Beyond the Embarassing Style

I met him at the bar one night. I hate dancing, especially to top 40, unless there's enough room for me bust out crazy dance moves that involve me swinging my hair and my friends getting embarrassed, ANYWAY, I was dancing to top 40, with some really tall guy. Part in the USA came on and he said he secretly loves the song. I had to stop dancing and go for a smoke. He followed. He was good looking, I guess if you like the American Eagle blonde dude. He was really tall, and I like that, at least. So we smoked and talked and it was really cold outside and I lost my friends because they were too busy dancing to top 40, not like idiots. But they found me, because they knew I'd be smoking outside, and told me it was time to go home. Tall boy asked me for my number and I gave it to him because he seemed nice enough. Then he asked me to go home with him to cuddle. Yes, he actually asked me to go cuddle. I have a strict home turf policy, so I said no.

You Look Like I Need a Drink

Some people say that it is important to not limit yourself when it comes to people you date. For example, his teeth might be a little crooked, he always wears campus crew hoodies, and Garth Brooks is his idol... but he's REALLY fucking NICE, and you two have LOTS to talk about, so you should just give him a chance. The chemistry will grow.
WRONG.
Ok, maybe it's right for some people, but it's not right for me. I know what kind of guys I'm attracted to. It's almost as if I have a mental list of things that need to be there, such as:
"alternative" style, a love for rock and roll, a fondness for alcohol, straight teeth, at least 5'11, an excellent comprehension of the conventions of the English language, and he has to be funny as hell. Some things get added and subtracted from this basic list, for example, right now it's necessary that the next guy I date has some kind of body modifications. Tattoos on the arms and stretched ear lobes add 20 points to his score.
I guess you could say I'm shallow, but am I? It's not like I'm looking for an Abercrombie model or anything. It's kind of fun this way, like a scavenger hunt. And it's not as if I'll turn down the perfect guy if he doesn't conform to my ideals. You can never be certain about your perfect guy until you find him.
What I am certain about though, is that when I meet someone, I know INSTANTLY if there's going to be chemistry. And if there's no chemistry right off the bat, then we've got nothing. I'm off to find that guy in the tight pants wearing a leather jacket, blasting the Descendants on his iPod.

Where Does the Good Go?

I really am hopeless. It's 10 pm and he hasn't called. If he does call I know what it will mean. For some reason I put myself in this situation with him over and over. It's really unhealthy. I think I'm in love with him but I think I'm just obsessed. What's wrong with me? I am so fucked up.

I Was On A Mountain

It's been almost a year since my last trip out west. The first time I went to Banff I was there for just a week. Last Christmas break I spent a week in Banff and a week in Canmore. I wish perhaps that circumstances were different on the last trip. My two trips out west were, at least in part, provoked by my then-boyfriends move out west.

The first time he went we were madly in love and I totally understood his need to go: he had been planning on going before we had met and he had to let his free spirit run wild. I could get with that. In fact, his free spirited nature was one of the things I liked about him to begin with. Anyway, we decided that we'd still make an effort to be together (although my efforts far exceeded his) and that I'd make my way down there for reading week. I had so much fun and I was so sad to go after just a week.

Less than a year later, he decides he wants to go away again. This time for longer. He still wants to stay together. He needs to figure his life out. That's what he said last time. Well, he never figured anything out. Stupidly, I went to visit him again, and spent about a thousand bucks on a trip where we fought a lot because it was minus 25 outside every day and I didn't feel like wandering around getting frostbite,  I didn't really feel like having sex with him because he got so clingy when I first showed up, and we spent a week in a hostel sharing a room with two other dudes, and hence the inevitable awkward times.

Electronic Renaissance

 Finally someone who gets it.

What Would Penis Do
How To Break Up
My Darling
I'm Not Going to Think About Her

Hurt Like Mine

When I'm feeling alone, which is usually at night when I realize how empty my bed feels, this is how I feel. I am the box head. My eyes can see everything that's around me but emotionally, I feel like my head is in a box. I can't get out of my head  - my head becomes the box. Nothing makes sense but a recurring chain of irrational thinking. It doesn't stop because my head is in a box.

All I'm Losing is Me

I have this theory about relationships. I think most people have the same kinds of relationships. I might be wrong, and this might be symptomatic of my need to categorize  and over think nearly everything, but when you’re in a group of friends talking about various significant others, invariably someone will say “yeah, that’s just like when I was with so and so.” I think the most common one is the one that hurts most. And it hurts most not because he was a jerk (although he probably was) or because it was long and drawn out. It’s the worst because you make it the worst… because all along you thought it was the best. It’s the relationship where you fall hard, often for the first time. You can’t let go. When shit gets tough you convince yourself that nothing can stop the magical force that is the love between him and you. People lose themselves in this territory. People neglect their own individual self concept and see themselves only in relation to their relationship. And when people do this, they forget about the things that make them super awesome individuals. In the end, this makes the relationship harder because the other might start to dislike you and you start to resent the other for making you this way.

