There are two kinds of people in this world. Well I mean as far as dating and relationships go. Don’t get all politically correct and crazy. I also watched Pocahontas and know about the colors of the wind and multiculturalism and all that. Now change your diaper and simmer down.
There are people who thrive in and want to be in a relationship and there are people that lose their god damn mind and cannot mentally handle being in a relationship. You can probably guess which category I fall into. (Reminder: I have a blind cat and a 17 year-old dog.) The whole idea of being a “we” and having to consult with another human being about where I’m going, what I’m doing, how many new shoes I’ll be buying this month and if I had 3 or 33 drinks yesterday sort of makes me feel like all my insides are going to explode. Yes, that is a creative way of saying diarrhea.
I see my friends in relationships and sometimes it looks awesome. I wouldn’t mind having someone who is obligated to hang out with me all the time and to tell me I’m cute when I wake up in the morning with one eyebrow still on and my eye shadow on my chin and bring me ginger ale and a burrito when I’m hungover and leave the house for at least an hour when I have to poop after the burrito. I wouldn’t hate consistently getting laid and having date nights with bottles of wine and having someone co-parent my pets (aka clean the cat box when I’m too hungover and will barf or walk my dog when the thought of putting on pants would be worse than death). If that’s all it is, sure, I’m super down.
Then you realize that relationships are also pubes all over the bathroom and boy pee stains on the toilet seat and fights at 3 a.m. and jealousy and crying and cheating and a lot of fucked up shit man. Wine and sex can only fix so much. Why can’t it just be the good stuff? Why do people need the drama and the talking and the sharing of feelings and joint bank accounts and shared property and “our song” and the nonsensical bullshit?
I’m not saying that monogamy and marriage and commitment are dumb. Apparently (allegedly) it does work out for some people. But to be honest I’ve yet to see a long-term relationship work without one or both people compromising important aspects of what makes them, them.
I’ve had so many female friends that I adored because they were independent, confident, fearless, opinionated, bold and drank and cursed like sailors. My people. Then they meet a dude who’s pretty dull and bland and suddenly everything lovable about them is gone. It turns into “we don’t drink during the week” (what the fuck does that even MEAN!?) and the invites become third-wheel excursions always and suddenly I despise this person. I can’t even remember what I liked about her. Or the friends that only call you when their dude isn’t around but want to spend the whole time you’re with them texting him and bitching about him and being pissed off she’s not with him. Meanwhile I’m sitting their imagining myself shoving her phone down her throat or throwing my drink in her face and screaming “PROSTITUTE WHORE!!!” while attempting to flip the table that is clearly screwed into the floor because of people like me. I would rather be mauled and have each limb individually ripped off by a super cute polar bear than be this person. (Note: If I ever do become this person you have my permission to throw me into a polar bear exhibit at the zoo and taze anyone that tries to save me. This is a binding document.)
I’d like to believe that in the future, a dude will walk out of prison a free man, walk into a bar, put a song by The Kills on the jukebox, order a Moscow mule and will be my long-term one night stand. However, I also realize that he will likely ride to the bar on a unicorn with his pet Velociraptor and his leprechaun sidekick. But I’m going to hold out. I’m not going to stop cursing, drinking, offending white people in public, refusing to wear pants indoors and letting dishes pile up in my sink because I REALLY, REALLY hate doing dishes.
I’m not going to pretend I like your mom’s piece of shit little dog that tries to bite me, or let your weird aunt think I would ever let you put a baby in me, or stop talking about poop, or hang out with your lame ass friends that still play video games, or pretend it’s ok that you troll bars after I go to bed, or let you tell me I can’t keep the TV on all the time, or let you take the outside spot in bed, or pretend I like to cuddle because I for the love of god don’t want to be swaddled like a baby with your body.
If not being willing to compromise what makes me awesome doesn’t work for you, then I guess all I can say is PEACE OUT MOTHERFUCKER. Go park your U-Haul of bullshit in someone else’s asshole. (Seriously though, nothing goes in my asshole.) I’ve already come to terms with my cat lady future and all my silverware matches so as far as I’m concerned, I’m fucking NAILING IT.