Complicated Circumstances

I had a very different dating post that I was going to write, but my dating life sort of feels like I’m Alice and I’ve fallen down the rabbit hole. It’s a constant fluctuation of change as of late. One day things are moving along swimmingly with this one, and I am offending that one. In the morning fickle vibes will haunt me with that one, and I cannot stop giggling with this one. Sometimes I wonder about both of them, and other times I know they must be wondering about me.

In other words I’m 13 again. I might as well be fucking doodling names on a Pee Chee Folder.

To define the complications in real time, they are hardly third world problems.

You ever see those rom-coms where the polished women can juggle an entire sexy little black book of men? Sooo not me. I’m the klutzy waiter in the goofball silent film where my plates of proverbial men stacked high on my tray are clanking against one another, barely balanced on my (oh-so-broad) shoulder. I am maneuvering thru the crowded room, panicked expression on my face as I nearly collide with numerous situations. You just know in the end, I’m going to end up face down in someone’s wedding cake.

See while I may BE a serial dater who has at times had her moments of commitment-phobia, I am generally very monogamous. It’s just in my nature. I focus on one person. I get giddy about one person. I think about … one person. But when you throw the word casual into the dating bucket, you change the perimeters of things. Casual means lacking seriousness, and if you’re not serious why are you seriously only casually dating one person?

*blinks in dizziness* What just happened there?

But that’s what I found myself doing. Seriously Casually Only Dating One. I was getting frustrated with this, because while on paper it might appear to be what I wanted (NSA), there was also limited time with one another. I was bored seeing him maybe once every two to three weeks. I found myself on the precipice of becoming what I didn’t want to be. Demanding and bitchy of time. It didn’t evolve into that, but only by the grace of God. I hated that the circumstances made me that way.  It’s no surprise that when opportunity came knocking at the door, I wanted to at least peek at what was out there.

So here comes Thing #2. Pretty unexpected. A friend initially, who had to throw The Brick at me, because I didn’t get his interest until then. This places me in a quandary, because although I don’t like the gilded cage I’ve placed myself into with Thing #1, I had walked into it. I had been the one to hand the key over to Thing #1. I did say I was cool with this monogamy thing …

I tried dating multiple people a few times in my twenties. They were all disasters. The first time I ended up really feeling an attraction to one person over the rest, but still attempted to play the field, because for some odd reason I thought that is what I was supposed to do. All that led to were numerous boring dates for me, wasted money for them (sorry Guys, it wasn’t intentional) because while I might have physically been there with them, emotionally I had checked out. Eventually The One I Was Nuts About and I started to date monogamously, so that ended that foray into playing the field.

The last time I tried a few years later, I ended up crazy about both men, which is even worse than dating without emotion. I had to pick a runner in the race (I picked wrong) and I shied away from multiple dating after that.

So fast forward all these years later, and here I am trying on these Dating Multiple Partners Pants which are very different from the Serial Monogamy Pants I am so used to. These new ones have the crotch too low, and the hips are too wide. They hug me in weird places, and I perpetually ask, “Does this situation make my ass look fat?” as I squirm trying to find the comfy spot.

I asked myself recently, “Why Casual?” – Most date casual, because they have no want or need for stranglehold of a serious relationship. Or the time needed in a more one-on-one just isn’t there for them. Some just really enjoy playing the field, because variety is the spice of life. Kudos to them. For me the answer is that I don’t trust my instincts yet. I know my limits. I also know I am a chickenshit when it comes down to opening myself up too much.  I don’t want to take this newly revamped ego and shaky-at-best emotional base on a long distance drive. I know it’s been about a year now, and I should be ready for what the world has to offer, but I’m not. I hold back with such force at time, you’d swear there was a plexi-glass wall between me and the other person. So let’s just do test drives, where I see if I can handle the potholes and pitfalls of real life. I don’t have the stamina to be hurt. I don’t have the wherewithal to not accidentally hurt someone else. I am V-U-L-N-E-R-A-B-L-E.

Over this past weekend, I realized that I am in over my head. I am playing in the big girls pool, while I am still in floaties. I am nowhere near capable of being a player. It looks easy and I imagine for some people, it IS easy. But beyond some great conversation, maybe a shared meal, I can’t do more than that. I start to feel guilt, and wonder how I woke up in these Playah’s clothes. I get all wonky and I am back to being 13 again.

Or maybe I’m 5 again, because it dawned on me this weekend that a). I don’t share well. At all. That b). I’m selfish, because I want all the toys, but I don’t want you to want them too. And c). that I still love naps. Yeah I know c). has nothing to do with this, but it does tie into my toddler stage.

Thing #1 wants monogamy and friendship. He explained the monogamy reasons to me, and I get it. The word friendship is silently screamed at me more often than he realizes. “I get it!” I want to laugh at him, but I know there is a tad more there. He makes that much clear. But he is a great friend and I do enjoy his company, on the limited times I see him. I ventured into this with the realization of limited romance just for that reason. It was safe. But time is GREATLY limited. And I bore easily.

Then Thing #2 comes along. He intrigues me. Offers me sweetness, laughter and some romance, but heavy complications. Complications that are even too thick for me to maneuver thru. Ones that require me to share, and ultimately place me in a position of saying “Nope, can’t do that either.” — Even though, yes, damnit, hypocritical me hasn’t let go of Thing #1. (That’s when my five-year old comes stomping out).

In my defense my heart isn’t attached to Thing #1, (Because I always have a good defense, unlike the 49ers last night. Hahahaha – I love when I make myself laugh), while Thing #2’s is still semi attached to his own friend. GAH!

I wondered last night – do I purposely place complications in my life, so I can conveniently step out a side door when they get to be too much? These complications require things like decisions and suddenly hey, “Whoooaaaa! — I only came for the food and entertainment, not the lecture folks!”, as I quickly backtrack out the first door!!! My instincts say cut and run, because Homey doesn’t do complications. But that’s simple over-thought bullshit. Sometimes Homey creates them, — like this.

Instead I sit here. Not knowing my ass from a hole in the ground as my mother used to say. I’ve probably demolished things with one beyond even friendship repair. Maybe that’s a good thing, maybe it’s not. It weighs on me either way.

Maybe I should follow the advice of a friend and go back to being a non-denominational, far from religious, sequestered celibate Nun. Makes more sense than wearing these stupid unfriendly, ill-fitting Dating Multiple Partners Pants.



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