Fuck buddies

People need to realize that if you're going to devote time to the "fuck," you also have to devote time to the "buddy."

The first is better when the second is not neglected.

Dealbreakers

I mean, if you're going to knowingly and willingly tell strangers on the internet that The Purpose-Driven Life is the best book you've ever read?

You should probably just get used to never having sex, is all.

Choose wisely

There is a dude on one of the sites I use whose username is asshickey.

I mean, really.

He should have just gone all the way and named himself genitalwarts.  I'd have had the same reaction.

And for my next trick--

I am currently talking to a married guy, and I just don't give a fuck anymore.

I feel so small.

Sex and the City ruined my life

You know that episode where Berger tells the ladies "he's just not that into you"?

And you know how it became a national phenomenon, with a book and Oprah appearances and a fucking media tsunami?  And then ten years later, there was a dumb movie?

Well, "he's just not that into you" can FUCK RIGHT OFF.

I feel like, if I didn't know about that, I might find some small comfort in still thinking that Mike might want me, or that he's just scared to approach me, or some bullshit fairy tale that would let me sleep at night.

HOWEVER.

Having been exposed to "he's just not that into you" is like being punched in the face every day with the reality that he is, in fact, just not that into me.

"If he wanted to be with me, he'd be with me," I tell well-meaning friends who try to give excuses for his [lack of] behavior.  Empirically, I acknowledge that Berger is right, and I am wasting my time wallowing in what-could-have-been.

That I am denied the tiny pleasure of daydreaming that Mike is as miserable without me as I am without him makes me angry, and for this, I blame Sex and the City.

FOREVER.

I don't believe in magic after all

I went out with a magician.

I feel like this puts me in a whole different dating bracket, like I've leveled up.  The number of people who can say they've dated a magician has to be very small.

I realize that my data is anecdotal, but seriously:  magicians are kind of lame.  Like, there is nothing you can do to make magic cool.  You can dress it in leather and make it wear eyeliner, but at the end of the day, it's still basically your grandpa pulling a quarter out of your ear.

My opinions, of course, are affected by the fact that the one magician I know, who also happens to be the one magician I've dated, turned out to be kind of a pompous horse's ass, and worthy only of being the butt* of endless jokes.

I did not enjoy the date, but I have enjoyed making fun of him and, by extension, myself, for going out with him, so at least I got something out of it.

And really, that's the only thing I got out of it, because he gave me a hug at the end of the night and said, "I don't kiss on the first date."  And I was like, "Your loss," but also, "WHEW."

The magic officially ended when, the next week, he texted that he missed me, which creeped me the fuck out, and I told him we were looking for different things and good luck to him.  I didn't even tell him I hoped we could be friends, because he didn't even reach Friend Potential; that's how bad it was.

I'd had a fairly pleasant relationship with magic before him, but now I am not a fan.

He ruined magic.  Fuck him.



* see what I did there?

Relapse, part 2

I didn't talk about him except in passing, but I went out with a guitarist for a minute before I got hung up on my stupid feelings and shit.

We didn't really talk that much after, but not because of anger or anything, just because it was clear that we weren't going to be anything other than fuck buddies, and we were both fine with that.

So I "revisited" him, and it was fine--better than the Bad Speller--and I'll probably hear from him in another couple of months.

I cannot believe who I am right now.