For the Benefit of Being Single 2

     Break ups are still hard. I'm still a neurotic whack-job. I feel like I'm a functional human this time around though. I'm not fucking everything with a penis. I'm not immersing myself in a pit of distractions. I'm not constantly wasted. Let me repeat: I'm not constantly wasted. Maybe the difference is that I recognized that I wasn't being treated well and I called it off. I found my self-respect. I hadn't even realized that I'd lost it.
     I'm not alone. Every person I know goes a little bit crazy post-relationship. Be it debilitating depression or otherwise unhealthy coping mechanisms, everyone does it. I know people that quit eating for weeks, or that got fired because they were too unstable to go to work. My alcoholism doesn't seem that bad by comparison. I still make all my shifts. I still find an appetite. Rather, I did when it was still fresh.
     I haven't had sex in three months.  It's not even for lack of opportunity. I just don't feel like meaningless sex. I don't really want a relationship either. I simply don't have any reason to get my freak on. I'm okay  with this. I'm happy. I know I've said that before, but I think I mean it this time. I've met cute and charming men. I've smiled politely and said I'm not interested. I hadn't really noticed until my friends pointed it out.
     I've always had this hyper-sexual, confident, opinionated persona. In the last month or so the facade has worn down. I'm still confident, I just don't need to be the center of attention anymore. I'm still funny, just a bit more reserved. I might even be more approachable now. Maybe. I'm not entirely sure. I'm not going out very often, and even when I am I'm with friends.
     I think I'm finally starting to grow up. I recognize that I'm still a bit crazy, but I'm not obsessive or self-destructive. I'm like a real person. It's not fantastic, but it's not not fantastic either. It's just life.

Na Na Na Batman!

I made a card. And a t-shirt.

Movies are Bullshit

     In movies love is easy. Well, it isn't, but it makes sense there. Mistakes can be fixed. The love of your life comes back. Hell, you have a love of your life to begin with.
     It always starts out perfect and then there's a problem: distance, break-ups, illness, another person, doesn't really matter. There's always a problem. The solution is usually ridiculously silly. The problem here is that movies teach you that your true love will always come back if you make the right speech. If you say how you truly feel, all will be perfect. You'll move in together, or get married, or whatever the goal was. Then you'll live happily ever after.
     This is reality. The speech doesn't fix anything. It just leaves you feeling pathetic and empty. There's a reason you broke up. There might be someone else, maybe one can't stand the other anymore, what does it matter the why? You aren't together and trying to force things is a waste of time.
     As much as I love chick flicks and fairy tales, we live in a world with divorce, and death, and single mothers. Couples break-up every day. There is no "meant to be" and some people will end up alone. The trick is to move on.

Why don't my relationships ever work?

     I'm finally coming out and saying it. I suck at being a girlfriend. You know what, I'm happier single, but sometimes something misfires in my brain and I decide I want something more. Then I'm miserable and I proceed to fuck up whatever it is that I'm involved in. It's never pretty. To be fair though, I pick out guys for all the wrong reasons.
     Most recently, I was seeing this guy that's kind of part of my friend group. I wasn't really interested, he was just bangable. We had a one night stand last summer and haven't really spoken since. Well, we all went to the bar and he ended up coming home with me. The next morning, one of the roommates forbids him from ever coming over again. I guess they knew each other. Anyways, I'm a dick, so I proceed to start bringing him over all the time. Eventually, he starts asking if he can go out with the guys on Friday night. When did this stop being a fling?! Anyways, I pick a fight with him, lay on a guilt trip, and now he hasn't spoken to me in a week. It's a shame, the sex was pretty good.
     I don't know if this one really counts. I let this guy take me on dates. He would text me every day, he bought me books and CD's. I'm not really a flowers kind of person. I never slept with him. I straight up told him that I would never sleep with him. He really is a nice guy, but I'm just too shallow for him. I hate saying that, but his hair is thinning, he has awful mutton chops, and he wears ridiculous screen-printed, button-up shirts. I'm an awful person. I let him take me out for like 6 months. And I quite frequently would tell him when I had one night stands. There was actually one point where I got another guys number while we were out for karaoke. I finally just told him I was seeing someone so I could clear my conscience.
     Now we get to the one I've been hung up on since September. He's awful. He understands that I'm awful. He calls me when he's bored, even though we aren't even sleeping together anymore. His current girlfriend was getting suspicious, so we kind of had to quit. What can I say? We get each other. That's precisely why we would never work out. It's funny though, when we dated, I made him wait a couple weeks before I put out. I don't know who I was trying to be, but it makes me smile looking back. I've talked about him before, usually drunk posts, so you should know that we work together. I got a promotion and switched departments. A month later, that asshole got the same promotion. I'm back to seeing him everyday at work.
     Thinking back on all the relationships I've ever had, I think I had one that could've worked. He was fine with my promiscuity, as long as I told him about it and always came home to him afterwards. Silly me, I finally took him up on that. I flipped shit when he didn't care. I'm telling you, my brain seriously likes to misfire sometimes. I ended up slapping him in the face and breaking up with him on the spot. I was also a little drunk. I think I liked that one better as a fuck buddy as well.
     My point here was that relationships are awful and you shouldn't do them. Okay, maybe not you. I shouldn't do them.

