I didn't really expand on my current state in the last blog because the title was Pauly Shore's Birthday Party, not Jeff Grapples With Single Life and His Insecurities. So that's what this entry is going to be about.
Right now I'm stuck in that post-relationship period where you begin to realize you're not as appealing as you thought you were, where all the girls you thought you could get turn out to be girls that don't exist. See, when you're in a relationship, every girl that smiles at you, that touches you, that laughs at something you say, is a girl that wants to sleep with you. A could've-had. You tally them up in your head like an invoice and you resent your girlfriend for the ass she's costing you.
When you're free, you realize that a lot of the could've-hads are never-hads. Figments of a well-nourished, pussy-driven imagination. We're all pimps when we're getting laid.
Being in Los Angeles doesn't make things easier. All the money, cars, fame -- they wear you down. After a while you start to feel like Turtle on Entourage. If he wasn't friends with Vinny Chase. The gym is packed with light-eyed, perfect-jawed guys who get paid for being born that way. Yes, most of them are probably gay, but it doesn't matter because women don't default to normal-looking straight guys when faced with handsome gayness. They just lament the gayness.
Some of these guys are straight though, and oh how it hurts when they are.
"Oh, he's beautiful! He is SO beautiful."
Translation: You are not beautiful.
I like to tell myself that these guys have nothing upstairs, no substance, but somehow I think that's a plus in this city. Who needs brains when you can eat sushi and have sex? Possibly without taking your sunglasses off.
Sometimes I catch myself looking in the mirror.
When you're in a relationship it doesn't matter what you look like. Your imperfections are embraced, appreciated. When you're single you feel like your imperfections are holding you back. The same nose that my girlfriend loved is the same nose that may prevent me from meeting the next one.
We're amicable, by the way. Most days we talk. Some days we don't. Some days I'm tempted to delete her number from my phone and never talk to her again. Other days I want to tell her how much I miss her. Sometimes I do.
"I wish you wouldn't say that..."
For now I'm the guy at the bar. I aim low for the most part. I hear that I need to be more confident.
"Be like Nathan."
"Nate used to model. His girlfriend is on Nip/Tuck."
"Then be like Nick."
"Nick used to bang his girlfriends' mothers back in high school."
I didn't feel a vagina until 11th grade.
I find myself overanalyzing women. Did she smile to be friendly or did she smile because she's attracted to me and can see herself with me and wants me to engage her in conversation? Did she touch my arm because she likes me or did she touch it because I have a big arm? I'm looking for signals in every look, scratch, blink. She looked at me for a second longer than she needed to. That means she wants sex, right?
I've been told I'm too goofy, too nice. I'm strongly considering not smiling for a week just to see how things go. Maybe I won't say hi to anyone either. Make myself mysterious, you know? Or is that too much? Maybe I'll say hi to every third person. Or just nod at them.
Maybe I should not be myself for awhile.