I don’t do complicated.

So the other night I go out to a friend’s house for a drink, we get bored and (more importantly) we ran out of wine. It was the very end of the last of the month of February, which is a deep pocket painful month for most of us after the frolicking of the festive season.


Being two gals in possession of some mighty powers of persuasion, we both entice some friends with the promise of fun in return for drinks on demand. True to our very nature, we delivered fun in fine form… I seem to remember some dancing, red wine, very expensive muscadel, cheap whiskey, more wine, more friends, speakers, more whiskey and one catch phrase…


I don’t do complicated.


Jip, I know. Of course it was me opening my big mouth and spewing forth my uncomplicated complicated version of what I would imagine a relationship should be like, which is really no relationship at all and a subject-matter that I am far from expert on… I’d imagine the rest of the conversation (safely trapped in my hazy hangover fog of the next morning) had me intensely explaining something along the lines of I’ve been single for 4 years / I like my life / I don’t want a man to complicate it / I do want to meet a man who doesn’t want to complicate it / I like kissing a LOT / I don’t like kissing random men / why cant I just meet someone who gets it / ad infinitum / ad nauseam.


In the sober light of day, I’m eternally grateful we were an intimate group of friends who I hope are classy enough to not kiss and tell the world of my diatribe of drunken idiocy (I much rather prefer telling you all myself).


But it has me thinking and it’s something that I have been wondering about for some time now. At some point I’m going to have to take the plunge and start dating again. It’s not that I don’t like it or that I don’t want to do it; it’s just that I don’t have a friggin’ clue what it is that I want – from myself or from a man. When you’re a bit of an obsessive thinker like I am, it’s confusing. I keep on trying to make sense of what it is that I want, but I can’t.


Maybe that’s the sense to be made? That I need to stop trying so hard to understand things that by their very nature are inexplicable. Sure, I do get afraid sometimes that not being in control is going to lead to me being hurt, but then, so what if I do? I’ll manage, I always do.


Maybe the real problem is that we are all guilty of talking things to death instead of simply shutting up and seeing where life takes us. We hypothesise so much about the nature of relationships that I sometimes wonder if any of us still retain an ounce of actual perspective on the matter. We’re all trying to say what the other person wants to hear anyway – there would be no point of explaining ourselves if the other person felt the way we did anyway.


So that is my growth for now… I will try to take it easy on myself for not being able to define what it is that I want and more importantly, I will stop trying to explain to others what it is that I want. Eventually someone is bound to just get it, because like the loudmouth me said that night: I don’t do complicated…