The Plan

What the hell was I thinking? I yelled as threw my cell phone across the room. It is strange how we do these things; throw cell phones, punch walls, kick furniture. It isn’t like the other person will say, “Oh look, she threw her shoe into the wall. Now I better start acting nice and being logical.” No, you just end up patching, or painting, or buying a new phone, or gluing your favorite Asian vase together with the hopes that no one will notice.

And it didn’t matter, he wasn’t even here to see it. Don’t be friends with you ex, they told me. He’s your ex for a reason. And they were right. The maddening part was that I didn’t want him back. If I wanted him back at least this would all make sense. There would be a reason for my horrible decision. But every time I saw him I always felt this sense of relief. Like all those drunken arguments, all the times I wasn’t good enough, didn’t love him enough, wasn’t pretty enough would flash before my eyes and I would think, it’s finally over. I finally have peace.

So why did I do it? Why did I let him remain in my life?

Because he was my friend at some point. Because I had a hard time letting go of friends. Because I had my own abandonment issues and I could not, would not, make someone else feel that way. Because I was a masochist. Because my self respect was obviously at an all-time low. So be friends with a man that hurts me and treats me like a convenience? Why not. Plus he had moved into an apartment just five doors down, why not make it civil, right?

All the rest is cliché. We hung out, we still fought, he drank and got angry then called me the next day sober and was nice. I might as well have been dating him again! 

And so today, it finally clicked in my head. We. Cannot. Be. Friends.

I did the whole crying thing (this time it only lasted ten minutes as opposed the self-pitying hours it used to take). Threw my cell phone (which thankfully hit the soft bed). And poured myself a large glass of wine.

Then I did something entirely new. I drew up a game plan.

Every guy who has asked me out, every man I have hung out with, I have pushed away. I have made absolutely NO emotional connections with anyone and why? Because I am afraid of getting hurt? News flash. Not all men are prick holes. I have guy friends that are amazing. Perfect even. They are all taken but at least I have seen the aliens enough times to believe they exist. The truth IS out there.

So here is my blog. My new life of saying “Yes!” to dates and dinner. Of crawling out of my apartment and letting someone treat me nice… and not it some creepy way (don’t even get me started on some of my recent terrible decisions). Am I looking for a relationship? Not really. But I am no longer opposed to it if it ends up happening. I will be open-minded. I will be picky.

And here is the biggest eye opener. I am f*cking amazing. Sure I make mistakes, sure I can be an annoying dork, sure I have A LOT of quirky habits. But beneath all that, I am loyal mother f*cker, a funny ass girl with an above average IQ and I am pretty easy on the eyes.

Tonight will be Day 1.

The Plan: Go to the bar, drink mojitos, laugh until it hurts and be kind to the men who are interested. (The last one is a tough because my bar game is horrible. When a guy comes over to talk I am not always the nicest girl in the room. I think, “What kind of guy talks to a girl in the bar!” and then I am all sh*tty and standoffish. I will not do this tonight.)

The Wardrobe: Skinny jeans, high heels, fabulous new lipstick.

The Coconspirators: Kick ass girl friends.

Stay tuned.