It has been a hot minute since my last post, for that I truly apologize. The only reason I can give for this is one of my most prominent character defects: unbridled laziness.
Since we last left our heroes, I have spent some time with California after my sister had yet another relapse in her fight against drug and alcohol addiction. But this post isn't about her sojourn, yet again, into the dark waters of rehab. This post is about how I am, as one of my friend's dad puts it: crazy as a boiled shitcake.
After terminating the interaction with the previous gentleman, I promptly started talking to another, whom I met on Grindr. We had an excellent date, followed by another excellent date and numerous text messages. After those two dates, I went off to Cali to hang with mom and dad, where I personally did all in my power to stimulate the American economy by restoring consumer confidence by purchasing a new man bag, J-Brand Jeans and the new iPhone 4. But I digress.
Things were going great with this gentleman and we have had a total of four dates total. He, after our second date, mentioned that he was partial to only dating one person at a time. While this was a foreign concept to me, my thought process behind agreeing before we had even taken the lid of the cookie jar, so to speak, was that one only test drives one car at a time, so perhaps I could only 'test-drive' one man at a time.
Things continued on a true and steady course, until they didn't. I have a feeling that this gentleman has suddenly lost interest in me. Thus we arrive at the title of our post: there are some crazy ladies in my head and I am at the end of my rope, yet again.
It continues to baffle me that men profess to have interest in me, yet after a period of time, they lose it. Why? And more importantly, why does my self-worth seem so irrevocably tied to someone having romantic interest in me?! It seems as though Joan and Scarlett are winning right now with the independent minded Auntie Mamie being shoved aside, probably with a wire hanger. I don't quite understand it. Admittedly I could stand to lose some weight and firm up the old body, but by-and-large, I'm alright. I'm young, have a good job, a good education from an elite school, speak three languages and have a great smile. So, riddle me this, fearless readers: WTF?!?! I am at a total loss for words. It seems that perhaps I am in the throws of a wretched quarter life crisis. Perhaps it is time to regain control of my life and do something. What? I don't know. Perhaps all this craziness is in my head and that nothing is wrong. But my main concern here is this: why, when a boy loses interest in me, does it take so long for me to pick myself up and dust myself off and move on? Clearly something is wrong. I am contemplating completely shutting down and isolating for a while. Perhaps it is time for a renovation of myself; an overhaul to see what is wrong with me and start to trudge the happy road of destiny to self completion. Thus we stand this sunny and ridiculously warm first day of Autumn.
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