Alright, We’re Gonna Try This Again…

OK Internet. Get it together and don’t screw me over again, alright??


We’re good?


Alright. We can begin.

So what should be my topic of the day? I wonder.


I could talk about the movies that I have been stockpiling for entertainment when the world is overtaken by zombies. Logistics to be worked out later.


Or I could discuss politics some more. Not to your liking?





No, I know what I’ll do. I’ll discuss dating. It’s what I do best.


So for those of you who haven’t read my earlier posts, I’m a serial singleton. I never date, and when I do, I usually have to drug myself with blood pressure pills so I don’t have constant panic attacks. I’ve been to several psychologists and doctors to see what can be done about my mental health in regards to my ability to build emotional walls so goddamn high that a metaphorical space station could see that shit.


(sorry, it kind of had to be done)



Ooooh Colorblind, I love this song (sorry my laptop iTunes is on shuffle and I’m easily distracted). *Give me a minute here to have a karaoke sesh and perhaps a viewing of Cruel Intentions*


Oh like you really thought I was gonna mention Cruel Intentions without showing this little puppy of a clip!


Ok, I’m good. Back to dating.


So I met a guy a month ago and we went on a few dates. That’s it. To most people, that is like a grain of sand on the beach of life (poetic huh?). To me that was like WOH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!





These dates are such a big deal to me because before them, I hadn’t been on a date in almost 2 years. Before that, it was another year and a half since I was ‘seeing’ somebody.


In my mind, I’m like the catch of the season.


But somehow, I just don’t meet guys. It could be the fact that I spend every free minute reading books and watching films rather than actually leaving my house but that is totally not my fault. If people had more fancy dress parties, I would totally leave my house more often. Bars are just boring most of the time. You go, you pay INSANE amounts of money to drink, you talk to your girlfriend in your cutest outfit and then you give up after 2 hours and go back home again.


Most of the time, the guys that hit on me have an ultra high creep factor and I feel like I might be in genuine danger or at least genuine awkwardness, if I was to date one of them.




Anyway, so about a month ago, I left my house to go to a Halloween fancy dress party. I met a guy, he got my number, he called. We hung out. I stopped responding to his texts and then when he got the message and stopped texting me, I was suddenly SUPER interested again.



I had spent hours finding perfectly good *cough*rubbish*cough* reasons *cough*excuses*cough*  to not be interested in the very attractive soldier from a very cool, exotic location and then when he lost interest in my lack of interest, I got interested again. Interest. Sorry. Just wondered how many times I could use that word. No wonder men think we’re the biggest pain in the ass. I thought I was immune to the normal crap that women pull when dating. I figured the emotional shit I was dealing with was enough but no, I’m one of the millions of women who only want guys who don’t want her.


Normally, when I date (which is never), I date nice, stable guys. They call when they say they will and they treat me well.


There’s no excitement and they’re never charming so I get bored so quickly. The best part of dating is all the waiting. I love that shit. I mean, I hate it. But I love it.


All the anticipation of wondering if he wants you and seeing just how much he wants you. God, it’s like catnip for chicks.


We live for the drama. Except I thought I was cool and low maintenance and one of the guys, therefore not like that. BUT I AM! I have never been so disappointed in myself. I became needy and pathetic when only a week before I was so chilled out and ambiguous about the whole episode.

I should clarify, by needy and pathetic, I mean that if he didn’t reply after a few days, I texted him again. Once. That’s about as clingy as I have ever been but for me that was pretty intense.


No wonder girls go after assholes. I get it now. I never understood why women would be so thrilled by all that stuff. I mean, I would still never date an asshole but at least I feel like some kind of emotional secret girls club is now open to me. A little. On Sundays.

Oh well, now I’m like, super practiced in the art of awkward conversations and like, flicking my hair and like, pouting and shit, I’m super excited about dating some more.

After all, I should at least pretend that I’m not intending to die alone with 20 cats.



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