Wednesday, May 12, 2010

Shitty Transformer - Asshole in Disguise

Here's something I wrote in November of last year. I figure it's safe to post it now. I've already burned most of these bridges at any rate. Enjoy.

You know, I was sitting in the food court at the Roosevelt Field Mall, finishing up my shrimp teriyaki, and it dawned on me that I really am an asshole. If Sammi really is using me for her new standard for guys, her standard is that of an asshole-in-denial, which admittedly, is far worse than your everyday, run-of-the-mill, fully out loud and proud, you-know-what-you're-getting-yourself-into-with-this-guy asshole. An asshole in sheep's clothing is capable of inflicting much more damage, because nobody sees it coming. I mean, on that third date with Stacy, I tell her "…on paper, you're perfect…" and sip my water awkwardly as she gets up and runs out so nobody can see her crying in a crowded Ukrainian restaurant, leaving me full of pierogies and remorse. Who does that? Someone who is clearly an asshole.

Also, while in denial about being an asshole, I managed to break up with my last girlfriend accidentally via text message (involuntary text-slaughter) - quite possibly the most egregious offense one can commit whilst in a committed relationship in the non-adulterous department. The only thing worse in this category is to actually murder your significant other (by accident). It doesn't matter that I didn't want to break up with her in a text message. It still happened. It was kind of bloody that way. It was like a bungled mob hit. I shouldn't have even been dating her. I was never truly attracted to her physically. I just figured that maybe if she was that cool, I would just magically overcome the other obstacles. But chemistry doesn't work that way for a guy. From what I understand, a woman can grow to love a man, but a man is either hot for you or not. There's no middle ground. This would go a long way in explaining why the best sex we ever had was when I was what should have been too drunk to fuck or when I was ill to the point of almost being dead. At those times, my body had been running purely on alcohol and preservation instinct.

So, in my mind I was trying to do a good thing. When we started dating, she said she was surprised, because she didn't think that she was my type. I had an out right there, but was too stupid to use it. I really thought that this would mean I was shallow, and I have spent my whole adult life trying to not be shallow. So instead, I dive into this thing, even though i knew what would happen, and then I drag it out and wait until I am literally repulsed by her touch to realize that this is a real problem and that I need to call the whole thing off. The non-asshole method would have involved telling her upfront "Look, I haven't had sex in over two years, and you seem like the most viable candidate, but I'm not looking for anything too serious" and left it at that.

That's not what I did. Nope. Instead, I make these grand gestures and deny my true nature, until I stress myself out, get hives, hide from her for a week, and then when confronted, say nothing, and wind up breaking up with her via text message, even though I was trying to wait to do it in person. Seriously, I am such an asshole, don't you think? I mean, being a serial monogamist doesn't preclude you from assholedom. In fact, it may even encourage activity of an assholish variety.

Take the time, for example, that I broke up with someone because she was a virgin (she was 19), and I had decided after the last two women I dated who had been virgins that I didn't want to go down that road again. I mean, there's a big difference between a 19 year old virgin and someone who is a virgin at 24. I said that I was still not over my ex (which was not untrue), but I never fessed up to the whole virgin angle. And that was some time AFTER I had waited until receiving a blowie to tell her about the death of an iconic figure in rock 'n' roll that she actually knew in person! And the hits just keep on coming!

And I wonder why I'm single?

Monday, May 10, 2010

Suddenly, Last Summer

I was thinking that I need to update this blog more, because I can't just spend all my blogging mojo on my newish endeavor of "Ok Cupid Letters That Never Got Responses" when there's so much more to say (or so I would like to think: but let's face it; having been unemployed for almost a year, my life hasn't been all that exciting, save for the people I've met and hung out with at shows, but I've spent way too much time alone and in my own head, and I won't lie, dear readers, 'tis a scary place to reside full-time).

Nevertheless, I was gonna troll around my notebooks for something I never typed out, but as luck would have it, I found this instead. I wrote it in July of last year when I was dealing with some heavy changes, none of them very good. Luckily, nobody died, but there has been some fallout. Life is messy, but chances must be taken. However, some truths are hard to tell someone to their face.


Bugbites lined up like track marks on my arms and stomach as I grapple with my sanity and a weird heat rash on my abdomen. Are they bedbugs? Mosquitoes? Spiders? Other? I am up past dawn, freaking out frequently. I am anxious about the possibility of infestation and the impossibility of us. I love her, but I am not in love with her. She is everything, almost, that I am looking for, including that look that I always said I wanted someone to look at me like. But when I look back at her looking at me like that, it's hollow, empty. I'm a shell staring into the abyss - I don't feel as much as I want to, as much as I should. I should want to be with her every minute she is not here, instead of wishing on a disappearing beer.

Here I sit, i am debating testing the "nothing good happens after 2am" postulate. But instead, I am trying to sort out my thoughts so I know what to tell her that won't destroy her. I don't like confrontation and pain. When you get involved with someone you're friends with, there is the debate "oh but what if it doesn't work out?" versus "Well, what if it does?" - and I'm always saying "well, I'd rather take the chance than regret it the rest of my life." So naturally, I try it and it bites me in the ass.

She told me that she didn't think she was my type and so when I said I liked her, she got too excited. I have a high opinion of myself and like to think that I am not beholden by looks or body type. I was trying to cast against type, as it were, but once again, it just makes me uncomfortable and repulsed. I liked her so much that I wanted her to be my type, but you can't control who you are attracted to.