Naked

I’m starting to wonder if maybe there is something wrong with me. Am I slowly turning into a pretentious asshole against my better judgement? Or has it simply been so long since I’ve felt genuinely happy without a sense of dread or “what is this going to cost me” that my sense of emotions are just fucking screwed?

Case for the pretentious dick: As I’m writing this I am using a bamboo laptop tray. I bought a fucking bamboo laptop tray. Not even to use for my actual laptop (full disclosure, I’m writing on my iPad, which I also bought a keyboard case for), but to fucking color on! Yeah, I adult color. A “hobby” I picked up last spring as a method to try to stay sane. Now it’s this huge trendy thing and I’m kind of annoyed by that. 

Secondly, I’m listening to goddamned Claire de Lune via headphones even though my roommate isn’t home, so really, who gives a shit? Mostly though, I write sometimes listening to classical music. That’s also a new habit of mine. I’d like to say I read it gets the creative juices flowing, or some other bullshit, but really, I have no idea why I do it. One night I just decided that I wanted to listen to some, and it has become my defacto choice while writing.

Third point: I’ve been openly telling people I’m an asshole and a dick. I think I’m only being partially sarcastic. I am absolutely fucking judging you based on a myriad of things, the least of which is your grammar and punctuation in text messages and on social media. I’ve become that guy. I have become so fucking irritated with ignorance and vapidness that I am openly hostile with people who believe in things like fucking chemtrails and creationism, but the scary part is, they either don’t realize it, or think that I’m fucking kidding! No! I truthfully think you’re a goddamn moron! Here’s a fucking science book.

Point the fourth. THE BIG DEAL. I’m just so blah about some things that I should have been excited about. OK, so maybe this one really fits more into the “Emotionally Screwed” category…

***Up for debate***

OK, so a few posts/months ago I posted that I was going to give dating a try again. After two disastrous attempts of friends trying to set me up with people that resulted in me just laughing manically internally for hours, I didn’t move the need at all. Not a single date. Nothing. Which, whatever, it’s winter, I fucking hibernate. Then the first week of February I get messaged by a for real lesbian matchmaker out of the blue. I didn’t seek her out, wasn’t even actively really using my stupid PoF account. 

So the matchmaker wants to set me up on a blind date. I was SUPER cautious about the whole thing, but after some checking, I accepted. The woman was nice, truly, and very intelligent, but she was much older than I was expecting and had a 7 year old. I think I’ve made it pretty clear across the universe at this point that I’m so not into kids. I have ZERO desire to be a parent. I’m 34 and I barely feel like I’ve lived life at all. No thank you.

So, yeah. Failure. Chalk it up to whatever. 

Then I have another date a week later. Once again, great conversation, time flew by, but I can’t help but feel like I should have felt something other than just relief that I was able to have intelligent conversation. I can’t decide if I’ve just been so starved for intellectual stimulation that this is why all I seem to be able to focus on is that, or if maybe I was right 2 years ago and I’m just not feeling the same things I used to anymore. 

I thought things were looking up after I stopped the birth control, but now I’m just not so sure. Maybe I just want certain things so much that anything else just won’t do it for me anymore? I mean, I guess the only way I will find out is by trying, but I’m not just going to fuck someone as an experiment. That’s just low, even for me. 

I don’t know if this is a physical, hormonal thing, or a mental, getting my shit together thing. I’ve settled and compromised so much in my past that I know that I’ve done a lot of self convincing that I’m not doing that ever again. Maybe I’ve just hit that point where as much as I’ve always felt I’m made to be with someone, being single and celibate is just the smartest choice I could make. I mean, I’m on Tinder now too, and I feel like all I do is swipe left. 

I fucking suck at dating, and I need too much. Meanwhile, I am the best fucking practice relationship a woman could ask for apparently. True to form. Which is just. Well. I’ve written about that before. I am not going to sit here at 3AM and rehash that whole fucking farce.

So yeah. I guess I’m just a dickish, douchebag, asshole. Who also might have lingering bedroom issues. 
Single. Celibate. Probably for the best.

~ by tatterednotes on March 1, 2016.

Posted in Life, Relationships
Tags: dating, introspection, life