A Kanye West inspired toast to running away as fast as you can

People keep telling me that when you meet the perfect person, “you’ll just know”. I’m not sure I believe that, but the more I date, the more I am coming to realize the “just knowing” may apply even better if the person is “wrong”. It should not take 8 years of dating to figure out if you like each other enough to commit. I don’t even think it should take 6 months. If I think back on the relationships I’ve had, the nails in the metaphorical relationship coffins were poised in place, awaiting their hammer blows. They were clearly visible and evident early. Some of the nails were bouncing off of my face while I ignored the bleeding, tetanus-infested wounds they left.

Let me elaborate upon these men’s fatal flaws, some of which seemed small, but were indicators of much larger issues:

1) The first boyfriend – Ernest. Ernest didn’t like to read. That should have been enough for my heart to reject all forms of attachment to him. My heart, after all, and its conception of love and romance is due in many parts to literature. This was an early indication of a man who simply didn’t value intellectualism and education, which are core values for me.

2) Van was self deprecating. Really though he had poor self esteem. He was incredibly self-conscious of his body. He had a need for constant validation, which was tiring.

3) Geek’s “first priority” was his career and he “wasn’t willing to compromise”. He liked to tell this to me often. It usually felt like an implication that I would never be a priority to him. And I wouldn’t. I guess at least he was honest? Fuck that shit.

4) Yogi had a broken heart at the same time that I did. He was my foil. However, two combined broken hearts do not magically repair one another – you’re just left with a messy pile of heart fragments.

5) Stable PP believed in dietary supplements. And I don’t just mean taking vitamins – I mean taking things that had no research or science to back them. When questioned about these practices, he became defensive. Stable PP had an inability to see grey. He was a “my way or the highway” sort of guy. He made up his mind and wasn’t good at adjusting his opinions to accommodate for new facts.

6) Blue Eyes was an unnecessary asshole. He liked to yell at strangers. You pulled over in a no-parking zone to drop off your grandmother and this guy would have yelled at you. On one of our first dates, I was driving with him in the passenger seat and a cab cut me off. I live in a big city. Cabs do that. Whatever. When we came to a red light, he got very agitated and INSTRUCTED me to pull up next to the cab so that he could yell at him. This is the sort of thing you do when you feel out of control and you have no power in your life. What a waste of time – going out of your way to make other people feel crappy.

And yet I dated him for another 6 weeks before HE broke it off. What’s wrong with me?? Why was I willing to forgive blatant assholery? I don’t like assholes. I feel pretty sure about that…

These guys were all projects to me. I believed that I could fix them, whether it was by encouraging Ernest to read Harry Potter, telling Van he was handsome, supporting Geek’s career, fixing Yogi’s broken heart, teaching Stable PP to think more critically about his ridiculous opinions, or helping Blue Eyes to be nicer.

The unifying theme which I have discovered in the process of my blogging pontification is that I tend to find flaws endearing and think that I can somehow be the solution to those flaws. My mother used to say that as soon as she felt sorry for an employee, it was time to get rid of them:

“I’m not a social worker”, she would state.

I thought it was sort of harsh, but I think the same logic can be applied to relationships. Nobody should be in a relationship with the intention of fixing the other person or trying to make them “whole”. The goal is to find somebody who is also whole and bring 2 parts together for a magical synergy of awesomeness that is greater than the sum of its parts.

So why have I spent so much of my life with men who have clear flaws? When you want so badly to have a person of your very own, it’s hard to walk away. “maybe he’s just nervous”, “but he has so many other great qualities”, blah blah blah.

I want a man who isn’t a fixer-upper. I want a partner who has got it together. I’m learning to say “I don’t think you’re necessarily a bad person, I just don’t think you’re the right person for me”. And I need to do this because I can’t waste my time on repairing the old Jalopy when the newest Aston Martin is rolling by on the next block. I just tried to use an automotive analogy and I can’t quite do it without giggling.

My goal now is to make a decision within 2 months at most. If I’m not sure at 2 months, they’re getting voted off the island. Maybe by the end, I’ll be left with my Ethan.

Any moment now he’s going to glide in here on his Nimbus 2000 and sweep me off my feet.

 

Any moment now…

 

If this man were single I would marry him

http://themattwalshblog.com/2014/06/19/dear-single-men-time-man-figure/

Getting back on the stupid horse

Usually I think horses are majestic creatures. But I hate this horse. I resent this horse. I want to just lay down flat on my back in the dirt and let this fucking donkey gallop away.

