Out of my mind… back in 5 minutes.

Ok, fine, I give in. I am going to bitch and moan about relationships, so if you are going to be bored or offended or judge me for it, please avert your gaze and leave me be for a while. I promise that we will returned to the regular scheduled programming in due course.

 

But first…

 AAAARRRRRGGGHHHH!!!!!

 

I mean seriously? Seriously! Seriously. What the HELL is up with this alternate universe I have stepped into? I have quite plainly explained my general views on dating. I even set it out in dummy steps for dummy followers to follow. Yet it seems my plight is to be surrounded by the biggest congregation of douche bags known to humankind. I should really start getting a group discount on heartache for the pain I have to endure at the hands of these dimwits who cannot tell their ass from their oesophagus when it comes to liking someone.

Yes, you heard me right. At the core of it, you cannot truly have believed that I wish to spend the rest of eternity alone and lonely? I mean, sure, I’m in no hurry to get hitched, and I am quite content to be me. But have you ever stopped to wonder why that is? Why, when we’re all miserable little freaks constantly projecting how innately insane it is that no-one loves us, is it that I am actually and really happy with my life as is? Have you ever wondered why I do not second guess being single?

 

The truth is not that I am so pathetically resigned to being a douche bag magnet that I no longer seek a man who will fit the description of boyfriend. It is merely that I (secretly) believe that I am special. I am worth the time and effort of being romanced and wined and dined till kingdom come, and if you are not going to do that, then I‘d rather politely say PASS. I am not any more special than the next girl, but it is my firm belief that every girl should be found special by someone. If you are not treated as the best thing that has ever happened to him, let me enlighten you – it is not because he is still growing up or because he is unavailable or focussed on his career right now or that the timing just isn’t right or you are not good enough. It is because you simply are NOT the best thing that has ever happened to him. Like I said – PASS.

 

It cost me a lot of money to learn this, but I make excuses for the people in my life who treat me like crap. I pretend it’s all okay because I do not want to be honest and say, actually, you have disappointed me to the point of no return. I say it’s okay because I don’t want to rock the proverbial boat, but I am here to tell you now, from the bottom of my heart that actually, it is NOT okay. It is not right and I do not accept that it is the best that you can do. As cynical as I am, I have worked for a long time to like who I am, and I shall be damned if I will let a man ruin my sunny disposition when it comes to me.

 

I am sick and tired of being tainted by the ‘I like you, but…’ brush. Guess what? I’m not interested. My time is precious and by the sounds of you, you are wasting it. Before I get inundated with hate mail, and the message gets all tangled up in the misapprehension of deeper meaning not meant, let me clarify, this here rant is not person specific, and I am not trashing on any one person in particular. It’s more of a throw-my-hands-up-at-the-sky-and-yell-out-at-the-lot-of-you type of statement.

 

Lately, I have jokingly referred to a specific moment when a friend declined to answer a simple question I posed. ‘Am I fundamentally un-date-able?’ I guess it’s not very nice of me, since I’m sure he doesn’t really think I am that much of a lost cause, but it’s one of those hooks you know, a moment that sticks with you and niggles at the back of your mind. I found myself thinking… Well, am I? Am I that far gone that I should just call it quits, pack up shop, buy a cat and some knitting needles…

 

And here is my conclusion. I am not perfect and I do not pretend to be. I am flawed in many ways and I am the first to admit that, but I am not a bad person, nor am I deserving of all these entries into my douche bag diary. Perhaps Karma is trying to teach me a lesson, maybe I am being cosmically punished for the sins of my past, but I stubbornly refuse to believe that this is it. Call it an oxymoron, or call me moronic if you must, but I am here to tell you that I will not be hopeless and I will not be disheartened, because somewhere out there is at least one man (and please refrain from any ‘The One’ comments – we all know that argument is as dumb as luck itself) who will like me, and no if’s nor but’s, no fears and no doubts will keep him from falling for me completely and unconditionally. I am the best thing that will ever happen to you, even if I don’t know who you are yet.

 

#Rantover

 

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