Ah finally, a little while to sit alone and write up a post I’ve been mulling over for a month or so. Nate and Sami are out and about, and I have the topic freshly stirred up in the mud water in my head.
Women folk. What a general mine field you ladies are. A lovely, confusing, adorable, heart wrenching minefield of love and hate and all sorts of mushy emotions that do things inside me I am not at all comfortable expressing. I posted some pictures of Sarah, my vampire lady friend at Halloween, on my last blog. We’re freshly dating, and it’s great. And awful. But still great. I don’t get to see her very often because she lives three and a half hours away on the coast. She used to live here, and says she wants to move back when she gets up some money, but I take all that with a grain of salt.
She came up over the weekend because her friend had to go to the N.C. Museum of Art for a class project, and that’s right here in good ‘ol Raleigh. I actually enjoy the museum, but I’ve been there a bunch of times already, and unless you fork out dough to go see the special exhibits, it’s always the same. Still, it’s cool to look at Monet’s and egyptian sarcophagus’ (sarcophagi?) and ancient greek statues and all that good shit.
Now I was pleasantly surprised when I first realized that Sarah was interested in me. My life hasn’t exactly been one long Motley Crue song, you know? When I was younger, I was just a total dork. I was happy as a dork, but chicks don’t start liking dorks until some time around college. Then in high school I broke out of my shell and mastered the art of the party. So from then on I was everybody’s friend, but never anyone’s girlfriend. Every year or so some naive chick who didn’t know me very well would get interested, and we’d date once or twice, but I never made any relationship last more than three weeks until recently.
My last girlfriend was quite an interesting experience. I actually went on a blind date with her because my good friend Angry Johny Boulders told me he didn’t think I could handle her. And of course I had to prove him wrong, it’s a family trait. My brother Nate started dating his wife because someone in their class said he could never get a girl like her. Never start a pissing contest with my family, we will win. But back to the last woman to leave me, she was a real pistol. She was wild and had a very strong and opinionated personality. She was a yankee who had lived in NY City and picked up all the in your face attitude that comes along with their culture. And she was a bank manager, so she was pretty classy too. We were sort of an odd couple. The construction worker and the banker. The southern man and the yankee.
It was a two month whirlwind relationship, but every bit as slam packed with drama and emotions as anyone could boast. I really loved her, and it cut me deep when she left me. She left me unexpectedly, after a special evening I had spent days in preparation for, and with no real reason for doing so. That was a little over six months ago and still to this day I get upset thinking about it. She hurt me. Bad. I joke around about men being born without tear ducts, and being incapable of feeling pain, but the truth is that women can hurt us very very badly, and because we never talk about any of it, it stays with us for a very long time.
So after that I attempted to date a few women, and failed miserably every time. I was feeling pretty low after another cold rejection, and here comes Sarah waltzing into my life. And we hit it off really well, and now we’re dating, but I know there are clouds just over the horizon. I can already see the warning signs of a crappy relationship followed by a painful break up. And I’m trying not to get too attached to this chick, but I’ve never been any good at that.
She’s beautiful and fun. She’s as wild and uncontrollable as any man could ever ask for. (I don’t like my women demure, I like a woman who can challenge my own personality) She makes me laugh, and not a lot of women can do that. And she knows how to work what her mama gave her. She’s clearly got me madly in lust. Even my dumb ass can see that. She can be sweet, when she feels like it, but she is also tough as nails. She’s not scared of anything. She isn’t offended by anything I say. (yet, but I would be able to tell if she were sensitive to my particular brand of bull shit by now) She has a lot of really good traits, but there’s also a truck load of (potentially) bad ones.
She can be self centered, and I don’t want a one way relationship. She can be shallow, and I want someone who’s at least half way deep. She uses drugs and drinks like I did back in my really wild days. (yes, I’m a lot less crazy than I used to be) And that will make it harder for me to pursue sobriety. She’s fucked a lot of guys, and I really don’t want to get cheated on. And she can be a total bitch, and I bristle up at the hint of bitchiness, which will probably make for some stellar fights.
Plus she likes pointy shoes and rap, but that’s not really such a big deal. But seriously, she learned the Soulja Boy dance. What the fuck? That’s just lame. I’m sorry, but for real, that’s lame as all hell.
I know all this and I’m cool with it. Because I really want a woman in my life. Even if I have to deal with a problematic one. Maybe one day I will find some amazing woman who is perfect for me and all that shit, but I doubt it. If life has taught me anything from experience it’s that I have to take what I can get and work with it or go without. Maybe everything will work out great and I’ll become some rediculously happy married dude who stays home all the time to chill with his old lady. But I doubt it. What I really think is going to happen is that I’ll have a lot of fun, for a little while. And eventually one of us will get sick and tired of the other one and the relationship will end in an explosive deluge of insults and tears. But I’m gonna ride that wave of fun straight onto the burning shores of misery because, what the hell, I just really like having fun. And I would rather trade pain for fun, than take safety and boredom and loneliness. And if I’m really honest with myself, I really like her too. Dammit.