Another Let Down

I have determined, through much experimentation, that my main problem when it comes to dating is that I refuse to beg for attention. My information on this front is purely anecdotal, obviously, but it would seem that men (and women, tbh) find my lack of need for attention to be off-putting. And so, my dear readers, I am once again just going to give up trying to date… cuz I’m not good at it, apparently.

I can’t argue against the fact that when you get to know me I’m fairly cold, calculating, and operate much like a computer simulated personality. To start with, I document and log information you give me so as to determine the “correct” response to whatever you’re talking to me about. I’ve been known to do research on things so as to better acclimate myself to being associated with people. Most of my responses at the beginning of a social interaction are artificial. I’m very much fake, and I know that. Still, it takes time to notice, if you even notice ALL of that. Once you get to know me, if that isn’t enough to make you turn tail and run, I will tone it down and be more myself, but part of being myself is also being slightly fake anyways. People who’ve known me for a long time might know this without putting a name to it, but it’s just something people adapt to or run from. I can’t help it. I’m incapable of natural interaction.

Dating is weird, though. Everyone seems to want you to crave them like heroin. I’m not that kind of person. I’m totally fine with not talking to someone everyday. I have my own life and it doesn’t have some gaping hole in it because I’m alone. I guess it’s uncommon for a person to be totally whole and complete by themselves? That sounds condescending as shit, but the successful relationships I witness aren’t two totally complete people that happen to like associating, they’re two people that seem to need each other. Once they don’t need each other anymore they fall apart; there’s no room for the other person anymore. By that logic, I don’t have room in my life for another person… and maybe I don’t but I would never know, since no one gives me a chance to make the room.

I got a phone number of a guy two weekends ago. Bird and I were at a show, and this guy was funny, seemed nice, and I ended up getting his number because he asked for mine. Well, I hadn’t heard from him by Wednesday, and I like to make plans. So, I hit him up, because I’m a strong, independent woman and don’t need no man to make the first move. The conversation was nice enough, and drug out over two days, but he didn’t ask to see me and I haven’t heard from him since. I debated texting him again… but if he wanted to talk to me, I feel like he would. I’m not going to beg for attention. I have shit to do. I’m just irritated because if he were to ask me on a date, I’d like to have the time left open for him, but my weekends fill up pretty quick. If you’re not on the schedule, you don’t get to see me.

Based on all this info, I’m just going to forget that I got his number. I don’t have the patience to wait on him…

Also… it kind of hurts my feelings. I was excited that someone in really real life had picked me out to have interest in. I was excited to get to know someone knew. I was excited to maybe get laid. I was just excited for things to be different and interesting. I’m asexual and aromantic, but I’m not dead. I could use someone new in my life… We didn’t seem to have a lot in common, but we could have. I could have learned some new stuff and developed some new hobby. That’s what I like about new people in my life… It’s a chance to expand with purpose, not just for the sake of being the smartest person in the room.

I hate when I do this to myself…
I get my hopes up for something new and fun and different before it’s certain that it’s even going to be a thing… but then I feel like when I’m not excited about something new I end up wrecking it by NOT being excited…

So I dunno how I’m supposed to feel…

But mostly I feel disappointed.

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The Nice Robot Boy

A while back, not really sure how long (roughly June), but a while back I met a guy from the internet. This isn’t new behavior for me. He seemed really nice and pretty interesting, so I agreed to meet him at a local goth bar for a drink.

Neither of us are real gothy. I don’t actually think he EVER was, but it’s a place he likes in Denver, and I always liked the look and feel of Double Daughters myself… so whatever. We were both early. We were both awkward. We got into an argument about whether baby would be best served with white or brown gravy… White… obviously…

It was a particularly strange time, but it was fun.

