And One Day She Stopped

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I have a boyfriend.

This may be nothing amazing in developments for Mankind, but for anyone who knows me, it is nothing short of incredible.
Or maybe it’s not.
Maybe it’s just mind-blowing to me.

You see, I haven’t had a boyfriend in a very long time. Instead, I mostly dated a string of assholes or, now that I’m older and have more objectivity I can say, “gentlemen who were not interested in me enough to date me and/or not at a place in their life where they were able to satisfy my dating needs or any other person’s dating needs”.

I dated the sort of guys that kind of said they “didn’t want to date anyone right now” but that didn’t stop them for getting all up in your grill like they were super interested in you, then disappearing, confusing the living shit out of you even though you should have been wise enough to decipher that “they don’t want to date anyone right now” really meant “THEY DON’T WANT TO DATE ANYONE RIGHT NOW” and that’s why they disappeared, duh.

I was twenty-something and they were twenty-something and I’ve learned to chalk it up as two twenty-somethings being twenty-something. However, a part of me thinks it all seemed obvious, but for some reason I was completely dim-witted about the sort of guys I went after time and time again. After seeing my younger girl friends going through the same issue (and some a few older), I’m happy to understand that it wasn’t just me. That I wasn’t the sole relatively smart girl that was making dumbass mistakes in dating. I even wrote an article about this recently titled ‘Girls Are Crazy Until They Reach the Age of 26‘ where I discuss how the modern young lad can act kind of desperate when it comes to dating. Why do smart, pretty, and interesting girls date losers that treat them like poo?

Gosh, thinking back on it now, I seriously want to slap the living shit out of my younger self. It seemed like the more uninterested you were in me, the more interested I was in you. There was the guy who “wanted to date other people” while dating me. There was the guy who told me not to tell his parents that I didn’t graduate college and worked in Hollywood. There was the guy who said he wanted to date me, then freaked out when he thought it meant giving up his cocaine-lifestyle I didn’t even know about. My Mom would say this behavior was because I had “daddy issues” since my father left home when I was young girl. I’m going to stick with this answer so I don’t have to actually be held accountable for my own blockhead behavior.

But something interesting happens as you get older, one day you just stop acting that way. It’s subconscious flip of the switch you didn’t even know happened until you find yourself dating the most amazing person on the planet. The sort of person you never thought you’d meet. You figured you were doomed to this terrible repetitious behavior of picking out turds for the rest of your life. That you were left to writing blog posts wondering what love must feel like instead of writing blog posts gushing over your boyfriend (sorry for the saccharine, guys).

And so this is the sort of guy I finally met: Last night I crashed hard on the couch in my boyfriend’s home office, like I often do during the week. Typically it’s difficult to move me, I’ve been told. My boyfriend will try to coax me off the couch to come to bed, I’ll mumble something incoherent, then roll over. My boyfriend also knows that I often wake up later in the middle of the night with minor panic attacks. He’s been very patient and understanding of this. So, last night my boyfriend laid down on the god damn bare floor next to the couch so I wouldn’t be frightened when I finally decided to wake up.

Now you know why I’m pretty mind blown.