In the midst of our relationship, an ex once asked me if I was staying with him just to prove to everyone that I could actually do it. After I got over feeling offended, I felt exposed. Kind of like that feeling you get when you slip into one of those hospital gowns with the gaping hole in the back. Clearly, the guy had some insights—or I was just that transparent. Either way, I’ve had a few failed relationships. Wait, let me take that back. Who in the hell decided using the word ‘failed’ was appropriate when referring to relationships anyway? I mean, it’s not like we’re talking about high school calculus, which I may have actually failed—had I taken it. Anyway, I prefer to think of past relationships as essential learning experiences.
No matter, I’m thirty-two and have had it up to my plucked eyebrows with learning. I’ve never wanted a relationship as badly as I do now. This is laughable because I’ve never been one of those girls who dreamed of having a hubby and kiddies by her side. I was the one roaming the world, exploring different countries and lunging from state to state, never getting very comfortable. Either way, I’m ready to settle, but I’m not willing to settle. I’ve been leaping from one dysfunctional relationship to the next since I can remember. They’re all I know, so it’s kind of hard to search for something healthy. It’s like telling an alien to go pick you a sunflower. The little bugger would probably come back clutching a bowling ball in his slimy webbed fists. All I’m saying is, it’s hard to know what to look for when you’ve never seen it. A sister needs a little help, you know.
Not too long ago, I was in one of those bipolar relationships. You know the kind, one week you’re checking out engagement rings and the next you’re throwing your house keys back at each another. It was all the things chaotic relationships are: passionate, messy, loving, confusing, and exciting. Pretty good advertising, huh? I almost made you want to go out and get one for yourself, didn’t I? Well, I haven’t gotten to the exhausting part yet. Unless you’re hopped up on steroids, there’s no way you can survive an emotionally effed-up relationship. It will slowly and slyly siphon every bit of energy you have, leaving you deflated like a pair of freshly nursed boobs.
My relationship ended because we needed different things. One of us needed more, the other less. One of us wanted to move fast, the other wanted to go slow. There was no way we could meet in the middle, unless maybe we connected ourselves with an extension cord or something. In the throws of it, it felt like a pretty solid “thing” we had, but after being out of it for awhile and having a chance to evaluate, I realized what we had was pretty empty. I mean, you can’t fill an airplane’s tank when it’s flying 600 MPH, right?
So another break-up down and out of the way, and I’m finding them to be quite similar to getting my lady flower waxed. They’re both one hell of a pain in the ass, but sting a bit less each time. I guess it’s just preparing and bracing yourself for what’s coming and knowing that even though a part of you is going to get ripped off, a stronger part of you is lurking just below the surface and itching to reveal itself.
