A couple posts ago, I acknowledged the fact that sometimes (most of the time) I trade pussy for affection. That was written a couple of weeks ago, and the lonely spell has recently taken another dip. Can you blame me? My last relationship ended 14 months ago, and I'm human. Even the Bible says that "it is not good for man to be alone," (Genesis 2:18) (that's about the only Bible verse I know by heart...I actually got it wrong and had to Google it). I've been doing well on this single journey. I have learned a lot about myself and I have established some amazing friendships, but the kid is getting lonely. And when I'm not having sex to distract myself, I get to thinking about the Ex.
It's always uncomfortable discussing an ex, because the men in your future want to be sure that you're over him. They're afraid to be compared to him and if anything goes wrong then its his fault. I'm always afraid of being called bitter, that's like being called a witch in post-colonial Salem Massachusetts. It is a most powerful accusation, but no proving otherwise. The reality of the matter is that my ex-boyfriend does exist. He was my stinking first love. The relationship taught me a lot, and it also scared me out of seriously dating for over a year.
The ex the ex the ex. Do I really miss the ex, or do am I thinking about him because he's the most available thing right now? I'm leaning towards the availability factor. He says he misses me all the time. I know I miss him too, in theory. From the distance that a text message allows, I crave to spend a moment in his arms. Until I get to recalling last time I saw him and how immediately pissed I was. I missed him for a good 10 minutes, but soon after I wanted to castrate him and toss is testes under a lawnmower.
If I cannot conjure the anger that keeps me from running back, I usually text my three girlfriends. Each witnessed my relationship saga at some point and are privy to the madness that I endured. I text them and each responds with something that kicks my memory in motion. I clench my teeth against the residual anger and practically throw my phone down. It plops on the pillow of the cold and empty side of my mattress, a sound that mocks my loneliness.
Most times I don't allow myself to listen to love songs: I'm on a strict diet of rap, alternative, and techno at the moment to take the edge off. I reward myself with tastes of Anthony Hamilton and Maxwell when I'm feeling particularly strong. One album that I still to this day can not listen to is Usher's Here I Stand. It was our favorite. We drove to visit our family in New York and Boston for Thanksgiving and we listened to that album most of the way.
I realize that college life makes single life more difficult, which is probably why so much sexing is going on. I left an immensely huge family back in Boston: siblings like best friends and cousins like siblings. Back home I had little desire to date boys. Loneliness was cured by hours at my aunts' houses, or hanging with my cousins. If I were back home I'd actually spend more time taking care of my brothers, babysitting nieces and nephews, and getting bullied by cousins not much older than me. I think I've managed to replicate that family dynamic by frequently having my friends over for dinner, though that shit gets expensive. I especially like playing matchmaker. I try to invite new people each time, and I let my closer friends make requests on who I should invite.
My best friend says that I need to start dating more, but I honestly hate dating. I don't think I'm good at it. How do I know what men want to date me and which just want my lady space? Having put my sexy out all over this blog, I'm afraid that the only guys who have maintained interest in me will begrudge me a dinner and a movie before I am expected to deliver the pussy. Some have been appalled my audacity to even consider such. I am now a dating pariah, or is it really this difficult to find a guy. There are men everywhere, how hard is it to find one I like? Should I be actively looking, because at this point I was expecting him to fall through the sky, knock on my door, or sit behind me in a class.
I don't even want a full on boyfriend. I'm not ready for the full commitment. I just want chill ass homie who speaks my language: private, intimate, relaxed, giving, caring, blah blah blah. You know, all that good stuff without the extravagant drama. Well, I will continue to meet people, have dinner parties, and love my fucking life.