Dear readers,
You've read a lot of whiny and bitchy posts from me. You're probably thinking "Oh, poor Dating Aficionado. What a damsel in distress. Sounds like she's gotten screwed over so many times."
It's more natural to write about being screwed over than to penn stories about screwing over others. But it's time I come clean about my own hamartia, the very same hamartia that possibly lead to the vicissitude in my dating luck.
My high school English teacher once nicknamed me, "Maneater." Like gum stuck to curly hair, the monicker stuck to me, and I was not upset at all. On the contrary, I'd saunter through our rowdy school halls, bloated on the power I amassed from breaking boys' then-innocent hearts. Like other dictators, my reign of power continued for far too long, through my collegiate years and into my mid twenties.
Karma had always left my destructive, immature heart untouched, but 1.5 years ago, its serpent head started spewing poison all over my dating life. Yes I had been wronged here and there before, but this was unlike anything before. Karma's fang-toothed monsters started hacking off the promise of anything good and lasting.
Here is an expose into some of the wrongs I've committed.
My Longest Relationship, the Austrian/Frenchman, and the Floridian Religious Nut
A long time ago, I dated a wonderful man. He was a decade older than me, the son of a diplomat, well-cultured, attractive, and was a hit with the ladies. He paid for extravagant trips to Hawaii, Vegas, Napa, etc. But beyond the money, he was a kind, caring and intelligent soul. But I was 22 and a FUCKING MORON. "Oh I don't want a relationship. What if I want to move to Argentina one day?" I didn't and I won't ever move to Argentina. What accelerated the permanent fracture of my longest romantic relation was the allure of another guy from work. A few days after I broke up with Mr. Cultured, I started dating the religious nut from Florida who I also devirginised. It was quite callous of me to cut off all contact with Mr. Cultured and devote my affection to somebody else a mere 72 hours later. I still sigh with regret when I realise I dated the son of a pastor, an uber American who was also an uber dork, instead of continuing a relation with an amazing guy. My mother and sister still won't let me live this one down. Ironically, Mr. Cultured now lives in Argentina with his Argentine girlfriend or fiance or who the hell knows. (He hates me).
Frat Boy & Frat Pres
You know those huge rotating brush thingies at car washes that turbo clean your car and sound like they're going to eat you for dessert? That was me in college. Only instead of car washes, there were frat parties, and instead of suds of soap, there were tequila shots. I became friends with a very nice boy in a frat. I knew he liked me. I was hot and cold, I led him on, I ignored him, etc. Then I started a casual fling with somebody else in the frat, but not just anybody else, the president of the fraternity. Once, I came to a party Nice Frat Boy invited me to but ended up hooking up with Evil Frat Pres instead. Tried to sneak out successfully the next morning but someone saw me. Sigh, I should've been in a sorority. On a side note, Evil Frat Pres deserves its own blog post to recount the tale of our interactions, fraught with a persistent stalker, a suicidal ex-girlfriend and frat bro spies.
I could go on and on. I've ignored countless guys' messages. I've emotionally torn down my boyfriends. I left a guy in Vegas to hook up with another British guy. I then ignored said British guy when he came to San Francisco. I've done some unspeakable things that I don't think I could even admit to you dear readers. I almost backed out of a romantic trip to the Caribbean while at the airport. This was last summer. So sorry! (I did end up going though).
Anyway, you get the picture. I will tell one last story before I repent.
The Kind Rocket Scientist
On a trip to Yosemite, I made the acquaintance of a nice, outdoorsy rocket scientist. At the time I thought he had a girlfriend so I stayed away. A week later, I received a much unexpected email from him that it was nice to meet me and that it would be great to hang out again. He did not have a girlfriend. From that point on, we chatted extensively every day through email, text, and later, Skype. One day I became disinterested. I ignored his texts. I'd respond to one here and there but he smelled something fishy. I finally told him that I wasn't over my ex and needed space, which was accurate. Now, I think I'm just not that into him. Do I feel bad that I've completely cut off communication with someone who used to message me day and night, and make sure I had a text in my inbox when I woke up in the morning? Yes, I do. Partially because he is so sweet and I know he would love to hear from me, but also partially because a guy from Chicago has just done the same thing to me.
Shit, that ended with me being the victim. Ok, one last story where I am the villain.
Portuguese Salsa Guy
I heart salsa dancing. For a few months back in 2011, I consistently attended salsa classes and salsa clubs here in SF. I met a guy from Portugal who was very into me so I invited him to New Years in LA with my friends. A couple of days before New Years, detachment and disinterest came to visit me like clockwork. Too bad, his plane ticket was already booked and I had no out. At this huge rave in LA, I basically ignored him for the second half of the party, met another guy and partied with him instead. Nothing really happened with Cute Trainer Dude until Salsa Guy decided to head to the airport early and get on another flight back to SF. It turns out that Salsa Guy had no clue that I was ignoring him because I was more focused on Cute Trainer Dude. His reason for leaving early had to do with his inability to deal with the mental consequences of too much raving. Upon arrival back to SF, he thought he had to apologise TO ME for leaving early and acting strangely. Ha! Little he know, I didn't care and I had my tongue down some other guy's throat. He also had something of mine he had return but I became so inexplicably appalled by Portuguese Salsa Guy that I completely denied him of any face to face interaction. I made him leave my stuff outside his door and ignored his dozens of texts, calls and even drivebys. Wow, I was a beotch. Portuguese Salsa Guy was actually a nice, cute, smart guy. Really sorry guy. But don't worry, I rejected Trainer Dude as well.
I'm not this awful person anymore. I've learned my lessons. I don't ignore people. It's hurtful. I tell the truth. Telling the truth is hardest thing to do sometimes. I'm niceish. I give people chances. I treat people with respect. But I am still picky. So yes, I will continue rejecting guys, but not because they're not awesome in their own way, but because they're just not right for me.
There ya have it. Some of my dirty laundry. Stay tuned for the next blog post where I might reveal the ACTUAL name of my recent ex, Shithead von McAsshat.
XOXO,
Dating Aficionado
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