You're Doing It Wrong!

     I enjoy the person I am. Sometimes I lose sight of that. Guess what? I'm fucking back, and the extent of my scandalous behavior knows no bounds. I don't know exactly happened. That last idiot I was with made me want to be a good person. Boring! So, let's just take a step back and see where I screwed up.
     Monogamous relationships are boring. Shit, relationships in general are boring. Yeah, getting all snuggly with a movie is nice. Who says you can't do that with a one night stand? It's super-comfortable, and you can still kick them out in the morning.
     The thing about flings is the sex drive. I can't remember the last boyfriend I had that woke me up several times throughout the night to get it on. Not that it doesn't happen, it's just something about knowing there's an imminent end on the way sky rockets libido. Also, with the "just tonight" mentality, I've found guys are more adventurous.
     Picking up guys is an art. Okay, not really, but it should be. You have to be flirty enough where they think they have a chance, but not so slutty that they won't get you things. It also helps to act a little dumb. Honestly, the easiest way to pick someone up is with a wingman. Other guys make the best wingmen, especially when they're interested in you themselves. They unintentionally talk you up in front of everyone. Mind you, everyone can tell they've been friendzoned, except for them. That's really half the fun. So, that cute guy making eyes at you from the pool table? Go play pool. So what if you suck at pool and never plan on calling him. It's just a gesture. Plus, making plans to bang this guy and making sure the guy in the friendzone doesn't see you doing it is...well, it's terribly thrilling.
     As for that stupid face I was seeing, it occurred to me that I can still be a good person and see other people. Hell, I could continue seeing him and it still wouldn't matter. Sex doesn't define you. I could take home a different guy every other day and no one would bat an eye.
     All in all, I'm just trying to say it's my god damned personal life. I like fucking. I like my decisions. If you don't, fuck you. You've got your own life to make miserable with your high morality.

Poetry?

     I don't get poetry. There are so many other ways to express yourself. I like haiku, but mostly because I can't write anything serious. I mean, what's the point of making things rhyme or giving your thoughts strange formats? I know 10 years ago I couldn't get enough of the stuff. I was also an obnoxious and angsty teenager. I always have ideas for poems or I'll think of a single line that I'll fall in love with. It never progresses from there. I'd much rather have pages of thoughts that I can be more exact with. I've grown a certain distaste for ambiguity and cryptic messages in my wordplay. Although this could just be my lack of talent speaking.

To be continued...

     So, I keep starting posts, but then deciding against it because there's no real content. So I figured 3 beginnings is almost a full piece. I know, I'm a horrible slacker.

1.
     I miss you. Feelings are stupid things. From a logical perspective, you're a jerk and I should harbor nothing but contempt for your mere existence. Unfortunately, I forget what logic even is when I think about you. Is that what love is?

2.
     Every group has one. You all know "that guy." That self-centered, skirt-chasing, over-bearing douchebag. In my group, that's me.