Then some time passed, and he asked me out again. During the passage of time, which might’ve been over a month, to be honest, we chatted on Facebook. We’re both introvert-y kinds of people, so it was really pretty fine. Also, I wasn’t ACHING to go on another date. I like having plans, but I’m still real unsure about the whole romantic thing at this point in my life… seems so unnecessary. Also I’m aromantic, so like… I’m okay with distance… We chatted regularly, though. He always gets my attention the same way, which is that he says, “beep.” I often reply with “boop.” Together we are strange as the day is long.

He’s a robot boy… I am an android girl. We are very awkward.

So we went to a Hawaiian place with the intent of getting Spam tacos (which are decided better tasting than they sound… Hawaiians really know how to cook Spam). We ended up eating Cuban sandwiches and playing Pokemon GO. I took my first gym that day. It was awesome.

Then there was time again.

He asked me and a friend to come up and play Pathfinder with him and some friends. They do it every Friday, I guess. It was a LONG MFing drive… and it cost me $21 because taking the toll road seemed faster than going around. It was a weirdly good time. Not a lot happened story-wise, but it was hilarious. I was an Orc Rouge… so that was neat. My friend was a Gnome Mage. That was hilarious.

Then more time… and then…

We, being overweight taco lovers, decided to get tacos for real this time. We went to Torchy’s, which I’d never been to, and it turns out he hadn’t been to it, either. It was a good time. Good taco. Then, we couldn’t decide what to do. His friends were one direction on Broadway, mine were the opposite. We went with mine, cuz I figured we’d make an appearance, then we could go hang out with his friends who were out drinking like monsters.

My friends were playing a 90s set at a lil bar/record store. Their band is a ridiculous acoustic cover band that incorporates the use of kazoo… so it’s a good time. We hung out till well after the set ended and talked and laughed. It was a lot of fun.

This time, there was no time in between. He invited me up to his place for a bad movie night. His apartment complex is 45 mins away from me. So there’s that. Also, it’s like a weird horror movie setup. It’s on top of this hill and it looks like an insane asylum or something. It’s huge. Nice apartment, though. We had a great time. I showed him The Lost Skeleton of Cadavera and Tusk, and he showed me The Room, which is awful…

We’re supposed to get together this weekend, too, but I don’t know what we’ll do.

I like him. I don’t wanna have sex with him, though… that asexuality thing is a bitch… I don’t even really like kissing him… but I don’t like kissing anyone… so that’s not saying much. I’m worried that might be a problem later, though… We’ll see, I guess.

Anyways… met me a robot boy.

Reception

Back in May I found out that my ex got married when his wife posted their wedding pics and tagged him in all of them on FB (they were actually married in April). I thought I made a blog entry about it, but I couldn’t find one. I think I just drank a lot, instead. I remember doing that, for sure.

Today my ex invited me to his wedding reception, which his wife is calling their “Happily Ever After Party.” That’s cute. I like it. I bet she’s really nice. I hope they’re happy. It’s also really nice he invited me. I don’t want to go, but it’s nice he invited me.

Don’t get it twisted, I am not still in love with my ex.
The thing is that A, I hate weddings and wedding kinds of things, and 2, I’m busy wallowing in my own misery and loneliness.

You see, I’ve been single for four years. I haven’t has a serious relationship since then, and I was totally fine with that until he got married. When he got married, I was reminded that I’ve been single for four years without even a serious INTEREST in another human being. Meanwhile, he was off cultivating a nice relationship with a nice girl and married her, just like he always wanted. It just made me feel like I’m not trying or something. Like, by movie rules I should at least have found a new boyfriend or discovered I was a lesbian or something.

I mean, I did reconcile with the fact I’m asexual and aromantic, and I guess counts since I got to deal with all those messed up feelings that I’ve been pushing down for the better part of 13 years, but we’ve gone over how that doesn’t really help me with any feelings of discontent. I’m still an insufferably lonely person, and all being aro ace adds to that is that it’s 99.999% harder to find someone. I mean, who wants to put in time with someone that doesn’t care for romance and doesn’t wanna fuck you? What am I bringing to the dating table here? Nothing. I’m bringing nothing.

