The L Word

I think part of my singledom arises from my fear of intimacy and commitment. I usually don't know how I feel about someone until I've already screwed the relationship up. I'm terrified of the big L - love. In fact, I've never said "I love you" to a guy. I'm not a complete freak - I tell my friends and family I love them all the time. I just can't be that open and honest with a guy I'm in a relationship with. And it's kinda landed me in a pickle.

I dated a guy for awhile - we'll call him A. We never really established our relationship - again my commitment issues. But it was about as serious as I've ever gotten with a guy. I knew A in high school, but we didnt date until college. Now we live in different cities, but we still keep in touch and are good friends. When I was home for Thanksgiving, he came over and spent the holiday with my family. Then we went out. Then we hooked up. Then he said "I love you." and my response was "no you don't" It was kinda uncomfortable after that...
-M

misty water colored memories

I brought up G, my long distance very complicated fake boyfriend, in an earlier post. I thought I would share with everyone the story of how we met. The first day of school of my freshman year of college, some of the girls in the dorm were invited to a party some guys were having that night. Obviously after 3 days of orientation bonding experiences I was already best friends with these girls, so I went to the party with them. And there was G. I was attracted to him immediately, even though he is kinda goofy looking. We started talking and he got my phone number. The next day I called my best friend from high school and told her I had met the man I was going to marry.

So a few days later, the first friday of the first week of classes, there's always a huge beginning of the year party. The freshman are always warned against going because you could get in trouble for being underage or worse - most freshman end up drinking too much and bad things happen. Obviously, my friends were all about the party. So G called me and we met up. And i was one of those freshman who didn't know my alcohol limits, so most of the night is pretty fuzzy. Until G kissed me. And then I puked on him. He was really sweet and took care of me, but I swore up and down that I was never going to see him ever again. So much for that theory, huh?

weddings are not good for single people

maybe it's because i'm single and bitter instead single and happy for people who have found love, but i haven't had the best time at weddings in my young adult life. a little while back my archnemesis got married. we had been frenemies since age 3. we went to the same school, church, did the same activities. she even broke my nose during gymnastics class. she competed with me for everything and was voted "most likely to succeed" in our high school who's who. after graduating high school and moving on with our lives, i didn't think her wedding would be such a big deal. i mean, she ended up graduating from our state school with a teaching degree and i had to settle for my ivy league education. who's most likely to succeed now bitch? but there's something about love and marriage that every woman wants, no matter how independent she claimes to be.

since i'm in professional school and swamped with work every night, there wasn't exactly a guy i could ask to be my date. it would require a weekend at home with my parents and dealing with old high school scars that were resurfacing. that is not a situation you want to place a guy you're casually talking to in. to compensate for going alone to the wedding, i maxed out my credit card on a new dress and shoes. i also spent 2 hours getting ready for the wedding. i was determined to prove to everyone there that just because she was getting married, she did not "win" or "beat me." i was a successful, hot woman who didn't need a man to make her life complete. even though i really wanted one. that was just between me and my jimmy choos.

so during the reception i did what any self-respecting singleton does. i made my life sound amazingly fun and exciting. I was on top of the world. There were guys of course, but noone special enough to tie me down. (the truth was more that the last date i had been on was 3 months earlier and i'm pretty sure i scared the guy off) i also had a few too many glasses of wine. So wine + self-pity + alone = calling an ex-boyfriend. If there was anything I could take back in my life, it would probably be this. I called an ex-lover of mine because he was a guaranteed hook-up and it would make me feel better about myself that someone was still attracted to me. only it didnt make me feel better about myself. no i didn't come to any existential realizations about how i'm the only one in control of my feelings and emotions. i hooked up with him and THEN he told me he had a girlfriend. i was drunk so i kinda brushed it off, but then he pointed out that she was "the one." i felt like shit. he was intending on marrying this girl and didn't have a problem cheating on her. i didn't do anything wrong intentionally. am i supposed to facebook stalk everyone i drunk-dial to check their relationship status? but the moral of the story is the same. most men suck and it's worth waiting around for a good one. they're hard to find. oh and don't get drunk at weddings when you're especially vulnerable.

B-O-B round 1

My freshman year of college was when most of the ridiculously embarrassing i'm-inept-at-dating/sex/love stories started. I met a guy, Bob, at an underage club (hot right?) and he went to my college, so it seemed safe enough right? He kissed me at the bar, but it was the first week of college and I wasn't sure what you were supposed to do next. So I went home with my girls instead of the cute guy.

Flashfoward a few weeks and I ran into Bob at a party. This time I was better prepared for what happens when you're young, drunk, and attracted to someone. I went back to Bob's dorm room - after several drinks i might add. He add a top bunk and things started happening and ... i knocked him off the bed and he hit his head on the radiator. He was on the floor unconscious. I slapped his cheeks a few times, yelled his name. soooooooo I snuck out of the room and went home. But it gets worse, because it always does. Turns out Bob was the brother of one of my new college friends. Bob had gotten a slight concussion and never wanted to see me again.
-M