But I think I have to get back on. The only choice is to jam my boot in that stirrup and swing my leg over that stinky flea-infested back. Because the alternative to getting back on the dating horse is becoming the Crazy Cat Lady. And cats are way worse than horses. Horses are shy and sweet. Cats are on the devil-end of the evil spectrum…right next to ferrets. Ferrets are true evil.

So I re-activated my online dating account and I am begrudgingly answering questions about my “ideal date” or my “dream travel destination”. I’m tired of it already. It’s so time consuming. But what if he’s on there? What if he comes along and I miss him because it’s more interesting to go on Instagram and “like” photos of high school friends’ I haven’t seen in 10 years? Some of them make really delicious-looking meals that I can appreciate because I would never invest the effort to make them myself. Anyway, the point is that dating should be fun. If nothing else, it provides excellent fodder for the blog (and yes, that was another farm animal reference).

If my greatest stress in life is responding to online dating questions that must mean life is pretty great. Because that is the most unstressful problem ever. I basically feel like a horrible human for even considering it a problem. And so here is my resolve:

I resolve to stop letting this pursuit of Mr. Team-Awesome (that will be our married power couple team name) interfere with my happiness and enjoyment of the pony ride. I am going to just be happy and find some enjoyment in this process. Because I’ll be single until that moment when I’m not. And then I’ll never be single again. The darkest hour is just before dawn. Thanks Mama Cass.

Maybe there will be a man tomorrow, or maybe he’ll walk along in 5 years. My ovaries can probably hold out that long. And if they can’t, I will kick them to the curb and find another way. And if he doesn’t come along, I’ll do it alone and hire help to act in the place of a husband. It would be far less emotional and if I’m paying staff, they can’t complain about my forgetfulness or the fact that I leave dishes in the sink (it ruins a meal for me if I have to clean up after eating).

My life is too awesome to be spoiled by silly anxieties about things I cannot control. All I can do is put myself out there. So I’m on the horse. But maybe I’ll ride side saddle today. Or backwards like the daredevil I am (that’s a lie. I’m risk averse). I am Khaleesi. Boys – eat your hearts out (literally she did that…she ate a heart).

 

Sabotage

Yesterday I sabotaged a nice relationship by creating mountains out of molehills. (I don’t get a lot of chances to use this expression, so I’m happy it has an appropriate place here). I’ve done this a few times lately without any conscious effort by taking Blue Eyes’ comments too personally or blowing them out of proportion. Today Blue Eyes did what a reasonable person would do in response to my sabotage and ended the relationship. I’m sad. It’s been two months. I like him. He’s sincere and honest and good. I was starting to feel like he might be the kind of guy I could love one day.

He is the sort of guy who would never cheat on you, the sort of guy who would make a great father. He is hard-working and loves his family. I really enjoyed kissing him and the sex was great. He has a kind face.  I was having some flashes of tiny blue-eyed children.

But I was also having flashes that weren’t so great. I was imagining me coming home late and him frustrated with my dedication to my career. I was imagining arguments over stupid topics because we’re both stubborn. I was imagining disagreements about money and him annoyed that I never cooked dinner. I think he’s looking for a wife. So am I, but I intend on hiring her.

I was trying to like the idea of having a house husband…but not quite convincing myself. He’s not a big career guy. He seems to have very good work-life balance. I do not, and I don’t suspect I ever will. I love my work and I’m alright with the idea of it being somewhat consuming.

We had gotten into this pattern of sarcasm and defensiveness in our interactions. I was so afraid to just let him in that I just shut him down and was critical in response to anything from him that seemed remotely like criticism of me. I was so afraid of loving him that I went out of my way not to. How sad is that?

I don’t do anything 80%. I give everything I have. I did it with Geek and got burned so badly my hair is still charred. I think this is why I just couldn’t metaphorically “open my heart”. I have built myself a Fortress of Solitude…or maybe a Red Keep. I never liked the idea of the Fortress of Solitude – it must be freezing. (My kryptonite is being cold – of all things, I hate being cold the most. Or maybe being hungry…or tired. Listen I’ve got a lot of vulnerabilities, but one thing is clear here: I’m no Superman.)

It was a very adult breakup. There were no tears shed. There were no threats. There was no passive aggressiveness or name-calling. It was thoroughly emotionally healthy, which sort of made it harder. We hugged each other before he left and I had trouble letting go. I could feel us both having the thought, “shit – this might be the wrong decision”.

And it might have been.