3.
     I sometimes forget that I can be fierce. Not necessarily in a crazy way, just that I am strong-willed and can have a civil conversation where my victory is the only option. I don't know why I let myself be painted into corners. I just know that I'm on top of the universe right now. It's been over 24 hours and the feeling remains. I'm hoping there's a way to keep this feeling without being overly confrontational all the time. Although, would that really be so bad?

     I had ideas to turn these into complete thoughts. I still have anecdotes, thoughts on robots, and dick jokes. Just no way of working it 'til I'm content. Yay for half-assing a piece!

What is love?

It's magenta.
It's hot and cold at the same time.
It's goosebumps triggered by a single thought.
It's conversations without purpose.
It's ridiculous facial expressions.
It's inside jokes.
It's showers so long the water turns to ice.
It's butterflies that last for days.
It's not taking poetry seriously.
It's noticing the little changes.
It's appreciation in every form.
It's silly haircuts you dream about.
It's art.
It's passion.
It's absolutely perfect without being anything at all.

It's how my heart breaks every time he goes.

Different than Initially Imagined

Funny thing about memories, they always seem to come by most inconveniently unannounced. Usually they're more than welcome, but sometimes you just have to ask them to leave. Rude things they are, too, with the whole never leaving thing. Even when you have your foot in their ass and you're quite literally kicking them out the door, they still remain quite attached to either sides of the frame. Then again, on the other hand, you have fleeting memories. These ones never stick around or even attempt to make themselves at home. You'll wake up to them in the morning, but if you close your eyes again, even for a second, they're long gone before you've had a chance to make breakfast. While you dream about them, they're often bittersweet dreams. They're also the ones that make you smile when they randomly pop up throughout the day. They're the ones you miss. Even though sometimes they can make you crazy, it's a good crazy.

Maybe I'm just feeling nostalgic today.

Love Hurts

     "The opposite of love is not hate, it's indifference." Elie Wiesel said it the most brilliantly. I usually put it in a more brazen manner, "That asshole won't pay attention to me!" This is usually accompanied by drunken sobs. I'm sure I've gone on about how much break ups suck and also how badly I deal with them. Here we go again.
     Obviously, drinking is not the answer. Drinking leads to calling people at 2 in the morning. I know this mostly stems from my lack of self control. Sometimes that leads to hooking up. Other times, I play drunken confessions and I tell the guy how much I love him, even though he just dumped me. There's where we get the indifference. I just poured out my heart and he just walks away. So then I end up drinking more. Vicious cycle.
     Do not fuck your ex! It's bad enough you just told him you loved him. Casual sex does not turn into love, no matter how often he stays over or tells you how beautiful you look in the mornings. He skips work to fuck. It's nothing more. He knows how you feel, so he knows you won't say no. He's just horny. Look, I know he's a fantastic lay, but there are other fantastic lovers out there. I'm not saying go pick up some strange, but really, have some self respect and quit letting him walk all over you.
     The obsessive behavior has got to stop. You can't plan a future with someone who doesn't care. So, he takes you out to eat and randomly talks to you about his dreams. So what? He dumped you. He doesn't want to be your boyfriend, much less have the white picket fence and grandkids together. Why does he get jealous of your guy friends? Doesn't matter. Quit talking to him and move on. Then again, there was some PDA going on while we were out shopping together the other day. That's totally a sign, right?
     Shit, I think I just entered psychopath territory. I'm pretty sure I said I was bad at this. I don't necessarily need an on-and-off boyfriend, so maybe it's good that he ignores me for days at a time.

Drunk Brains Don't Understand Formatting Rules

I know it's been a minute, and everyone's dying to hear my thoughts. I kinda-sorta got a job and it takes up most of my time. I also work with my ex. Terrible life decisions, I know. Anyways, I may be a little drunk right now, so I figured it'd be a great time to update! Sex is not love. I don't care who you are, it just doesn't happen like that. I keep trying to convince myself otherwise, but when a guy makes you scream it really doesn't mean anything. It really doesn't help that I work with the ex. Or that I may be in love with him. Or that the sex is amazing. Can I say "or" anymore? It's been established that I like fucking and it doesn't matter that the booty is phenomenal. Or that I'm in love with the ex. Or that even though I said, "Sex isn't love," my brain still thinks it is ... This is probably the wrong place to be posting this.