Wednesday, December 10, 2014

Dear Facebook, what's my relationship status?


Guys, I forgot how to date. I know it sounds ridiculous, but unless Facebook tells me I’m in a relationship and shows me the picture of who’s supposed to be the only person I let touch my downstairs, I don’t really know what the fuck is going on.

Let me explain. Generally when I’m actually dating someone or god help us all, in a “relationship”, I don’t write about the person. This happens for two reasons.

Reason #1:

No one wants to hear about how my boyfriend and I had a really cozy night in eating burritos, watching Netflix and then falling asleep with our socks on. People who tell me these things are immediately rewarded with a punch in the junk. I don’t give a shit. If you and your boyfriend tried anal for the first time or he told you to use a strap on and violate his colon, that’s the shit I need to know. Which is why if it’s not something I care about, I’m not going to make you guys suffer through it. See look, I care about people, or whatever. And to be perfectly honest my last few relationships have either been hot messes and I couldn’t even tell you what happened last night because spiritually I was dead. Or shit was so boring it would have made me suicidal to read back about how much my life sucked.

Reason #2:

I feel bad writing about people I’m dating. Chances are I’m going to have good intentions and then suddenly that third glass of Merlot is going to kick in and I’ll start raging about how waking up next to him is feeling like a failure every morning and how I hate the way he chews his food and hope he chokes and dies. I wish I could say I was exaggerating, but I’m so many other things I’d rather not be a liar too.  I don’t need written proof of my eventual hatred so if persons go missing my ass is munching carpet for the next 15-20 years.

Since my boyfriends are noticeably absent from my blog, the only way I can remember that I have them is because Facebook reminds me. Facebook also reminds other dudes that might want to plow this lawn that there’s an electric fence up and while I’m good, I’m probably not worth getting your testicles shocked up into your asshole. Facebook even reminds you when you started dating and when it’s time to start pulling out the costumes and role play and maybe change up that safe word that stopped working a few months ago. (The safe word is always “Yellow”.)

Thus, my dilemma. I’m kinda hanging out with a dude. We’re at that point where it’s either bang buddy territory or adopting a puppy together territory. Ha, kidding. I would never let some son of a bitch own half of any of my shit. Especially a French bulldog with one eye named Pierre. But real talk. I don’t know what’s happening. I’m not sure if I should stop TFDing (Trolling For Dick for the newbies), or TFD harder, or jump off a cliff, or join a nunnery. Basically I don’t know how casual dating works. If you hang out with someone once or twice a week is that even dating? If we are dating what are the rules? What orifices are off limits?

I’m good at being single. I know how to live this life. I don’t have to return text messages or phone calls in a timely manner. My dog can rub his asshole all over his side of the bed and no one cares. I can take an Ambien and drink a bottle of wine and drool all over myself and people still think I’m nailing it when I show up at the bar the next day ready to make bad decisions. Also if I see a dude at Rite Aid at 9:00 p.m. buying tall cans I can give him the drunk wink that wins them over every time and drink one of his tall cans at his mom’s house and debate giving him a sad HJ in his room decorated with baseball paraphernalia.

My exes would probably have some arguments against this (to them I say ASPERGER’S) but I’d also say I can do relationships. I’ll cook dinner, have enough booze in the house for both of us, I’m up for morning sex always, I’ll refrain from bitching about your pubes in my shower, if you shoot me in the eye I’ll only be mad for 10-15 minutes and I’m too lazy to try to TFD elsewhere if I have a sure deal at home. I’m pretty sure this should be my dating resume. Killin it!

It’s this whole in between situation that ruins my life. Having to worry about someone else’s feelings or feeling like I should care when I don’t hear from them or maybe drive by their house to make sure another Yaris isn’t in their driveway, THIS DRIVES ME FUCKING CRAZY. I’m capable of not giving a shit but then my friends tell me I’m being cold and heartless. But when I give a shit I get all Lisa Left Eye Lopes (RIP) kinda nuts and want to burn people’s mansions down.

My plan is to stop caring about any of this and do what I do best. Booze it up and make attractive dudes uncomfortable at bars. Seriously though, I don’t understand what’s not charming about me hitting on your and your twin and then telling you you look like terrorists and drinking your drink? Does anyone know a website where I can auction myself off as a mail order bride to Russia? Tweet me.   

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