I get it, it's cool to not care about anything. Oh my fish died? Whatever, he was kind of a prick anyway and never looked at me when I tapped on the glass and yelled into his mouth hole. Oh a plane crashed and a bunch of people died? Whatever, I don't know any Australians and I need to check my Twitter feed to see who's murdering Amanda Bynes's vagina today. Not caring makes you better than those fucking losers that donate money to abused animals and cry when they read the stories about the rape and torture of females in Uganda. Seriously, get some kleenex and shut the fuck up and go start a non-profit or something.
I'm not going to lie, I've gotten caught up in the giving zero fucks movement as well. I've had a lot of friends and dudes come and go over the past ten years of my life and I smile through it and shrug my shoulders and get the fuck on with my life. But in reality, feigning indifference is not the same thing. Hi, my name is Jenn and I care about things.
I briefly mentioned last time that I was hanging out with a dude. We'll call him The Beard. We'd been hanging out for a couple of weeks. Generally when you first start dating someone you try. For me, I make sure my hair is on point, my legs are shaved, my cat eye is flawless and I haven't eaten anything that day that could come back to haunt me. (Dudes if a girl eats Indian food, lots of onions or epic amounts of greasy Mexican food on a date, you are not getting in there. Nor should you try. I've heard some horror stories involving anal and curry. You're welcome.) Dudes should probably shower, make sure your balls aren't gonna make us gag, and at least attempt to be charming. The problem is, now that everyone wants to play the "I don't give a fuck game" none of this happens anymore. I mean I still made attempts to be presentable and my legs were mostly shaved. But in reality I wasn't super stepping up my game. And The Beard made no attempts to impress me. We were both trying so hard not to care and be nonchalant that it worked. We made ourselves believe that we really couldn't give a shit. No more text banter. We attempted to hang out maybe once a week but whatever if it didn't work out. I'd leave in the morning while he was still sleeping and then realize maybe that was a shitty thing to do but neither one of us cared enough to mention it. Then one of us didn't text the other back and it was done. Not even a "we need to talk" moment or "hey, you're really great but this isn't working out." Just nothing. Not even a "fuck you".
This situation makes me feel worse than a break-up after 8 months. At least when you go through a break-up you know you tried. Yeah you feel like you want to die and the thought of getting out of bed seems impossible and you realize your dog is soaking wet because you cried all over him for hours. (Sorry Hercules, I know after 17 years of dealing with me you probably fantasize about my death and that's ok I still love you.) But when a weird dating situation ends and I didn't even make a half-hearted attempt to see if things could work I feel defeated. I can't even explain what happened. All I can think is I must be really fucking awful at this whole dating thing and I start researching local convents and practice lying about being a virgin.
Then again maybe this is dating now. Where you meet someone online and they become a caricature of a person in your mind. They're just this cartoon character that sends you witty messages and because it's basically a blank slate you can make them as amazing as you want to in your mind. When the real person doesn't match up with what you imagined, and since in your phone you have them listed as "The Actor" or "The Beard" or "The Viking" anyway, it doesn't matter if you just stop talking to them. If they just fade off into the purgatory of dudes you used to talk to. Oh well, I just got a message from letmebangyou145 on okc so on to the next!
Maybe I don't want to be a cartoon character that entertains you. Maybe I don't want to be the person who's last name you never cared to know and the girl you text when you have nothing better to do and don't wash your balls for. Maybe I want to be the person you move your plans around for and the one you want to spend your weekends with and the one you call when you have a shitty day and need to talk about it.
Change starts with me or whatever right? Well actually I think change starts with Oprah but she's not returning my texts so I guess I'll have to do it for us. (Gayle, can you please have her call me? Thanks.) Despite my inclination to throw up the iron curtain, I'm going to make an effort to give a shit. And if I realize despite my efforts I actually don't, I'm gonna put my grown up panties on and say something. This whole phantoming thing is bullshit. Let's all woman the fuck up and tell someone when we're not feeling it. You might feel sick to your stomach for a minute and get stress induced buttcrack sweat, but honestly I think we'll all feel better afterwards. Closure is the new Ativan.
So to The Beard, if you're not too busy not giving a shit and reading this, I'm sorry for faking not caring so much that I actually believed it. Also please don't give my scarf to the next girl because if she's in Long Beach I'll see her wearing it and kick her in the uterus.
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