FACT: Nothing is worth dealing with relationship drama. Not even spectacular sex.
Here's why I decided to break up with the non-boyfriend for good.
Remember when you were an idealist? When spectacular sex was enough make up for otherwise glaring personality and emotional flaws?
Ah, simplicity. If the sex was *better sex* than I was previously having, I could temporarily forgive the fact that you had the personality of a (very sweet) date nut bar. Or the fact that you once called out your mothers name in the middle of the, uh, proceedings.
"That's your trip, baby," gently floating across my mind just before I tuned you out for the next 17-34 minutes depending on how I was feeling that night.
I have put up with some serious eccentricity and dysfunction in the name of a good orgasm.
In college, it was distance. Now, ironically, driving 5-6 hours to fuck someone who remotely knew what they were doing doesn't seem *that* crazy. Just recently, for instance, I was seeing a guy with the perfect curve. This idiot wanted to high-five me afterwards while pointing to himself and bellowing, "I AM THE GREATEST LOVER EVER!" So, I simply sat up and looked for his elbow. Yes, yes. A job well done, indeed. Please stop yelling now.
But every once in a while, a girl just wants something more substantial than a stunt cock. Maybe even a...relationship.
And, these days, it seems that's where shit gets *really* perverse. This is obviously reductive, but there are TWO things you need for a successful relationship:
Chemistry may be an illusive bitch. But timing is a reclusive, alcoholic artist with abandonment issues. All failed relationships are the result of missing one of these two. All of them.
Sadly, the chances of having both is less likely than seeing a mermaid, riding a fucking unicorn whose shitting a rainbow of $100 bills. One of them is always threatening to burn the house down with the matches you left out or move to Rio or lock themselves in their room with all the kitchen knives and a bottle of gin.
Figuratively, of course.
Timing without chemistry deals are typically the benign or unfulfilling ones that range from tolerable to miserable but - phew! - don't result in significant heartbreak one way or the other. Their converse is much, much worse...
FACT: Chemistry without timing is the stuff of fucked-up, love/hate legend.
We've all been there.You know the ones.
These people are the people who will fuck you so well that you start hearing colors...But these same people tell you, straight-faced in the dim, red light of a certain auspiciously-named bar that you SHOULD NOT - definitely not - fall in love with them. I was addicted to this variety of insanity for a long time. Doesn't passion always come with a touch of melodrama?
But I have the scars to show for it. Truth: I once got fired and dumped in a four-hour span. To make matters more absurd, the breakup happened IN A GAY BAR in Silverlake. Somehow, that wasn't enough of an omen for me. The breakup lasted only a very few weeks and let's just say I may have been better off finding a new boyfriend in the gay bar...
But anyway, I'm growing up. Or maybe it's just the ridiculous amount of dollars I've spent on therapy during and since my last tragically failed relationship. It's hard to say. Either way, complicated just doesn't work for me anymore.
I get it, people have issues. Love is a battle field and shit. But i'm just not that into you, sexy purveyors of dramatic non-relationships. That's your trip, baby. I'd rather drink alone. Now if you'll excuse me, that seat you're sitting in...it's taken.
I could use a quote from the Sex and the City* series finale or Girls** to describe the feeling of walking away from my latest, super-awesome-yet-not-exactly-there non-boyfriend initiative, but I'll be fucked if I can't just give this to you straight myself:
My advice: Figure out what *you* want. Then, no matter what it is, accept no near-substitutes. Life is short. And it may be complicated but nobody else will simplify it for you. Make space for the type of relationships that you want or you'll never have them.
There's a saying "Don't suffer fools or you'll become one." The same applies for complicated idiots. No matter how badly you'd rather rip their clothes off and risk the public indecency charges, it's just not worth the emotional bail money.