I’m not a fan of the drawing board. Or square one. I don’t like going back to these places, though it seems they are my permanent residences when it comes to love and dating.
I haven’t heard from TK the DJ since our little adventure to Asheville a week ago. I mean I sent him a couple of messages and he replied, but other than that, there has been no real contact. I thought for sure he would want to hang out more. Because I know I did. And I want to be one of those girls who is confident enough to send a message like, “hey, when are we going out?” or “hey, when can I see you again,” but I don’t because I, for some reason, have this huge unnatural fear of rejection. I have no idea why he would reject that idea, but in my mind, because he hasn’t already messaged me, I think I’ve already been rejected.
It doesn’t matter that he is probably ridiculously busy and that if I hadn’t decided to go on that little adventure with him, chances are we may still not have met. I can come up with a million reasons why he hasn’t messaged me that have everything to do with me and nothing to do with reality.
And it’s crazy because I only get weird like this with people who I’m kind of intimidated by and who I really like. And I am with him, because he has his shit all together or seems to, not that anyone really does, and he knows what he wants out of life and he’s a go getter and he’s just pretty much an all around amazing guy. When I’m dealing with guys that don’t have their shit together and guys that I know for a fact are not future material, I never get nervous or doubt myself or overthink things. I just go with it. But he was sweet, and smart, and funny, and handsome. He was all the things I want but apparently deep down don’t think I deserve. And I always have this issue.
I think it’s why I’m single, because when I think about what I actually want, which is a nice, decent, funny, amazing, sweet, caring, loyal man who basically worships the ground I walk on (just kidding), I feel like I don’t deserve to have that. So I keep settling for people who just want me around when it’s convenient for them or when it’s convenient for me and there’s nothing amazing about any of it. Everything is just mediocre and even though I know deep down there is someone in this world who won’t care that I have three kids by three different dads and that fuck is my favorite word and I go to bed with dishes in the sink and I can’t eat off a fork with crooked teeth and that sometimes I have major anxiety and fake it until it passes and all the other crazy quirks about me, I feel like I will never find him.
And the older I get, the more mistakes I’m going to make so he really needs to hurry up and find me. He’s probably been hit by a bus. Or he’s laying in a coma somewhere and I’m going to have to wait until my next life to get a chance at true love because I’ve fucked this one up so badly by doing whatever it is the universe, or God, or Buddha, has decided to call fucking up. Maybe I need to start doing better because if I don’t I might not even get to come back as an awesome human being. I’ll end up coming back as someone’s dog. Or as a pig and ironically, because I’m a vegetarian, end up on my soul mate’s plate as a pound of bacon and then it will start all over again until the next life and the next one. I don’t know how Buddhists do it. So much pressure to come back better than before. I can’t even manage making myself better today than yesterday. Ok, that might be a bold faced lie. Maybe I’m better today than I was yesterday. I’m at least better rested. That should count for something, right?
Nevertheless, maybe I need a therapist. Or a magician who makes me see myself like everyone else sees me. Or maybe, just maybe, I really should stop looking like everyone suggests and just keep on a livin and when the time is right, “he” will be standing in front of me and I will have no doubt that it is him. And if the stars are aligned, maybe that will happen before I am a slab of bacon.
RouletteWeekend 