If this were another person I’d be telling them to forget dating and really just enjoy their friendships, as well as them just going out and meeting people that do things they do. As we’ve also discussed, I don’t have friends and I don’t meet people when I go out. I recently realized that I’m so out of touch with the people that are supposed to be my friends, that I didn’t know that the group split because two of them aren’t talking to each other anymore. I can’t tell you what any of them are doing. I have totally cut myself off from them… and you know what? I don’t miss them.
Am I lonely? You bet your ass, but I don’t miss them.

I dunno why my ex’s marriage bothers me so much. I cut him loose because I didn’t want to get married and I knew he did. I still don’t wanna get married, like to anyone, but like in my head, all I can hear is my mom and her relentless insistence that I find someone so that I’m not completely alone when she dies. I finally got her to stop saying it in real life, but she’s said it so much in my life that it’s permanently ingrained on my brain that I’m going to be completely alone after she dies.

The closest I’ve gotten to dating recently is an extreme introvert that I occasionally get tacos with. I’m not romantically interested in him, but he’s nice. Neither of us really like being out on the town, though, and he lives way up north… so I never want to go see him. It’s not that I don’t want to see him, but over an hour’s drive to get there is just a lot… and I have to go home after since I have the pets, so that racks up to over 2 hours of driving just to hang out for a minute with a guy that barely talks, and his equally introverted hermit roommates. It’s not my bag.

I guess what bugs me is that none of this bugged me till I found out that he was married, and I was once again okay with myself after I found out, until he invited me to the reception. I don’t like feeling insecure, and I dunno why his life has any impact on mine…

I just hate everything, I guess.

I’m Not Your Princess

Snapchat and Aviary makes for a good picture on a day I didn’t even bother to wear makeup.

In other news, I closed my dating account. Again.
ALL THE SURPRISES! (sarcasm)
It’s weird  because I didn’t get fed up with people sending me inappropriate messages. Yeah, I have fun sometimes when someone sends me a message about how huge my boobs are or something, but honestly if you send me a message about how much you wanna pork me in the back of your car a sick part of me is still like, “that’s unusually flattering.” I still decline, of course, but I’m flattered. No, what sent me over the edge of tolerance was a 53 year old man with a pre-teen daughter that felt the need to call me princess.

I’m 27. That means this guy is 26 years older than me.
I know that lots of people don’t mind age differences. In fact, the older my friends get, the less age matters to them at all, so long as everyone is legal. In my own family vast age differences are totally common place, probably because they’re southern. My mom is 13 years older than my dad. My aunt was 20-something years younger than her 2nd husband, and is 10-ish years older than the new one (the 2nd husband died of cancer… she doesn’t go through men like tissues or anything). I have aunts and uncles with 15-ish years separated in age. Even the love of my mom’s life was 18 years older than her (and subsequently died 12 years ago).

To me, though, I never liked older men, and this particular 53 year old exemplifies exactly why. He called me princess. I take issue with that for a number of reasons, not the least of which is that he doesn’t know me and has no right to give me some pet name… much less one that fathers give to their daughters when they’re little.

I hate pet names, in general. I have a name. I have several names, actually, and you can use ANY of them. Everything from my proper name to MOUSE, which some high school friends still call me. There’s no reason to call me something else, no reason to make up a new nickname. After we’ve been dating for a while I will allow terms of endearment, such as but not limited to sweetie, darling, dear, hon, honey, and even pookie. If that’s not enough variety for you, that you need to pull out the most condescending pet name for girls ever invented, then we should not associate.

