Dateless For The First Time In 10 Years
I am truly single for the first time since I was 14. I’m 24. That’s 10 years of boyfriends and dates and “talking to” people. I am tired, and quite frankly, I can’t even figure out why I’m a serial dater, other than the fact that I’m a stereotypical, romantic Pisces. I love “love” and will squeeze it out of a stone if I have to. But right now, I’m trying to save myself…from myself.
I spent most of middle school with a crush on some ashy-kneed boy or another. I smile thinking about how embarrassed I would be at the thought of any of them knowing. It was the worst. Wishing and hoping and knowing that I’d be tongue-tied and pitiful if they actually found out that I spent most of class time furtively peeking in their direction, staring for a whole three seconds on days that I was feeling reckless.
My first “real” boyfriend was mostly of the telephone-variety. We’d spend hours on my parents’ landline, usually with me dashing to answer the phone mid-ring, so they wouldn’t realize that I was receiving calls after 10 p.m., one of the few old-school rules my laid back parents insisted upon.
I “went out” with him for about a year and a half. And since then, the longest time that I’ve truly been single, with no prospects on the horizon, was a grand total of three weeks.
That’s not to say that I’m so mesmerizing that I just can’t manage to stay single. I just kept stumbling into relationships, unable to find a reason not to go out with someone that was “nice” to me, even if I wasn’t attracted to them in the least. Out of the many names on my list of formers, I had actual feelings for probably half of them. That’s not to say that the others weren’t attractive, good people. That’s just to say that they were – to borrow a hand-me-down word my friend got from her bestie – “lettuce”. Bland, and generally unnecessary, at least, when it came to me.
I feel horrible saying that, but right now, when I’ve just ended the most serious relationship that I’ve had to date, I have to remember that. Not to use someone else’s attentions and affections to forget about the uncertainty I feel, just having broken up with someone I was so sure about. For so long, it had seemed inevitable that I would be with him, conversation never grew stagnant, most arguments ended neatly with both of us apologizing, meaning it and vowing to do better.
I won’t go into details here, because he’d be furious, but this was the most amicable split I’ve ever gone through. The cause was a combination of poor timing, outside forces and unfortunate situations that make it better to surrender to the inevitable rather than force it to work, and wind up hating each other in the end.
He’s my best friend and I hope more than anything that one day, I’ll be able to speak to him without my voice cracking, but right now, I have a choice to make. I can do what Twitter tells us and focus on me. Figure out what I want and need. Focus on becoming the woman I want to be.
But it’s springtime, and I have minimal willpower. Ugh.
