I went for a 32 mile drive around town today. I drove through my favorite countryside neighborhood, sang my lungs out, & did quite bit of thinking. There’s something about the car that’s a lot like the shower – even though they’re worlds apart. I’ve never been naked in the car. Well, actually – thats a story for another day. I made it a point to listen to very girly songs on the drive. Songs about feminine things – like heart break, and survival and female empowerment. And as they songs played on, I tried to compile my thoughts. I tried to speak some real shit to myself. and this is what I came up with.
I’ve got an apology.
I want to say that I’m sorry. I’m sorry for shoving the blame onto men. For ranting about how selfish and rude and deceitful they are. I’m not going to make excuses for them, they make enough of their own. However, I shouldn’t use them as an excuse for myself & my behaviors, either. I know that it is partially my fault that I’m single & alone. I know it’s because I sit at home all weekend, instead of going out downtown. Because I find something wrong with every boy that I do (by some act of God) manage to meet. Because, even after all this time, I haven’t let go of the vision in my head that my mother swears is a level of perfection nobody could possibly live up to.
It’s my fault, just as much as it is theirs (sometimes).
It’s really hard (for me) to navigate the world of dating. There are men who will pretend they want a girlfriend, to use you for things. There are men who actually want a girlfriend. There are men who appreciate a woman who speaks her mind, and men who prefer you only talk every couple of days. There are men who can take a dirty comment for what it is, flirtation; and there are men who treat you like a tease if you make sex references and then don’t make out with them behind the coffee bar after your first date. It’s hard to know who you’re supposed to be when you’re talking to someone new, because a little part of you tries to bend to be the person your newest interest desires.
I think that has to stop.
It’s really hard, for me, though.
It’s hard for me to remain 100% true to myself, while also coming off as interesting to the new people I meet. If you like baseball, I’ll talk baseball. If you’re in a band, we’ll talk music. If you like to write, I’m convinced you’re my husband. If you like to workout, I’ll word vomit about he gym. It’s part of carrying on a successful conversation – listening & responding with relatable topics.
Its also hard for me to not come off as a slut, because – I don’t know how to flirt at this level: __ The low-key level.
I tend to flirt up here –.
And that gets me into trouble.
Conversations turn inappropriate a lot sooner than I’d like them to, because my sarcasm is mistaken for sincerity. Or, because I’ve learned that’s what draws boys in. (and probably partly because I’m 27 years old and like to be raunchy sometimes simply because it’s fun). However, all of this probably explains the situations I’ve found myself in lately.
Maybe men aren’t the only assholes.
Moving forward, I must be careful about what I put out there. Only thoughts & words & feelings that 100% convey my true desires. I have to learn patience. & re-learn honesty. and quit trying to jam pieces into my puzzle where they simply don’t fit. I have to accept that my husband is out there, somewhere, looking for me too. and I am not going to find him by pretending he’s someone else. Someone who managed to arrive a little sooner.
I’m sorry for pushing all of the blame onto the men.
And I’m sorry for making this more complicated that it needs to be.
PS. “Maybe that’s the problem with being a writer:
You have so many ways to say I love you but only hear one back.”