the start of one) , it has been with a REALLY jealous person, a long-distance thing, (those REALLY RARELY work,) a manipulative self-absorbed ego-maniac, the most indecisive person EVER, and a chronic cheater who was also a rather emotionally manipulative fellow. (And I really don't think any of my exes read this thing, so if you think I'm talking about you, I'm probably not... but you never know, so do feel free to ask if you're all that concerned) ...Which leads me to number 2.
2) I am attracted to the wrong kinds of guys. - Now that I sit and look at it, I have to at least partially agree with this one. In retrospect, I do find myself involved with guys who make successful relationships damn near impossible. But in my own defense, all of these guys did at some point have their redeeming qualities as well, which for at least some period of time made up for their shortcommings. (And to my credit, while I am presently single, it might be because I don't like putting up with the afforementioned crap) This brings us, rather conveniently I might add, to observation number 3.
3) I am too picky. - I wholeheartedly disagree with this one. I am willing to give just about anyone a fair shot. And we all know I hate doing the breakup dance (while a rare event, it has happened,) so in general you've gotta be doing something REALLY bad or making me REALLY crazy to drive me to the end of the line. Also, we all know I'm at the heart of a very serious dry spell, and I'm just about ready to make out with anything that shows the least bit of interest in me and posesses a Y chromosome. (XY = BOY for those of you who don't know) So the picky thing has flown the coop on this one. And besides, I'm a reasonably attractive girl, (XX chromosomes) and I have a brain, and I refuse to apologize for the fact that I'm not willing to lower my standards to the level of dating the homeless men on the street who cat call me every so often. (Sorry Froggy... wait Froggy is homeless, he doesn't have a computer, although he used to have a functional cell phone... weird.)
4) I am repugnant and/or repulsive in some way. - I really hope this one isn't true, but under the current circumstances, it's not safe to exclude this one just yet... CRAP.
So, that's the best I can come up with.
I'm single, and hating it. (I pray to god that there will come a day when I can look back on that sentence and either announce the exact opposite "I'm no longer single, and I'm loving it" or on some day in the distant future I will look at those words written so long ago, and I will think to myself, "My god, what the hell were you thinking? YOU WERE SINGLE! THAT WAS THE LIFE!")
At present I am thinking that there is very little, if any, hope for my romantic future. Granted, my mother has tried to hook me up with patients at her office, family members of co-workers, etc, basically any guy between the ages of 20 and 35 who she thinks is even remotely attractive or acceptable, and who generally turn out to be neither attractive nor acceptable... but she means well, so I overlook it.
Yup, I'm convinced that I will live the rest of my pathetic life in male-less misery and I will eventually die alone. No one will notice I've gone missing for a good week or two, and when they do, they will discover my remains (bottle of alcohol still in hand) partially, if not mostly (depending on the length of time since my demise went unnoticed) consumed by a pack of wild marmosets, or yetties, or kangaroos, or something like that.
I DARE SOMEONE TO PROVE ME WRONG! I SET FORTH THE CHALLENGE TO PROVE ME WRONG AS SOON AS POSSIBLE!
Ok, so here's the revelation of the day. I know it takes a person of a certain overall mindset to be only 22 years old and still be of the belief that they are destined to be alone forever. I have come to the conclusion that I am one of the poor saps who is of this sad, neurotic constitution. I mean I've been single for the OVERWHELMING majority of my adult life, and during the few rare occasions that I've cultivated anything even remotely resembling a successful relationship with a heterosexual male which exceeded the bounaries of platonic interaction, it has inevitably (and more often than not, rapidly) crumbled miserably into the annals of failed-relationship lore.
Please don't misunderstand me here... I'm not looking for "THE ONE" at the moment... For Christ's sake, I'm only 22. But the truth is that I am looking for signs of the mere existence of intelligent life forms beyond the platonic level, and at present I'm coming up empty handed here. Is it really so much for me to ask just to want to spend the interim (between now, and the time when the search for "THE ONE" eventually begins) with an acceptable guy? Once again, it seems like I'm asking too much of the boys.
Now, I've heard a few theories from other people on my chronic-single-ness, which I'm more than willing to share with you fine folks:
1) I undermine my own relationships. - I disagree, though from an outsider's point of view I can understand how it might look that way. The fact is that in any relationship I've ever considered to have even the most miniscule amount of something resembling a successful relationship (or at least the start of one) , it has been with a REALLY jealous person, a long-distance thing, (those REALLY RARELY work,) a manipulative self-absorbed ego-maniac, the most indecisive person EVER, and a chronic cheater who was also a rather emotionally manipulative fellow. (And I really don't think any of my exes read this thing, so if you think I'm talking about you, I'm probably not... but you never know, so do feel free to ask if you're all that concerned) ...Which leads me to number 2.
2) I am attracted to the wrong kinds of guys. - Now that I sit and look at it, I have to at least partially agree with this one. In retrospect, I do find myself involved with guys who make successful relationships damn near impossible. But in my own defense, all of these guys did at some point have their redeeming qualities as well, which for at least some period of time made up for their shortcommings. (And to my credit, while I am presently single, it might be because I don't like putting up with the afforementioned crap) This brings us, rather conveniently I might add, to observation number 3.
3) I am too picky. - I wholeheartedly disagree with this one. I am willing to give just about anyone a fair shot. And we all know I hate doing the breakup dance (while a rare event, it has happened,) so in general you've gotta be doing something REALLY bad or making me REALLY crazy to drive me to the end of the line. Also, we all know I'm at the heart of a very serious dry spell, and I'm just about ready to make out with anything that shows the least bit of interest in me and posesses a Y chromosome. (XY = BOY for those of you who don't know) So the picky thing has flown the coop on this one. And besides, I'm a reasonably attractive girl, (XX chromosomes) and I have a brain, and I refuse to apologize for the fact that I'm not willing to lower my standards to the level of dating the homeless men on the street who cat call me every so often. (Sorry Froggy... wait Froggy is homeless, he doesn't have a computer, although he used to have a functional cell phone... weird.)
4) I am repugnant and/or repulsive in some way. - I really hope this one isn't true, but under the current circumstances, it's not safe to exclude this one just yet... CRAP.
So, that's the best I can come up with.
I'm single, and hating it. (I pray to god that there will come a day when I can look back on that sentence and either announce the exact opposite "I'm no longer single, and I'm loving it" or on some day in the distant future I will look at those words written so long ago, and I will think to myself, "My god, what the hell were you thinking? YOU WERE SINGLE! THAT WAS THE LIFE!")
At present I am thinking that there is very little, if any, hope for my romantic future. Granted, my mother has tried to hook me up with patients at her office, family members of co-workers, etc, basically any guy between the ages of 20 and 35 who she thinks is even remotely attractive or acceptable, and who generally turn out to be neither attractive nor acceptable... but she means well, so I overlook it.
Yup, I'm convinced that I will live the rest of my pathetic life in male-less misery and I will eventually die alone. No one will notice I've gone missing for a good week or two, and when they do, they will discover my remains (bottle of alcohol still in hand) partially, if not mostly (depending on the length of time since my demise went unnoticed) consumed by a pack of wild marmosets, or yetties, or kangaroos, or something like that.
I DARE SOMEONE TO PROVE ME WRONG! I SET FORTH THE CHALLENGE TO PROVE ME WRONG AS SOON AS POSSIBLE!
No comments:
Post a Comment