Chapter 63: Done

I’m sick of the all of it.

A variety of men rotate on a carousel in a massive refrigerated glass case. Slices of layer cake, tall calorie-bomb sundaes smothered in whipped cream, tangy lemon bars sprinkled with powdered sugar, demure little petit fours good for one night, big soft cookies laden with chocolate chunks, and green mystery squares… pistachio, maybe? twirl round and round before my eyes…hey, there, honey… come here often? Each one calls my name, each one entices me with a slightly different flavor. They slowly pass before my eyes, but after a while, I notice the dead fly stuck on one, collected dust on another, waxy frosting that tastes like crayons on a third. Even the chocolate chunks turn out to be that miserable excuse of a substitute known as carob. Gross. I’ve been in front of the dessert case so long they are no longer appealing to me, and they spin faster and faster until they are just a blur of desserts threatening to fly off the shelf, splattering in a multicolor disaster.

If I take another bite, I’m gonna be sick.

I date an ex-pro wrestler who has some very interesting stories about being in WWE, and absolutely nothing in common with me. I date a police officer with the personality of a turnip, and I feel really bad because he’s super nice, and I’m just not into him. This guy deserves someone amazing. Who’s really into turnips.

I have a brief fling with a 28 year old who comes to my business to fix some pipes. Like a dog-eared bodice-ripper Harlequin romance, this Keanu Reeves lookalike is fixing copper pipes above his head, muscles rippling in a perfect V down his back…he is absolutely beautiful, and my big mouth says can I just watch you work? and he responds… favorably. He thinks I’m younger, I’m positive he’s older. We wind up making out in his pickup truck behind the building, perfect body pressed against my almost twice his age saggy stomach. You sure you wanna do this, dude? Ridiculously, he somehow thinks this will work and actually starts pursuing a relationship with me. And at first glance, it seems, well, why not? Why can’t it work to have a larger age difference? But reason wins the day, and I explain to him that, unlike his 28 year old counterparts, I cannot provide him with a family, and it’s just going to be weird when none of his friends get my Gilligan’s Island jokes or why I say for crying out loud all the time. It’s pretty generation gappy, and I really don’t want to listen to all the Mumford & Sons it’s going to require to sustain this relationship.

I meet a gentleman and his female “best friend” of twelve years who seems all too excited to set me up with him, we have a lovely couple of weeks of dating in which he insists he has never met anyone like me, I’m his soul mate, bla bla bla, until one day while I’m driving back to Tiny Town, I receive a phone call from him saying his platonic “best friend” just left her husband and he wants to have a go at a relationship with her, would I be willing to date him again if it doesn’t work out? I just stare at my phone, marvelling at the audacity. What, am I supposed to hold out till he decides he does want me after all? Am I just supposed to stand there, Monopoly Community Chest card clutched in my hand, 10$ for second place in the beauty contest?

I meet a guy at an event who turned out to be the schmooziest dude ever. Midkiss I’m literally thinking why am I doing this? Are men really worth it? I don’t even want this any more.

I go on a date with a guy who I feel a great connection with, make out in his car, only to be told he’s not feeling it. Well, okay, but why the extensive makeout sesh?

I volunteer for an arts organization, and one of the folks on the board is rather attractive. So attractive, in fact, that I once again pitch caution to the wind and get involved with this guy. We have a wonderful evening, dancing together, holding hands, laughing… I finally know better than to go too far too fast. I blow the whistle and throw a flag on the field because he is extremely, ridiculously, obnoxiously persuading me to pleaseohpleaseohplease have sex with me OMG you are everything I’ve ever wanted you are just the best all I’ve ever been looking for all I need and DAMMIT WHY WON’T YOU TAKE YOUR CLOTHES OFF??!!! pressure pressure pressure and…

…. this girl is finally getting it.

No, you may not slip your hand underneath there. No, you can’t feel that. NO, I’m not taking my clothes off. No, you don’t get to find out I have on a beautiful matching bra and panty set in divine soft pink satin. Kinkdude would be jealous. no, no, NO! I bought that shit for myself, and you don’t get to see it.

So, for once in my fucking life, I absolutely refuse to cave to a guy I really like, even though he has the cool checkered Van’s and danced in the kitchen with me (guys, take note: Many women find this incredibly romantic) and likes the same music and has the same interests and seems like he could be The One…

I flat out refuse to screw around with this guy.

Guess what?

I BROKE THE CODE.

I don’t hear from him the next day, or the next, or the next, of the next…

…or even the next week.

I finally find out that he had a steady girlfriend, and they had gotten into a fight, and I met him in the week they were fighting. He was using me to get her off his mind. Players, women should not be your Prozac, go get the therapy you need instead of using women.

That sonofabitch KNEW he was going to use me. He KNEW his heart belonged to this cute blonde I saw him out with weeks later… I wonder what she would think if she knew how hard he was trying to bang someone else during their premarital spat?

but I won. I WON!! And I am turning a corner, and my body is my own, and I’m not believing their bullshit anymore, and I’m starting to feel cynical when I get a side glance from some nice looking guy.

He’s probably cheating.
He’s just looking for a quick lay.
He has no job and wants a place to crash.
He still lives with mom and dad.
He’s used this line on every girl who’s darkened the door since 1983.
He hasn’t bought new underwear since he graduated.
He’s abusive.
He has a drinking problem.
He’s abusive and has a drinking problem.
He has a woman at home who’s sick to death of his bullshit.

I no longer believe the facade of their false advertising,

Gone are the stars in my eyes, gone is the belief that my Magic Man is right there at my fingertips. You know what goes through my head now when I see an attractive man? A whole litany of all of the men I have dated that have been totally full of shit. I don’t believe them any longer, and I am discovering that if I am platonic, and not tempted to screw around, they can’t hurt me.

Code cracked.

I just got a massive chunk of Monica back. Solving this was finishing the frame of a jigsaw puzzle. I feel great.

But what happens when you do actually meet the love of your life?

A tall man with a huge smile eases into the barstool next to mine.