I was coming around. I had spent the last 24 hours deciding that I was going to let him in even though it was terrifying. I never got the chance.

But he didn’t ask questions. He didn’t seem particularly interested in my life or opinions. I showed him this awesome youtube video (which was fascinating!) and he didn’t even seem to find it interesting. Intellectualism seemed to bore him. He didn’t get my awesome Sci-Fi and Fantasy themed puns and he didn’t like my awesome dad jokes. He rolled his eyes at my cheesiness which sort of made me feel chastised by the cool kids. Our senses of humour and interests didn’t actually line up that well. I had misgivings from the beginning. But so many of the big important elements were there.

I seem to have some break-up post traumatic stress because I couldn’t sleep last night after Blue Eyes left and I was rather nauseated. I had intense dreams all night, but they weren’t about Blue Eyes. They were about Geek. I suppose the emotionality of getting dumped again stirred up all of those feelings that I’ve been managing to suppress.

I like Blue Eyes and I’m sad because I feel like he was my hope and now the hope is gone. After it all happened, I got this burning in my chest and felt tears well to my eyes, but then realized it was just some acid reflux. After being crushed by Geek, I just don’t seem to have anything left to mourn men. I feel like maybe it’s time to stop trying to be in love. I feel hopeless.

Kanga told me this morning that until I have dated everyone on Earth, there will be hope. But I feel none of it. I feel resigned to my life as a crazy cat lady spinster. My dad told me that he didn’t care what I was when I grew up as long as I was the best at it. And I think I could make an awesome Crazy Cat Lady. Except for I don’t like cats. And I can never make my shopping cart go straight in the grocery store.

None of the movies ever tell you that finding “the one” is exhausting and it really really hurts.

How to Find a Husband: The Musical

It was my friend Jacon’s birthday this weekend so naturally we spent the weekend seeing multiple broadway musicals. I am now picturing each advancing scene in my life in musical theatre form. As I bike to work I sing “little town, it’s a quiet village. Every day like the one before”. I don’t go so far as to say “bonjour” to strangers on the street, but I want to. What’s wrong with a friendly francophone greeting every now and again? I keep having to hide my jazz hands in my pockets.

This got me thinking about a musical I would like to see. It would be called “How to Find a Husband” and it would essentially be an instruction manual in musical form. It would have witty jokes, inspiring songs by the full cast in 4-part harmony, and romantic ballads by a power couple of leads. And there would be tap dancing by people dressed as sailors. Oh, and a happy ending – not just one that ended with a wedding, but rather one where the two main characters died simultaneously of old age, holding hands, surrounded by their loving children. The crowd would be in glorious cathartic tears. Applause. Oh the applause.

The big hit song would be called “reeling him in” and would contain a plethora of fishing analogies. It would be a crowd pleaser, for sure. What else would be in the show? I don’t know because how the fuck do you find a husband? I consider myself unqualified to Andrew Lloyd Webber this one. Yes – I used Andrew Lloyd Webber’s name as a verb.

I’ve done pretty well with life so far. Generally I set a goal and then break out the steps to attain it. Then I knock the steps off one by one and BOOM – goal attained. This has been my pattern.

But I’m not sure how to do this in finding a life partner. It seems like the most huge of huge goals. In fact, it seems so huge, I don’t even feel like trying. What are the steps to finding your perfect partner? Where is the instruction manual? What is the chorus of the power ballad in this musical? The orchestra is silent.

All I want is for everything to be perfect. Is that too much to ask??

But nothing is ever perfect. Ever. So how much is enough? Svelte and I chatted about this the other day while I covered my face in a chocolate fudge sundae (a sure way to attract a husband). He’s been dating a girl and he likes her. He figures he could date her for 6 months and be content. But after 6 months, he’s not sure she’ll be enough. And this is the problem. The popular media has filled our brains with soul-mate infused dreams that make us think there is one person out there whose face will shine with radiance and perfection. Perhaps I’m a horrible skeptic, but I find it impossible to believe that exists. So assuming the 100% match doesn’t exist, what’s the cut off? Is 87% enough? 65%. I just don’t know. Do you hold out in hopes that 98% will come along? But what if he never does and after waiting around, the only guys left are 61% and 54%? Depressing.

I wish there were a rule manual, or an entertaining musical that would indicate a path, or perhaps a yellow brick road, to relationship success. I don’t know how to break this out into attainable steps. But I’m sure singing and dancing during my morning commute is a good first step. Men like that, right?

Fuck, I’m doomed.

 

My favourite musical love song for your enjoyment: