Dating Options 101: Whatchagot

I had too much wine on Saturday night, wrote this. Didn’t publish it for fear I might’ve said too much. In vino veritas and all. So here’s the version you see. :)

I’m being antisocial. Again. I’m at that point where people are draining me, so I know I need my time to myself.

Some guy’s aggressively pursuing me. I could be shagging this weekend, not lounging around in ugly clothes. The thought fills me with a little doubt as I look down at my yoga pants and my shitty concert t-shirt. God knows it’s been long enough. If landscapes were sex-life allusions, then mine would be the Sahara in a drought. I’m okay with this, though. Except, you know, at those moments when — SCHWING — I’m so not. Fortunately, self-inducing oblivion helps avoid those moments.

I’ve been rebuffing said attempts. Pretty sure he’s not really my type. It’d be just sex. Incredibly-hot-guy-with-no-mental-connection sex. If things were less complicated, maybe. Like I say: A dry season in the Sahara. The problem with hormones is, once you turn ‘em on, it’s like the switch gets broke. They get this mind of their own. I’d prefer not to fuck my mode and just avoid sex entirely unless it’s for the “oh, YOU might be a sidedish of WOW” kinda manly potential right now.

I’ve been insanely busy for a long time. I’m not sure I have a relationship in me. A lazy relationship. Heavy on the sex and the indoors thing, you know, preferably with a short-term agoraphobic who can afford to order us delivery, and has a good wine habit and stunning taste in film, with a potential Scrabble habit. But I’m just spit-balling here. Does seem a bit much to ask, I know, but I believe in dreams. And unicorns.

Or maybe I could just have sex. But therein lies the problem. With WHOM? That’s no easily-answered question; you’ll be requiring references and a skill-testing question. I’m so old-fashioned. I’m having a hard time going after the casual thing. I don’t trust others to play clean. I’m not into taking chances with my health when I’m completely STD-free, always have been, and there’s so many skanks in the world. That old commercial where you see two people shagging and there’s all these other people superimposed above, with something like “When you sleep with someone, you sleep with everyone who’s ever slept with everyone they’ve slept with.” If that makes any sense at all.

Naturally, being a chick with discerning tastes, and seeing the sometimes-craptastic women that even the GOOD guys I know have shagged, well. Yeah, I get hesitant. You hear about the one person who gets HIV because a condom tore one night, and they’ve always worn one, or the escort who gets pregnant despite never having unprotected sex, and you have to realize that .1% ineffectiveness has a human toll.

Let’s face it: I *am* statistics girl. As a superhero, my tights would be nothing but a chart of probability and statistics. “Why, I’ll show you a skyrocketing mortality rate!”

I’ve been thrown off a horse, fallen down a flight of stairs, blew my knee three times in a year, have had five car accidents, almost died in one, almost killed myself on my scooter the next year, and blew my back by standing up from a chair. In 15 years. Most of it in the last 7. And those are just the headlines.

Should *I* test fate more than necessary? You think?

The hedonist in me has definitely seized the odd moment that would’ve been criminal to let past, and that’s the way the casual cookie crumbles. Protection lowers the odds but never prevents it. Thank god my libido stays quiet when I want it to. Heh, yeah, you envy me. Like I’ve got a muzzle for the thing, I swear. It’s awesome. I couldn’t imagine being “on” when I’m in single patches. Whew. Innocents would die. I kid you not. Old people, toddlers; the casualties would be legion.

Regardless of all the above babble, I’ve resolved to plop myself back out there on the market PFQ. It is time. Like, two weeks from now when I’m done a bunch of stuff, that’s when it’s time. It’s time! My digs are too cool for me to stay single any longer, too. I need to share this bitchin’ pad with someone who can appreciate latenights with lazy mornings too.

Trouble is, I get into anything with anyone and I’m pretty sure the rest of my social life would go to the wayside, even if I only hooked up with said fella once a week or something, ‘cos time ain’t something I’ve got considering all I’m trying to accomplish these days. And I hate those choices. And who does “once a week”? Not people in MY circles, I tell you.

But there you have it, I overthink things. This is why I’m just saying fuck it, putting myself out there, and seeing what the world unfolds for me. There are times when thinking is good, and there are times when “Whatcha got?” works nicely too. I’ve been thinking too much for a while.

It’s whatchagot time. You, take the wheel.

Be Sociable, Share!
Digg This
Reddit This
Stumble Now!
Buzz This
Vote on DZone
Share on Facebook
Bookmark this on Delicious
Kick It on DotNetKicks.com
Shout it
Share on LinkedIn
Bookmark this on Technorati
Post on Twitter
Google Buzz (aka. Google Reader)

No related posts.

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.

This entry was posted in Dating, Humour, Journalling, Romance, Specifically Steff and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Trackbacks are closed, but you can post a comment.

2 Comments

  1. Michael
    Posted September 10, 2009 at 8:44 am | Permalink

    Hi-larious and beautiful. Yea, when it’s right, it’ll hit you right between the eyes, so wear all sorts of protection, night and day. Life’s for enjoying. It should be an adventure, but let someone else drive. Sounds like you’re hell on wheels.

  2. Posted September 17, 2009 at 10:43 pm | Permalink

    I love the image of your superhero character ‘stats girl’. I feel exactly the same way. Tell me, why is it that every time something bad could happen, even with the slimmest odds, like getting an STD, you are sure it is going to happen, and yet when the same odds refer to something good, like winning a lottery, you are sure it will never happen. Mind you, looking at the list of bad things that happened to you, maybe you are on to something!
    .-= Mark ´s last blog ..Recipe: Greek Salad =-.

Post a Comment

Your email is never published nor shared. Required fields are marked *

*
*

You may use these HTML tags and attributes: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <strike> <strong>

CommentLuv badge

Subscribe without commenting

  • About Steff

    This is my interstellar craft of truth and wit. Buckle up. If you want celebrity gossip, this is not the blog for you. If you want comfortable postings that’ll fill you with happy fuzzy thoughts about the world at large, or self-help guru shit, this is not the blog for you.
    Read more

  • Support Steff!

    I hate ads, but I like money.
    If you like my content,
    feel free to show it through PayPal.
    Support is appreciated.