I realize I’m like the blogging version of Taylor Swift, but guys give us a lot of material to work with because of the endless new ways they figure out how to screw girls over. It is, of course, ultimately our fault for continuing to open up to guys even after we swear up and down we won’t…but what are we gonna do? Hug trees?
Eeh, I’ll pass.
If 2012 isn’t the year of the world-ending apocalypse, it should be famously known as the year my love life ended. Not that there hasn’t been a variety of guys I’ve wasted my time with, but that’s just what it was — a waste of time. The equation to my singledom has been discovered as:
Step 1: Guy sees girl and initiates conversation
Step 2: Girl responds and continues conversation
Step 3: Guy and girl hang out multiple times
Step 4: Guy inexplicably runs away
Step 5: Cross multiply to find the value of x.
There are a few outlying variables to this problem. First off, I’m not even certain that I, myself, want to be in a relationship so there hasn’t been any persistence on my part to meet the family or look at engagement rings or even ask if we’re exclusive. Guys seems to think that when they get the slightest bit of undivided attention from a girl, she wants to get married. And yes, the popularity of pinterest wedding boards has probably perpetuated a stereotype that all girls wanna do is find prince charming and get married. And so what? Maybe I do. But who the fuck gave you an idea that I regarded you as anything close to my prince charming?
But just as any other relationship and/or friendship doesn’t work out, we get over it. Especially since, in my situation, I’ve really only hung out with these guys for a few weeks. And I get it, I’m a total freak. I have a weird sense of humor, I have questionable taste in music, I’m stubborn…like, fine. I can deal with the fact that I wasn’t really what you were looking for, either; however, maybe you should have been smart enough to size me up in the beginning. I never change. I am exactly who I am the first time we talk as I am the last. My personality, while it may be unbearable, is consistently unbearable.
Anyway, so after each miserable failure, I do what any frustrated girl would do — insincerely vow to never speak to men again. But then when I obviously do meet someone new, I adjust myself. What did I do last time that could have scared some guy off? Okay, this time I won’t talk about women’s suffrage. And I keep doing that until, by process of elimination, I should eventually not scare a guy off. And then I realized that it’s not necessarily the topics I’m discussing or the things I’m doing or the fact that I drool in my sleep; it’s that somehow, somewhere, at some point, the dude works up some giantly preposterous idea that I want a relationship with him. Maybe it’s because I don’t volunteer the information that I’m also seeing other guys or maybe I’m just that good at balancing my time with these guys that I seem to be giving them my undying attention. Either way, it is absurd that guys are so spooked by this notion that they themselves have completely fabricated.
Okay, so they like to do this “drop off the face of the universe” magic trick because it’s subtle and adult like and not rude at all. Oh noo wait, it’s the actions of a small child whose balls haven’t fully descended yet. Why don’t we try this — use your words. At this point in time, you’re fully capable of forming complete and coherent sentences or our relationship– or ship, I guess….whichever is less scawy– would have never progressed beyond the first conversation.
I think we can all agree that once you’ve established that you are, in fact, hanging out with someone and making plans with them, you don’t have to wait for the guy to contact you. I’m not saying we should be overwhelming, but if I have a thought or question, do I have to wait every time for the guy to be the first to say something? Once in a while, I think we can make some allowances. So if you’ve all of the sudden let your imagination run rampant and you decide “uh, I really don’t want to hang out with this person anymore” and they text you to hang out, just say no. Why go through the trouble of sending excuses and prolonging the inevitable? Is it that terrifying to just say “I’m sorry I think we’re on different pages and I don’t want to lead you on or waste your time”? Now you’ve managed to be mature about it. You’re still a giant pussy, but no matter what you do that’s probably inescapable.
I think my favorite part about the rejection is how unwarranted it is. “I just think you’re moving too fast” , “I’m really not ready for a relationship.” Well forgive me for forcing you to introduce yourself to me and take me on a date. I’m sorry that I didn’t know you existed until you made your presence known and inserted yourself into my life. Also, while you’re contemplating whether you’ve banged enough girls to properly prepare you to deal with the idea of just one for a while, I’ve been keeping my options open and seeing other guys so you can relax, bro. Conversely, if a guy told me he did not want me seeing other guys and therein lies the problem, it’s as easy as me not seeing other guys. I can manage to break things off without a paralyzing fear.
The point is, these things are just excuses. I don’t care if you’re “ready to be in relationship” or not– if you like someone, you wouldn’t care if you were in a relationship or a concentration camp. So spare me. The truth really is more like “I think your personality sucks” , “I met someone hotter than you” , “you’re way too dumb” , “I’d be embarrassed to bring you around my family.” —- any number of those things are the actual reasons why they’ve lost interest. But they wanna somehow pin it on something we’ve done wrong and ignore their own shortcomings. Yeah, we noticed yours, too. Like, I’m sorry that my list of the perfect man didn’t include a receding hairline but I was willing to overlook that because you bought me food and told me I was pretty.
So, I’m over being aggressively pursued and then being blatantly blown off. Next time a guy approaches me I’m going to kick him in his knee and spit in his eye. Here’s to being a crazy cat lady in the future.