Saturday, March 7, 2009
I refuse to be in a relationship. I've already had all my eggs in a basket and that basket broke and those eggs shattered. The last thing I need right now is another basket.
I'm well aware that my situation is the beginning of a character arc you'd see in a shitty romcom:: Matthew McConaughey was left at the altar by a one-dimensional bitch he never should've been with in the first place and now he's afraid to fall in love again. But through a series of quirky moments and wacky misadventures with Kate Hudson (and perhaps a montage or two), he learns to open up and leave his past behind. Twenty-million dollar opening weekend. DVD on the shelf of every girl who owns a pair of Pink sweatpants.
I'm not really afraid to fall in love again, though. I just don't want to. Why should I? I'm 25. I'm out here to do something with myself. Things aren't exactly going to last anyway, so why bother? It's a bad investment.
But feelings creep. You can tamper with them all you want; they'll remain.
I try to ignore them. Sad, right? There's always that scene at the end of the second act where the best friend tells the protagonist to stop being a pussy, to not make the same mistakes he did. Or where the parent or grandparent or a misunderstood elder is wistful about the one that got away. The protagonist then realizes the error of his ways and spends the third act trying to get the girl back. This usually involves running of some sort. Add rain to make it more dramatic.
Hollywood peddles this everyone-falls-in-love fantasy, this notion that there's someone out there for everyone. It's romantic and it sells tickets. We confuse it with reality, though. I feel like I can conquer the world after I watch Rocky. Do girls feel like they can get a boyfriend after they watch 27 Dresses?
Most of us will not find "the one". We'll find someone who's tolerable and adapt to them. That's if we're lucky. There are thousands of fat black women in America. Thousands of short Asian men. The only shot most of them have is pairing up. So should we think of them when we find someone that shows promise? It's like finishing your dinner because there are starving kids in Africa.
"You better stay with that girl. There are fat black women who have nobody."
Too often we settle. I've been told I'm afraid to be with someone, but I think it's the other way around. I think people are afraid to be alone.
Time is easier to kill when you have company. But that's what pets are for.
I'm not a fan of a girl's expectations. TV and movies have conditioned them to expect the world from a guy who eats most of his meals out of a microwave. When I dated Richelle, the girl after Kimi, she criticized me for not being romantic enough.
"I was watching the Bachelor with my mom and..."
"... you've never done anything like that for me."
"What, given you a flower and gone on a televised boat ride?"
It's not enough to have a good time with a girl. Lay around on the couch. Laugh. Goof off. Maybe have sex. No. You have to keep up with what's being broadcasted. All those trite scenarios concocted by writers, that's all the shit you're supposed to be doing. A girl is special when she doesn't expect you to compete with shit she reads in Cosmo.
As I've written before, I believe romance is in the little things. The last French fry. The big t-shirt. The slightly overcooked eggs in the morning. Rose petals in the bathtub are for R&B videos that are more about loving and less about fucking.
The feelings are still there, though. I've locked myself into this Catch 22, where the girl knows I'm guarded and closed off and we keep hanging out and seeing each other and I do gradually begin to let loose a little. But in that time the girl and I are together, she's out on dates with other guys who might commit, who are open to the boyfriend/girlfriend label. Because that's what girls want: labels.
"What are we? What is this?"
They don't care if the product is shit; they just want the guarantee on the box. So, basically, when I'm ready, she's already moved on, and I'm left feeling hurt and rejected all over again with more of a shield than I had before.
And so here I am, alone. I've brought it on myself -- the result of my not opening up. Call it a fear all you want. I'm just playing it safe.
Maybe my outlook will change at the end of the second act.