On top of hating pet names, I hate PRINCESS the most. Princess is not a compliment. Princess is an insult. I’m not a soft-spoken piece of genetic property that you get to either pass around to your friends before marrying me off, or something you can trade to a neighbor to increase your own property and wealth. I’m not helpless, and if I were locked in a tower guarded by a dragon I would work long and hard to train that dragon to take me away from the whole situation. I’m not a prize to be won for valor or performance.
Historically, being a princess was less of an honor and more of a legal and socially accepted form of forced prostitution and slavery. If I’m gonna be a prostitute, Imma do it on my own damn terms and take all the profits for myself. So this concept that calling me, a full grown woman with opinions and abstract thoughts, a princess is totally unacceptable. It’s not a fucking compliment, no matter how you slice it.

And finally, if you have a pre-teen daughter that you also call PRINCESS… you’re a fucking creep and I worry about the safety of your kid. Is that extreme? I dunno. I know that if you call us both princess and wanna treat me like I’m also a child, but you also wanna fuck me… that’s sketch to me. I get this a lot with older men, which is why I have no interest in them. They all want to treat me like a child. They condescend to me. They laugh at my thoughts. They never take me seriously.

What I Said: Raising the minimum wage isn’t a long-term solution to the economic caste system in the United States, and it distresses me that the government wouldn’t employ academic professionals to investigate why the cost of living continues to increase so dramatically and how we can stabilize the economy.

What They Heard: Some dogs are brown!

What They Reply: That’s right, Princess! Some dogs ARE brown!

I know, of course, that not all older men are this way, but I haven’t found one that treats me like a human being that isn’t married or that I am actually into. Usually they’re just friends of mine. Friends that constantly tell me that I need to stop messing around with the stupid boys my age, because I’m an old soul and need someone that’s on my level. If they had friends they thought could survive me, I’m sure they’d even go so far as to try and set me up… but apparently I have all the rage and razor sharp wit of a 40 year old divorcee… which I take as a compliment.

I’d also like to throw out there that this 53 yr old probable-creep is actually older than my dad, and THAT creeps me out, too. Now, granted, my dad is a young dad. He had me at 21. My mom says that I’m the way I am because she had an old egg and my dad had young sperm. That’s gross to think about, but she attributes that mix to my “OLD SOUL” that everyone says I have…

I dunno that it had anything to do with it… or maybe it was that my Baby Boomer mom raised a Gen Xer when I actually fell into the Millennial generation (most Gen Xers were raised by Boomers)… or maybe I just grew up faster because I spent so much time alone as a kid… or maybe it has to do with the fact that I spent so much time around adults as a kid when I did socialize, so I never really wanted to do kid stuff…
I dunno. There are a lot of variables.

My point is that if you’re an older man and you hit on a younger woman… for fuck sake, don’t call them a princess or anything a father would call his daughter…. also… they are people not kids…

Eye Enucleation

A while back my baby, Kyrie Bear, suffered eye trauma. I thought it was an eye infection, but it was trauma… she smacked it on something, I guess. Unbeknownst to me, trauma can cause glaucoma. How she smacked it hard enough to cause that, I dunno. She has such deep-set eyes.

kyrie

Kyrie (seen here wearing a shirt only because she wouldn’t stop licking her leg) is a 10 year old German Shepherd, Chow Chow, Shar Pei mix that I picked up from the Dumb Friends League roughly nine years ago. She is blissfully unaware that she is 10 or that she has glaucoma, and regularly tries to eat food delivery men. If you let her, she’ll leap (and clear) a 6 foot privacy fence, and then spend the next hour or two running your ass all over the neighborhood (or farther if you fail to corral her). She still runs the backyard with the three year old dogs, and she gets excited when I come home. She’s never been one to sleep on the bed, but recently she’s taken to laying on the far end of the couch from me, or even jumping on the bed to wake me up sometimes. She’s a great guard dog, and while she was a menace and terror till about age 5, she’s turned into a great dog.

