I promise, I’ll get back to being funny really soon. But I just have to unload some shit first. Bear with me. I am a girl, after all.
I’m a weirdo. I’ve never seen A Christmas Story. I’d much rather read a book than watch TV. I’m a classically trained opera singer who’d sooner be swilling bourbon and screaming the blues than be twittering away onstage at The Met.
I don’t know how to date. I have no fucking idea what to do. I did the whole laid-back, chill, be with someone for the company and hope it turns into the love of your life thing, and I ended it because it didn’t. That was the longest relationship of my life, by a LONG SHOT, and it never made it past the knock-on-the-door-when-you-come-over stage. I chose to be alone rather than be taken and unfulfilled.
And here I am, on my first Friday night as a single woman in nine months, sitting in front of a computer screen.
Why, you ask?
Because I’m terrified.
I have no idea what to do. I don’t even know where to begin. I always freak guys out because I’m so ballsy and straight-forward, and I don’t really do the “play up to their egos” thing. I mean, what the fuck is that, really? Men have treated me like shit most of my life, and while I don’t play the victim anymore, I’m not about to act all submissive and fragile just so they’re not scared of me. I have a HUGE personality, and I pretty much steamroll most people I meet without ever intending to do so. I’m strong and I’m smart and I’m funny and a lot of people can’t keep up with me. A lot of people just don’t GET me, and they certainly can’t begin to HANDLE me.
But goddammit, I’m scared.
What if the next 15 years of dating end up like the previous 15 years, if not worse? What if I fall right back into the old pattern of unrequited yearning for men who adore me as a friend, but just don’t see me as their “type?” What if I’m (gulp) alone for the rest of my life because I just don’t know how to go about this dating thing?!?!?
What if staying with someone who isn’t right for you really IS better than being alone?
What if all this fucking crying never stops, and I grow old and tired and bitter?
Goddamn. I need a drink.
More than that, I need to be screeching my lungs out into a microphone because that’s how I need to get this shit out of my system. I’m a musician, and I haven’t touched my piano in at least 6 months. I haven’t wanted to play.
And I don’t want to play this stupid dating game, either. I just don’t understand it.