Thanks for Playing

I believe I’ve mentioned (a couple of times) “the fellow I’m seeing”. Well, I’m not seeing him anymore. Just wanted to get that off my mind…

We broke up in a very friendly manner. I said, “Thanks for playing.” He said, “Thanks for not freaking out.” He seemed surprised that I was comfortable with it and smiling not thirty seconds after (well, after all, we were horribly wrong for each other. The Savior Complex thing, as I predicted, has failed again). I told him I still expect to see him at my birthday celebration later in the month. Then we talked for about an hour (about movies and television and past relationships and the like), and he went on his merry way. I have every intention of retaining him as a friend.

That’s probably not how break-ups are supposed to go. I don’t have much experience with them. I’ve never been dumped before (as my newly-ex would say, “There’s a first time for everything”). And I’ve only had the one other break-up experience (which was exactly four months before this one… Perhaps this is the beginning of a pattern… Making mental note about the 9th of the month. After all, the 29th seems to be a good day for my love-life, so it stands to reason that there should be a day to counter that… the 9th seems as good a candidate as any).

I’ve always thought that if I were broken up with that I would say, “Thanks for playing” and move on (although I didn’t think I’d literally say that… which it turns out, I did). After all, why would you want to be dating someone who didn’t want to be dating you? It’s obvious that there are better people out there. It’s not something to get upset over. “Better luck next time. Please try again.”

So don’t worry about me. I’m fine. Really. And I promise I’m not just saying that. I may have been broken up with, but I'm not broken.

Someone once told me (actually, it was my newly-ex testing the waters after I’d broken up with my previous ex) that it takes half the length of a relationship to gain closure. Obviously, I don’t believe that (or else I would’ve waited a year to start dating again after the previous ex), but there should at least be a short period of readjustment before heading back to the market. A couple of weeks, perhaps. I need get used to the idea of being in The Single & Fabulous Club again before I go hurl myself toward my next foray into dating… Don’t I?

Less than three hours after being dumped (I don’t know if I should even call it “being dumped”… He initiated it, but the feelings were mutual), I was asked out on a date. I think that’s pretty impressive. And about twelve hours after that, I received an invitation to drinks by another guy. My cup runneth over.

Why is it that the moment I get out of a relationship, men start knocking down my door? You’d think that guys would stay away from someone who has just gone through a break-up in order to avoid becoming a rebound. You’d think they’d make an assumption about me having fresh wounds and emotional baggage. But no. They flock to me. As I’ve said before, apparently males are buzzards, waiting around for relationships to die so they can swoop down and pick up whatever looks salvageable.

After my last break-up, I started a list of the males who had hit on me. I made the list in order to remind myself that I am desirable, and that I am, apparently, worth waiting for (as several of them had been waiting around for my relationship to end). Within a couple of weeks of becoming single, twenty-one (21!) different guys had made the list (keep in mind, I’m rather dense about flirting, and I am often informed by friends that people were trying to pick me up after the fact… so this list is only people that hit on me hard enough for me to notice… There may have been others). Of those, five asked me out (and two others said that they would’ve asked me out if they had lived in the same state as me). I went out with three of them, and one of them stuck (he was #9 of 21, for the record), for a little while anyway.

Maybe it’s just a coincidence and has nothing to do with the break-ups. Maybe I just have blinders on when I am, to use a word and a notion that I dislike, “taken”. Or perhaps it is immediately after a relationship that I am, for whatever reason, at my most desirable. Fresh, free, and open to a world of possibilities. Maybe that’s when my juice is flowing the easiest. (I use the word “juice” interchangeably with “mojo”, hoping that both mean something along the lines of “desirability” or “ability to entice members of the opposite sex into attempting to seduce oneself”… I don’t know if that’s proper, established slang or if I concocted it somewhere along the line and have merely convinced myself that it’s an accepted, understandable usage. Part of me likes to think that I coined it. But most of me prefers to think that when I speak/type, people are able to understand it… If you have any insight on this, please leave it in my comments section). It seems, at the moment, I have juice.

I love the feeling you get right at the onset of dating a new person. Everything is a new, exciting adventure. You’re not sure how to handle it, or which way to turn. It seems like the perfect time to be passionate, impulsive, and carefree. I love the moments when you wonder if you’re going to touch. I love gauging reactions to seemingly innocuous details that are tossed into conversations. I love wondering whether he’s as into me as I am into him. And I love being confident that I’ll get to experience that again… eventually.

Someone once said to me, “Some girls you date, some girls you marry. You’re the kind of girl that guys want to marry. That’s why you don’t date.” (Of course, that was before my long courtship with ex #1 began.) Sometimes I ponder this thought at length. I suppose I am the sort of female that you could take home to meet your parents without much worry. Am I the kind of gal that fellows wish to wed?

This could present a fairly large problem… You see, I don’t know if I ever want to get married. I could see myself living a long, happy, fulfilling life as a completely independent woman (To quote The Bangles, “Single by choice/Never marry, never ever divorce”). I could also see myself falling into a sort of Goldie Hawn/Kurt Russell common-law marriage. It seems more like a choice that way, instead of a legally-binding contract.

I, apparently, have commitment issues. I feel trapped by relationships. Perhaps the reason I’m not too broken up about this recent one ending is that I never fully put myself into it (even in my blog, where I have full reign over what is said, I never called him by the dreaded B-word: boyfriend). I want an escape clause. I want an ejector seat. I want a back-up plan. I don’t believe in divorce, but I don’t want to be dealing with a mistake for the rest of my life. So perhaps the answer to not believing in divorce is to stop believing in marriage. I mean, it’s great for other people, but I’m not sure it’s right for me. My mother says that she’d rather see me common-law married than alone. But is being a confirmed bachelorette (or a priest, monk, nun, or consecrated virgin, for that matter… If you don’t know what a C.V. is, look it up) really being alone? How is it different from what I’m doing now? I spent the first twenty years of my life being single. It’s not a bad way to be.

But for now, I’m not going to worry about getting into or out of relationships. I’m just going to sit back and enjoy being single, for however long that may last.

May your relationships always come in like a lion and go out like a lamb.

~A~