I know she can’t see out of her glaucoma eye very well. I’ve been calling her Cotton-Eye Joe, since the eye is all cloudy and white. Still, the prospect of my baby girl losing her eye is sad to me. I know it’s more economical than my buying the $200 worth of eye drops every month. (I have to get them from a people pharmacy, and she’s not qualified for my insurance… so… big expense.) I know it’s better for Kyrie too, because it won’t cause her pain anymore. BUT MY BABY IS GONNA BE A CYCLOPS! It’s just… sad.

I took her in to get blood work done today, and she goes in first thing tomorrow morning. She’ll be there all day, and then I’m taking tomorrow through Sunday off to be with her. After that, my mom is taking the week off for herself, but she’ll be on hand to pop over and check on Kyrie. So… it worked out pretty well. My mom also watches all these vet shows on TV, so she’s seen them to the eye enucleation, an assures me that she’ll be totally fine. I’m sure she will be, since I’ve known the vet since I was like 12. I worked at his veterinary facility as a bather for the groomer, actually. I just wish my baby wasn’t losing the eye.

Not only is this emotionally taxing, but it’s expensive. Yeah, it’ll save me money in the future, but it’s eating essentially my whole tax return… so, that’s a bummer. I could have used that money to get a little further out of debt. I feel like I’ve been working on it forever. I dunno what the money goes to (Chipotle and impulse video game purchases. Art supplies I didn’t need and books I’ve yet to read. I have an impulse control problem.)

Still, I’m getting 5 days off of work, even if the circumstance is shitty. I plan on lots of Kyrie cuddles, and maybe killing some video games I’ve been toying on. I might also get through some books I’ve been trying to read. I like the idea of time off without trying to do house renovations.

Today, trying to get ahead so I can be off, has been shit. I have contemplated homicide SEVERAL times. I dunno why when I try to get shit done everything always falls apart. Obscene.

Anyways… Expect picture of my one-eyed pup tomorrow. MY POOR BABY!!!

I guarantee I suffer more over this than she does… I tormented myself over her glaucoma for months, and I wasn’t even responsible… Now I’ll be kinda responsible for the lost eye, and Imma torture myself over it, I’m sure…

And… I’m Out

SHIT THAT CROSSES THE LINE:
Not taking shit I say seriously.
Withholding important information.

Last night I went to a movie with SupaNerd. The last entry toyed with the idea that I wasn’t sure that I liked him, so much as I wanted to like him. That thought hadn’t left my mind, but he asked and I like having plans. So we went to see Zootopia. I actually saw it yesterday morning with mothership, but it’s a really good movie. It’s a really good movie about discrimination, and equality, and I was really impressed with the whole thing. I hadn’t heard any reviews, and no one I knew was excited to see it, so I was just going because I like having breakfast with the mothership and watching a movie. Anyways, SupaNerd didn’t get off work till 8, so by the time he swung by to pick me up we had limited viewing options. Fortunately it’s a good movie.

Now, I know that I have a lot of pet peeves. Too many: I’ll throw it out there that I have too many pet peeves, but if I tell you that I have pet peeve that’s not a playful invitation to irritate me until I want to bash your teeth out with a brick. In fact, I would not recommend that. I have been known to enact physical violence on people that poke at a pet peeve. I don’t have a good tolerance for it.

That being said, when SupaNerd first tried to touch my curly hair, I told him I don’t play that. I also let him know that I smacked a bitch at work for touching my hair. It’s a thing. I like space. Stay the fuck away from my face and/or hair. I was nice about it. I didn’t snap at him. I didn’t swat his hand away. I didn’t punch him in the throat. I later decided that I should have prolly punched him in the throat, cuz all he did was proceed to poke at my face and hair. I hate that shit. I hate it so much…

I kind of hate people touching me at all. For whatever reason, he feels the need to do it constantly. My mom says my dad was like that, too. Just had to touch her ALL THE TIME. Why? Why can’t you just be a human being over there in your own human being bubble? There’s a time and place, motherfucker. You don’t need to touch me all the time. Since he was a such a fuckwad about my face and hair pet peeve, I allowed him to touch my thigh, instead. I still didn’t like it. I still hated it. I still wanted to beat his face in with something hard and sandpapery. Still, it was better than him trying to fuck with my face.

