I am allowed to be upset that the latest prospect didn’t work out.  This one had a good job with ambition and was creative and smart and easy to talk to and funny and some unique health stuff we had in common.  He was interesting and flawed.  He lived nearby.   He was tall so I could wear my normal shoes.  Not to be mean, but I am 5’3 and if I wear 2.5 inch heels, I don’t want to emasculate someone.  As expected, I screwed it up.

Here’s a synopsis of my obnoxious behavior.  And remember, I hadn’t eaten, I was PTSDing, and super nervous.  I only had one more drink than my usual but empty stomach is not a good way to start.

I told him if he sticks around things would get really good.  True statement.  Once I get through my initial “safety” period where I have dropped enough stuff and feel safe that it won’t get worse than my past sins, I am good to go.  No more drama or confessions after that.  I was so close.

Sex was on the table but not that night because it wasn’t something where I wanted to be drinking for.  Date 4 was my plan if it felt right.

He made mention of me going out with other people so I boldly proclaimed that I like him and if this has a future, cheating isn’t my game.  If I am at that desperate a point in a relationship with someone, then it’s break up or couples therapy.  I have been cheated on.  He has been cheated on.  I get it.  I promised I would never do that to him.  Not that I was going to stop dating other people just yet – just that I wouldn’t cheat on him should that line get defined.  It wasn’t going to be that night as far, as I was concerned.

I also admitted to having been involved with a married man once and I was not proud of that but I wouldn’t do that outside my own relationship.  That’s when he said I had a “ding.”  But the things he is ok with me having done are far worse than that.  Things that could have killed other people are worse than someone he will never know fucking up his marriage.  At least I am honest even if it’s to my own detriment.

I did call him “babe” a few times but not from a girlfriend standpoint.  I just don’t like his name.  I can’t bring myself to say it so that’s what happened there.

At some point I know I used the word voyeurism a couple times but in response to what, I don’t remember.  But it had to have been something good.  When you find out a girl has progressive sexual interests, you should be psyched.  Everything else should be worked past to get back to that conversation later.

Gibberish kicked in when I was answering questions about where all my photos had been taken.  I also started talking about The National and art and being cerebral and having an artist’s soul.  I know.  That is a bit pretentious but I had just seen them the night before and then, when I threw on a playlist, Terrible Love was the first song so I got excited and started singing it to myself but just in pieces.  In gibberish.  Embarrassing.

So, that’s it.  Those are my sins.  That’s what got me completely cut off with no explanation.  All in all, I’d say that his is the biggest offense.  If he can’t handle Friday night, he can’t handle my life, pretty much, and that is the hallmark of a weak man.  He was looking for comfort & attention from me with no real interest in being able to provide comfort to me.  And despite all my sins, I am remarkably strong and need someone of equal muscle mass in the resilience and grit departments.

I was willing to handle an ex wife, a kid, an ex girlfriend….extremely recently and knowing he could be in an 8 year relationship without shitting or getting off the pot sooner.  He had also experienced a lot of death in his family at a young age so I factored in some depression too.  I wasn’t complaining about how he talked about the exes a bit.  I didn’t complain about why he kept asking if I had done drugs before.  I wasn’t complaining about being asked who I was out with every time I left my house.  I didn’t tell him to slow down when he said I made him happy.  No problem – I could manage all of it and didn’t need to solve all of it in one conversation.

Basically, unless you are building explosives in your basement with pressure cookers, there isn’t a whole lot I can’t handle because beautiful people are layered.  They are onions like me.  Their beauty lies in their flaws, mistakes and sins and how they move through them and come through the other side. Life is full of shit.  Mucky, smelly, knee deep horse shit.  You have to be able to wade through it and still be able to laugh, have hope, find light moments, build a structure around it because you will never have a life without it.  But if you have to run from me that quickly and ignore all the light stuff, that’s your loss and my gain.  Would it be nice if I were a little less complicated?  Sure.  But I’m not and me is what I’m working with.  And believe me, I do my life far better than anyone else could in my shoes.    If you have to walk through shit in life, I’m the person you’d want in there with you.  What a shame.