I think I finally figured out my damn problem when it comes to men and my commitment-ish issues. I find myself gravitating toward questionable men romantically. I always have. Sometimes I just imagine I’m laying in a bubble bath with a spare bottle of wine and my thoughts, trying to psychoanalyze myself. In reality, I’m already drunk and have fallen and slipped on the wet grass in the rain. Either way, the river of issues apparently runs deep. The poet says that I like my men institutionalized. Either, fresh out of prison or fresh out of the military. Either one works. I laugh when he says it (because he says it alot), but there is probably some truth in it. If I had to guess the reason, it would be because I lack any sort of routine or structure in my life. Like, none. I basically do what I want when I want. I used to have some structure and I’m attempting to get back at some structure, but I am not sure that walking the dogs every morning and cooking dinner every night amounts to the kind of structure that I gravitate towards.
I find that what I want in my life and what I actually let in my life are two totally and utterly completely fucking different things though. I want substance. I settle for shallow. I want belly laughs. I settle for chuckles (and usually at my own jokes). I want great sex. I settle for…. well, actually, I can’t even complain here. I have really been on a streak of great sex lately. So I guess I have to skip that one. I want intelligent conversation. I settle for any conversation. I want someone to hold me all night. I settle for someone to hold me in the moment. I’ve accepted the difference between the two and I don’t dwell on any of it too often, mostly because there really is no point. And also because I know when I’m meant to find that thing I have been looking for, it will be there, staring me in the face, bright eyed, smiling with arms wide open. It’s just this fucking clock. It just keeps on ticking. This is the awesome thing about being an undecidedly confused human. What you want today may not be what you want tomorrow. And on and on. And it’s ok. Because life is ever changing. People are ever changing.
Speaking of people and life. I would like to clarify the age old question that was asked to me today. “Why do some women sleep with some men quickly and make others wait?” I was thinking about saving this question for tomorrow’s Ask Roulette but I think it’s going to require a little more effort and a little less humor. I can’t speak for everyone, but I can speak for myself when I say that there have been times where I meet someone and I do hold out for sex. I’ve even gone so far as to hang out with the one I’m not sleeping with and still sleep with some ole Joe Schmoe in the meantime. To guys, it makes no sense. To me, in my twisted and warped head, it makes all the sense in the world. I, for the most part, don’t give two shits what people think. Until I meet someone who I like more than usual. I think there’s a window of opportunity to have sex. It’s a small window. Like… let’s have sex immediately while we are both still meaningless to each other and take the pressure off things or it goes completely the other way, we hang out and get to know each other and then every insecurity I’ve ever carried around in my whole life surfaces with each passing day and each increased emotion and before I know it, I’m making bulleted lists of all the things about me that are unlovable and unworthy, and convincing myself that I am not good enough for the one who I wanted to get to know because I liked him more than usual. It’s especially true when I think of the other bulleted list I have of what kind of person I’d make a permanent fixture in my life. If I meet someone meeting 65% or more of that criteria, I might as well throw in the towel. I will come up with a million and one reasons to not get any closer, because what really happens in the world if you meet someone who you get along with fabulously, someone you can talk to and admire at the same time, someone who can hold a conversation about more than a television show, someone who makes you laugh, someone who is peddling in fast forward to their goals, someone who fits the mold of the perfect human for you? What happens when you run into that person?
What I think happens is every fear you’ve ever kicked around your head like a hackey sack comes to a complete halt. And then you realize if this person is the one, life as you know it comes to a complete halt. And then your mind starts wandering to a place you haven’t let it go in years because you’ve been content in your aloneness. And then, finally, you break down and nervously have sex. And you realize that it’s good too and it plants more doubt and more questions. And then you’re up at midnight wishing you could go back to the time yesterday or a week ago when you could crawl into your bed alone and not lay there wishing there was someone next to you rubbing your arms and playing with your hair and holding you until you fall asleep. And then you realize you were right, life as you know it will end if you like them even a fraction too much. Or worse, if they like you a fraction too little and you will beat yourself up wondering what it is about you that was the deal breaker on THEIR list. So you decide that you will just go with the flow and forget you have a brain and pretend like that spot in the middle of your chest is still cold and dead. Because that’s easier than every single fake scenario you’ve imagined in that beautifully creative head of yours. And then you walk away from what could have been or you push it away or you just let it melt like an ice cube on the hot pavement and then cry because it might have been the last sip of fresh water you’ll ever get a chance at.