Another pet peeve is being OVERLY cheap. You wanna use a coupon on our date? Great. Whip that shit out. What else you got a coupon for? You wanna argue with a waitress about the DOLLAR that it costs to sub out french fries for sweet potato fries? Too cheap. He managed to con her into sending out a refill on my coke cray-early so he could have a free coke, since he was ordering water. Really? REALLY? 

Now, if he was cray broke and counting every penny, I could understand being cheap, but I still think it’s some rude ass shit to argue with a powerless waitress about the price of Coca-Cola and fries… Thing is, though, he’s not broke. He’s got a really good job. We discussed this previously because he eats shrimp and scallops all the damn time. I can’t afford shrimp and scallops on the daily, but he can. Can he afford that because he’s arguing with waitresses over a dollar? No. I don’t think so. It’s unnecessarily cheap, and it’s motherfucking rude. That waitress didn’t make the prices. I wanted to curl up and die… 

So, then we were watching previews. There’s this movie coming out called Storks. Looks cute, but makes me cringe cuz it’s about babies. Out of nowhere, SupaNerd says: “That’s how I’m going to teach Johnny about where babies come from.” Who’s Johnny? I, too, was curious. Nephew? I know his sister has a kid. Little brother? Cousin, perhaps?

NOPE. HE HAS A KID.

Now, don’t misread me. I don’t mind people with kids. I’ve dated a number of guys that had kids. I love other people’s kids. I could totally be a step-mom. What pissed me off is that it’s been too fucking long to have not mentioned this previously. His defense was simply that he forgot to mention it. Whoops.

Fuck that noise.

If you can forget to mention that you have procreated… what else have you neglected to tell me? Are you married? Are you married to like seven different people across the US who all have the same story of you leaving your wife and six children behind? Are you a felon? Do you have the Herp? Are you a Russian sleeper cell sent here by Vladimir Putin to recruit me? Are you the leader of a new cult and you need me to be the creepy serial-killery enforcer at your side? Do you sacrifice infants to the dark lord under a blood moon to gain the knowledge of the universe and the powers of night?

This kid is like new, too. New enough to need a talk about where babies come from. Like… A, when does he ever see little Johnny? Is that REALLY why he goes back to Wichita every other week? 2, Why does the mother have full custody? It’s not the 80s anymore… a father can get full custody, especially if the mother is as cray as he’d have me believe she is. D, HOW DO YOU FUCKING FORGET TO MENTION THAT YOU HAVE OFFSPRING?! That’s a big thing.

Also, he tried to fucking talk to me during the movie… at a fucking theater.
I was so irritated that the sound of his laughter made me want to kill him.

It was all just the topping on the bad ju-ju cake.
I can’t trust him. I can’t tolerate his touchy-feely habit. I already felt like he was clingy and needy. He’s cheap to the point of rudeness. He makes gross noises when he eats, breathes, or generally exists. (Mucus problem? Idk.) He talks during movies. I’d rather have been on a play-date with a 6 year old. It was so bad.

So… I thought about it, and ghosting him wasn’t on the table, because I was in too deep. My friend in California agreed. My friend in Australia said I should just use the kid as a card to play, since a normal person might call it off because they “want to take that journey with someone for the first time.” Which is gross…

I didn’t wanna lie… so I ghosted him, and I don’t give a fuck.

This guy stood me up once. Then ignored me for a month. Then acts like a  freaking needy child AND FORGETS TO TELL ME HE HAS A CHILD. Is it shitty to ghost people? Yes. It’s shitty and total fuckery. And I regret nothing.

