So I think it's funny that most of my friends come for me for advice when, in reality, I hide under a thin veil of normalcy and pretend that I'm not just as bat-shit crazy as the rest of them.
I give good advice though, and sometimes I'm even dumbfounded at the psychological gold that comes out of my mouth and I think, "holy shit did I really just say that?" Did I really just say, "figure out what you're doing that's contributing to your long-term happiness, and what you're doing that's contributing to your short-term happiness. If those two things are the same, then you're doing pretty good for yourself." I should win a god-damned award.
We all get fucking bored out of our minds, and we do stupid shit when we are bored. The problem with living where I live, and seeing the same assholes everyday, is that we lower our standards to accommodate the people around us instead of trying to dig ourselves out of this cesspool and try to actually meet some decent people who aren't knuckle-dragging mouth-breathers, who have some brains, some sex-appeal, and some sort of contribution to the betterment of society. Problem is, no one feels like looking for this. Except me.
I recently got out of a whirlwind crazy fucking twilight zone relationship, that lasted entirely too long, that no number of double-vodka cranberries could fix. "I swear to god I am never dating anyone ever again." Yeah that lasted all of two months. Then I met the man of my dreams. I met him and I'm not going to fuck this one up.
Then he moved. He moved to LA two weeks after we started dating, and my brain is pretending it's on a Gravitron spinning at 100 miles an hour waiting for the ride to stop so it can throw up. I try keeping my cool, but my heart just longs for him... to hear his voice... to feel his touch. I make myself want to vomit saying that.
Keep yourself busy. I can hear his voice saying those words over and over in my head. That's what we both decided would be best. It's hard to pretend that work and school and friends is giving my life the same meaning as sitting on my bed, talking about philosophy and sex and science and the meaning of life with him. No rush. No rush at all. I am not going to fuck this one up remember? He is coming back for me after all in a few months, right? In the meantime, I have to give advice to my friends, when my own body feels like disemboweling itself.
I have to be there for them, who thoroughly remind me that I am about as sane as the god damned Mother Theresa. If there is a hell, I am going there solely based on that sentence. My friends. Oh my friends. How equally crazy they all are. They all have their shortcomings when it comes to relationships, and a couple in particular just keep getting bored.
What I said earlier about being bored, is that in this town... there is not much to choose from except your exes, or someone else's exes. When settling down really means settling. It's easy to fall into the same trap of someone who used to put his penis in your vagina, who has a completely acidic personality but whilst in the heat of the moment you forget about the screaming fits and cellphone throwing that has ensued over the couple years of "dating," and once again you feel some sliver of sexual desire and risk your sanity for "one more night" of a passionate fuck-fest. Only to cry and hate yourself in the morning. Why do my friends do this? Is it really that hard to be happy alone? Do they think the guy is going to have some epiphany and start worshiping the very ground you walk on and treat the vagina like a temple? Fuck no they aren't. He's going to go home, fuck his new girlfriend when she gets back in town, and forget you ever existed. And you're going to lay there, crying in your pillow, reaching in for handfuls of Norcos and then washing his filth out of your vagina, swearing that you'll never give in to him again... until Friday night rolls around, and you realize that once again -- you're bored.
Currently I am fighting this boredom, problem is... I don't have anyone out there that I would want to fuck even with someone else's vagina. This town makes me want to gag myself with a spoon. I guess that's what porn is for. At least I don't have to worry about some asshat in my bed with me, snoring into my ear and farting in his sleep... all of those things added in to the equation severely lower the amount of sexual desire that tries to cling on. But they're all dudes. And all dudes are mainly pretty fucking dude-like and will fart in the bed and they will snore in your ear and they will laugh at stupid shit and stare at boobs and slap your ass and want you to make them a sandwich and want to fuck in the morning when you smell and look like shit.. but they don't care because their dick is hard and they would probably fuck a warm piece of playdough if they were desperate enough.
Anyway, guys are like this. Except mine. And that's why I'm fine with waiting for my man to come back from LA. And that is why I won't let myself get bored.
Maybe I'm not so bat-shit crazy after all.
