2002-02-06
7:03 p.m.

Here's the thing.

You went a long time without a girlfriend, right? I mean, a long. Fucking. Time. From the moment you first noticed women all the way up through college, you didn't have one to call your own and yet you spent a majority of your time and effort trying to figure out a way to become a boyfriend. To become loved. You spent so much time trying to figure it all out that you never looked up and looked around and decided to have fun. You were so serious about the whole thing, that you drove any girl that might have shown interest away. You stupid bastard.

And then you hit college. And started hooking up. Alot. For a time, you forgot about getting a girl because you were "getting" a girl. Or two. Or ten. Oh, ok, you get the idea. And then, one morning you woke up and didn't remember her name and when she finally woke up and you spoke your first non-inebriated words to each other you realized that there were no (and I mean no) redeeming qualities about her. And you wanted some. Redeeming qualities. You started to realize that it wasn't about *them*, it was about *her*. And you started to wonder where she was and when you'd meet her. And the more you thought about it, the more you couldn't stop thinking about it. And the more you couldn't stop thinking about it, the more in consumed you. It consumed you to the point that potential 'hers' could see it from a mile away and ditched you like rats off a sinking ship. You stupid bastard. And finally you looked up and saw just how deep the whole you dug for yourself really was. And you got angry. And cynical. You gave up.

Then you met her. Maybe not the her, but certainly a her. And you were happier than you could remember. Hell, maybe you were happier than you'd been ever. You didn't know. More to the point, you didn't care. You were all about her in all ways. Things were good and probably stayed good for some time. After a while though, your little noggin started to work again. You started to ask yourself questions about where the relationship was going and if you could stay with her and stay happy and if she felt the same way. But the kicker was; you were probably too scared to bring these questions up. And I say 'probably' only to be nice. You were scared. You should have brought them up. You fucking Mary. But, in retrospect, she was probably wondering the same thing and she was probably just as scared to bring them up. I'm sure it came to a head after a while. Maybe it was a drunken conversation, maybe it was behind the safety of MCI long distance. The point is, you eventually had the dreaded talk of death, and realized that you were both on different pages. You realized it couldn't work. If you're like me, you didn't want to commit time to anything that wouldn't work. You gave up. You gave in. You did the only thing you could do. You said goodbye.

And then, I'm sure you cried. Alot. Never for anyone to see, that just wouldn't be respectable. But, in the privacy of the shower, or in the loneliness of the highway, or in the quiet of your bedroom, you cried. You never knew anything not involving a blade and some lemon juice could hurt so terribly bad. After the crying came the second guessing. In alot of ways, the second guessing was worse than the crying. In alot of ways it led to more crying. The point is, you were useless to yourself and to other potential hers for a long, long time.

One morning you woke up and realized that it didn't hurt anymore. Not that it hurt less; that had been going on for some time. It just plain didn't hurt. Maybe you weren't over her, but you were ready to move past her. You dated, you laughed, you surprised yourself by smiling again. You learned new things about new women and began to think that you were emotionally secure. You dated alot of girls. Ok, maybe not objectively, but certainly subjectively. And still, you never quite made it back to the serious-relationship status. You began to wonder why that was, but always it was something to do with her. She stopped calling you, she was never available, she creeped you out.

One morning you woke up and understood. You had been sabotaging your relationships. Oh, you never did it consciously, of course. All the same it had been done and would probably continue being done. You never made an effort, you didn't try to adapt you schedule to hers, she wasn't creepy what so ever. You thought alot about it. More than you should have, probably. You finally came to a conclusion.

You're scared. Really. You don't want to be hurt. And if it means that you're never loved again, so be it. Anything is better than handing her your heart and having it returned as 'not needed.'

And then you realize just how much horse shit that is. You want to be loved; you need to be loved. You're scared. You've been hurt. Ain't nuthin' nobody can do 'bout that now. You've just gotta go from it. You've just gotta grow from it.

One day you get a date. A perfectly nice girl. An interesting girl. A sweet girl. Immediately the roadblocks go up. All the reasons why it won't work. All the reasons why you should cancel the date.

Dude, it's one date. Have fun.

Here's the thing: you're scared.

And while it's ok to be scared, it's not ok to let it control you. Not in the least. If you do, you've let one person control your life. And that person isn't you.

Are you willing to make that sacrifice?

Didn't think so.




downtown----uptown
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