I don’t have time for the “but why”  and all the attempts to justify everything they did wrong. Even if you don’t answer their questions, they try to justify everything… and then they might get mad. He might secretly be a psycho. He’s got a shitty “I’m always right” attitude anyways. You should hear the shit he says about his sister just because she’s a single mother. So then a bitch starts to think… would he get more angry if I ignore him or if I tell him it’s over. What if he shows up to my house in an angry fit? These are the things a woman has to consider. Fortunately, I have four dogs and I say creepy serial-killery shit all the time, so he’s naturally a bit wary, but I wouldn’t write him off. He could still snap.

So… that’s the end. I’m out.

I deleted my dating profiles. I’m okay alone. I like being alone. I have honestly missed not having to text people. Yeah, I’d like someone to do stuff with, but I still hold out hope that one of these days I’ll meet someone when I’m out doing the stuff I like to do, and we can build off that…

I like the IDEA of you….

Stupid Question: How do you know if you actually like a person?

Is it just me? Sometimes I don’t like people, but I like the IDEA of them.
I actually used that to break up with a guy once and he’s used it to break up with every girlfriend since. I don’t know that he really understood the concept, though.

Let me give you an example:
Envision this guy. He’s a European artist. He gets into politics with a genuine dream to make his country the best it could be. This person holds anti-smoking campaigns, pushes for laws against animal cruelty, is a vegetarian, is nominated for the Noble Peace Prize, becomes Time Magazine’s Man of the Year, gains a winning bid for the Summer Olympics for his country, and is really into “the old west.”

9297ed279d632a17a812b52c7fbd6601

Literally, this is Hitler.
Everything I just described are fun facts about Hitler.

I bet that if Hitler hadn’t gone all whackadoo he would have prolly been a pretty nice guy. What’s really scary about that realization, is that Hitler was just a dude. A seemingly normal dude that managed to go down in infamy for mass genocide and a dictatorship that people still reference.
Just a dude… liked kids… thought he was doing the right thing.
That’s scary as fuck.

My point is that on paper Hitler sounds like a fantastic person. Obviously… when you factor in the mass genocide and stuff, not such a great guy.

On a significantly less dramatic scale, this happens to me with friends. Everyone has had two friends and thought to yourself, “These are essentially the same person. I bet they’d get along great!” But when they are introduced, they inevitably hate each other. They have the same interests, the same hobbies, they both like you… and they fucking hate each other.
This is the essence of liking the idea of a person without liking them at all.

I don’t know if I really like SupaNerd or if I just like the idea of him and therefore WANT to like him.On paper he’s great. He likes Steven Universe, scifi, comic books, video games, cars, and rock shows. He has a really good job. He doesn’t have any correlation to any of my friends so he hasn’t unknowingly slept with any of them. He’s not poly (poly people love me… I don’t know why… but I hate sharing). He likes me. He’s not real pushy.

Our first date was great. I was also full of Guinness, though.
Our second date was awkward and a little lack-luster, but good.
Then he accidentally stood me up, and I was upset.
Then he had to cancel the make-up date because of work.
Then he ignored me for a month, and I was confused and kinda hurt.
Then he popped up out of nowhere and we have the best worst date, ever.
And then I wasn’t excited to see him the next day… but I did… and it was meh.
Then wanted to see me like everyday after, and it put me off because I’m a hermit.
I had to cancel last night because I had a small emotional breakdown.
And like… I invited him out tonight, but do I really want to see him?

I legitimately don’t know if I want to see him. In theory I do. In theory, he’s great and I should be so lucky to find someone with similar interests and a complete disregard for all the borderline threatening things I accidentally say. In practice, I kind of just want to go back to no one having any kind of interest in me at all. I like when he texts me. I like that he likes me. I like that he points out when I say something serial killery and laughs. I like that he wanted to walk around downtown with me in the cold. I like that he saved me from an elevator. I like that he danced with me on our first date. I like that he was so embarrassed for me to see his house because it was messy.

I just… don’t know if that’s liking HIM, or just those moments and characteristics.

It’s a weird feeling.