Whatever I Want (Whatever that is)

I have a tendency of liking guys who are faintly aloof when it comes to expressing their emotions, which is strange considering I’m pretty much the opposite of that. In my last relationship, this was our biggest problem. (That, coupled with his inability to commit due to his infantile distaste for stability and responsibility.) So when that was over I decided that it would be really nice to be with someone who gave a shit and let me know he gave a shit. Someone who praised me for my awesomeness.

For quite a while I wondered if I wasn’t as awesome as I had thought. For a long time I was really self conscious and had low self esteem, and even now I have my off days. But for the most part, I think I’m awesome and I wondered why, unlike many of my friends, I’ve never had the super devoted dude. I had been warned by a friend, however, that in reality the situation is not as appealing as I had made it out to be.

If All I Thought Were True

I’m psychic.
I have an uncanny ability to predict my future love interests.
When I was 14 and trying to earn punk points, I just knew that I’d date a dirty Sid Vicious type punk kid who skateboards. And I did.
One day I was at a local show with my crazy punk friends. They were lamenting on how many emo kids there were. While they spat on them, I found the idea of skin tight pants and dyed black hair the hottest thing in the world. So I fell in love with one of those emo kids.
While grieving over the loss of emo boy, I sat in the hallway at school and drew a picture of my future boyfriend and gave my cartoon a persona. He was tall, had shaggy hair, skater clothes and smoked a lot of weed. He was older and had a car. A couple months later I made an exact replica fall in love with me.
Miffed about the precious time I had wasted with stoner skater, I channeled my energy into creating a new boy. In my dreams he had curly hair and blue eyes. He serenaded me with his mellifluous acoustic melodies by day and drank many beers with me at night. He was quiet and thoughtful, a bit of a hippie, with a sweet smile. His real life incarnation had curly hair… dreadlocked curly hair.
As my love for hippie boy hit the rocks, I hoped to meet briefly with someone, with no specifics other than the necessity that he’d be totally enamoured with me, more than I was with him. My friends told me that this idea was silly and that I wouldn’t like it if it actually happened. They were right, it didn’t work out.
So who is next you may ask? I think he has tattoos, maybe piercings too. He’s tall, he has dark, messy hair and light eyes. He watches lots of cartoons. He’s silly and immature on the outside but deeply giving, honest, and ready to take me on.

Documented Minor Emotional Breakdown Part 1

The first person I said “I love you” to, in the romantic sense, was my first real boyfriend. I met him when I was 14 and I was instantly hooked on him. I was going through a rebellious stage (which had never really fizzled out, really), and he was a perfect fit for me. He had spiky hair and lanky limbs and he looked like a 15-year-old Sid Vicious. Even though I was a pink haired, neon bracelet wearing, sad and angsty teenager, it was a welcome thought that someone could “love” me. I don’t think we were ever in love though, because when I met my next boyfriend my world was shook.

One day in the hallway he asked me if I would give him my soul, on paper. He was a weird kid, but so was I. He was funny and smart. He was in a band, which was an extremely attractive quality that I still seek in guys today. We hung out every day at school and on Fridays we would spend our allowance on 40’s of beer and nothing could have made me happier then. But nothing last forever, especially when you’re 16. I don’t even remember why we broke up but it doesn’t matter. He was my first love, and you know what they say about first loves…

You’ll never get over it.

I'm a hopeless romantic

Love comes easily to me. Since I was thirteen, the longest I have been single is about four months and a combined total of about a year. I’m not proud of this. Nor am I proud of the drunken disasters and friendships-made-awkward that are my hapless flings. But now I am single and I plan on being single (save for a few more hapless flings, maybe) for a while, at least until I find someone who outshines all the boys who have been a part of my hopeless romanticism.

Love is what rocks my world. Love is probably what I’m best at. No, I’m not crazy and obsessive, I just really like boys. And no, I’m not trying to be Carrie Bradshaw. I’m more dark and twisty than her, and far less successful. And I’m not a some self important hipster who thinks people care about my (not so) interesting life.

It’s just that... I have all these thoughts and feelings and I want to share them with someone. I’m afraid my friends have grown tired of my addiction to love. And I hope that spilling my guts on the page will help me unravel myself a little.

I am a hopeless romantic.