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Posts Tagged ‘Douche Bag’

I hit the pause button. I didn’t delete my profile, I just deactivated it. The idea of dating right now is exhausting and NOT in that fun and thrilling kind of way. The slew of douche bags (hello fiscally conservative guy who feels put upon by the poor), Utopian seeking (hola neuro surfing Aussie who wants pretty smiles and hot kisses BUT no real life), frigid/fickle-tons (flirting in the last 5 seconds of the date and kissing me ONLY then and never touching me… if you like me, touch me, if you don’t, stop calling me…PLEASE), with crazy ex’s (turns out Virginia’s ex was the cause of his flake…and I thank him, as she might have boiled all of my neighbors pets in a Glenn Close move, had he and I actually successfully gone out again)…. has broken me. I’m broken.

With my stalled career, lack of true income, unresolved health issue, and general malaise regarding being 37 and farther behind than I feel I should…I just can’t fake the dating right now. All I have the energy for is the comfort of old dances and familiar hands, as much as you may disagree, it’s the one solace I have at the moment, and it’s good that it came around when it did, because this is what I need.

 

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It’s Valentine’s Day and I went to sleep at 4 am. I drove to Type Geek’s home last night, dropped off his things, tried to pick up my own and it didn’t happen. He didn’t answer the door, he didn’t answer his phone. I stood, on his porch, in full regalia. Tight charcoal grey dress, fishnets, vintage inspired cream and black t-strap heels, and a push up bra that rivals plastic surgery. Why? Multiple reasons. 1) I was aiming for reaction. I wanted him to see what he was fucking up. 2)I hoped I was wrong. I hoped there was any other explanation for everything and that possibly I would find myself in his arms.

An hour after I left, after picking up Haagen Daaz and sitting down to an ice cream sundae with magic shell,  I received a text. 15 minutes of back and forth texting, I said he owed me at least a 5 minute phone conversation. 40 minutes into that conversation I realized that, in many ways, I was wrong. It truly WASN’T about me, it was all about him and how deeply he is hiding away in his fear. What is he afraid of, I don’t think he even knows. He’s overwhelmed by life, by family, by career and by responsibility, and crippled by it all. This isn’t just about me and my pain. This is also about him and his pain. He apologized for it all, he realized he had no explanations, no excuses that were worth expounding on, in the end, he just chose to put his head down and not see me, rather than look up and at me.

My friends keep chanting, “down with the douche bag.” , but it isn’t that easy, is it? Not when you love someone, not when you find that one person who fits into your puzzle and who you can accept for all his or her scars, faults, fears and baggage and in the end, you can actually see yourself with this person, regardless of all of that. You can see yourself old with them, a lifetime of experiences behind you both, years of joy that reduce the emphasis of the painful moments we all experience as human beings. When you are in love with someone whose broken pieces fit into your missing pieces. Something deep and unexplainable, unreachable, tells me that this man is worth fighting for. I just don’t know what to fight when he doesn’t know why he’s hiding.

In the end, we are final. It is final. Unless another solution to this issue presents itself, my ten months with Type Geek have come to an end. I end this message, on Valentine’s Day, with tears. Tears over what I found, a truly open and aware love that I was unaware I was capable of, and tears over what he and I are losing, collectively.

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What can I say that he doesn’t say himself?! Holy shit, this is ridiculous!!!

UPDATE: Apparently Greg D., the video guru himself, pulled ALL of his videos from YouTube after the ridicule he received from pretty much EVERYONE on the internet. I mean, really, are you suggesting that some douche bag comment on my shoes by teasing me and pretending to be my older brother? Yeah, that is HOT and definetly will get me into your “church pew”, as you like to call it.

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