For all my talk about dating and being in a relationship, I wonder if I actually even want to be in one at all. I like the idea in theory, but I’m so out of practice, I could be wrong. I mean I have a routine. It’s my way or the highway and if you choose the highway I’ll run you over with my car. I like the way things are now. If I brought someone else in then I’d probably have to accommodate them and I don’t want to do that.
But more importantly, I do not like sharing the bed. I move around a lot and like to sprawl, probably because I overheat easily.If I can’t even share a bed, how can I share my life??
I haven’t even lived in the same place for more than a year since I turned 18 seven years ago. Different dorms, different universities, different apartments. Everything was in a constant state of flux, but I think I wouldn’t have minded staying in the same place for a couple of years. The only problem was the roommate situation.
There is nothing inherently good about living with someone else. Best case scenario is that they have nice stuff they’ll share with you. Unless of course YOU are the one sharing and THEY are taking. And taking. Andtakingandtakingandtaking and never giving back.
But that’s not even so bad. The worst thing about living with someone else is that they’re around whenever they want. Even if you don’t want. And I rarely want. The longest I’ve lived with another person is two years. It only happened once, against my better judgment, and it was awful.
The only person I can count on is my cat.
But even our relationship is precarious at best. Like when she’s meowing at me to pet her and love her but I’m trying to focus on finishing my large cheese pizza. But it’s also pretty annoying when she shits on my carpet and pees on my bed.
Ok I mean that bed peeing thing only happened the first couple of months that I got her. But I was ready to turn her out on the streets. Honestly, one of the reasons why I got her instead of a kitten is because she’s old and I know she’ll die in a reasonable amount of time. Like 5 years tops.
How people my age are already reproducing ON PURPOSE is beyond me.
AND THEN, just when I think I have it all figured out, some unreasonably hot guy strikes up a conversation with me at the grocery store as the sweat from my workout is drying and a new sweat mustache is forming. I’d forgotten a bobby pin so my bangs are all askew and I’m wearing my glasses, my makeup basically all melted off at that point.
I basically looked like a monster.
For some reason he asked for my number and then actually used it.
I don’t know. I don’t get it. I give up.