Ever since I started dating again, I’ve been a little boy-crazy.
This kind of makes me feel like a total F.A.B. (that’s fake ass bitch, for those of you who don’t speak in abbrevi-gay-tions), because I just spent a whole eight months being all “I love me!” and believing that I don’t need a man to be happy.
But then I met one that I kind of like, and then we crossed a few lines, and then I slightly regretted it because we live far away from each other, and then I kind of became my old, obsessive ohmigod-why-hasn’t-he-texted-me-in-five-hours?! self, and then I started talking to a bunch of other dudes in an effort to not get too invested in Far-Away Guy, and then Far-Away Guy went on vacation, and then he came back and still didn’t text me, and then I almost slept with a woman.
The above series of events has, of course, led to a few questions—the biggest one being: If I’m so self-fulfilled, then why the hell am I acting like a crazy, desperate, single person again?
Oh, wait. Were you expecting the biggest question to be something more like, How did Nic, the most man-loving man ever, almost sleep with a woman?—because I just realized that would probably be mine if I weren’t me.
But the story behind that situation is really quite simple: We were both drinking heavily at a straight bar, she kept saying things like, “You’re the hottest guy here; are you SURE you’re gay?” and I of course kept eating it up and leading her on, because validation. Then we danced sexually all night long and started to go back to her place under the heading of “Let’s just get naked and see what happens!” until we both finally came to our senses and were like, “WHOA, I’M NOT A LESBIAN,” at the same time. Or something. I think that’s how it went down, but I can’t be one hundred percent sure, and that’s probably for the best.
Anyway—back to discussing why my newly enlightened self has regressed back to being Taylor Swift. I’ve thought about it for a few days now, and I think my ultimate conclusion is this: I’m allowed to have good days and bad days, because the journey to self-love is ongoing. Also, love does eventually need to be exchanged. Also, sex. Also, human nature. Also, I’m awesome.
And so I’ve decided to loosen the grip, chill out on analyzing everything for a hot second, and just make the conscious choice to not act like a crazy, desperate, single person as of right now.
If Far-Away Guy ends up resurfacing and we fall in love and get gay-married and go on a gay-honeymoon in the Maldives, then great! But if he never contacts me again, then… well, I’ll be spared the stress of dealing with a relationship with a man who lives two hours away. Also, I’ll be keeping myself open and available for the real right guy when he comes along.
Actually? I think I almost like the second scenario better. This is pretty much a win-win-win.
(Yes, that was three wins—the third one being that whole “I’m awesome” thing, which I’ve decided kind of needs to be a factor in everything ever from now on. So that in any given win-lose situation, there will always be at least that one guaranteed baseline win no matter what—which, frankly, is awesome. Like me. And you. Because if you’re reading my blog, you should totally adopt that strategy as well. Because you are the most awesome just for being here. Win!)
Lastly, apropos of none of the above, can we take a minute right now and talk about how amazing it is that it’s finally fall again?
Because, um, FOOTBALL!
Here’s a picture of me awkwardly chipmunk-ing at the Patriots home opener last week:
Who wouldn’t want to text that guy?