I’m not stupid.
I know I’m sexy.
I said this out loud to a group of fellows and outed myself as a self-confessed fraud.
Half the time I walk around wanting to embrace every sexy curve of my body and the other half I’m like, I’m too sexy, too over the top, too much, I have to tone it down.
I know there’s a balance and I want to be everything that I have been given, but I struggle with it, I am still wondering, what the fuck do I do, what do I have to do to get asked on a date.
I got another soft turn down.
Which, FYI, dude, too much explanation.
I don’t care what your reasons are.
In fact, I respect the “no response” response.
It’s a no.
When you say I want to take you out for dinner and then you don’t ever get back to the woman, she, I sort of figured out there’s not that much interest there.
I had forgotten, pretty much, when I got a long-winded text yesterday about how the person is this that and the other, dude, I repeat, I don’t care.
I don’t need the explanation.
I suppose when it comes right down to it, I don’t ever need an explanation.
I am getting exactly what I am supposed to be working on every day and when I get caught up in why aren’t I dating more, I’m focusing on the external.
I’m doing the compare and despair.
There really is a very curious woman inside me wondering what I could be doing different.
I’m not looking to self-improve.
I have tons of self-acceptance.
I love myself.
I take good care of myself.
I’m pretty damn good company.
So like, what the fuck God, can you break a girl off?
I’m confused and I don’t care for confusion.
I don’t know what actions to take any longer.
Ask a guy out.
Not ask a guy out.
It’s all too much.
I’m tired of the struggle.
It’s a pain in the ass.
I suppose it’s just my brain looking for something to obsess on aside from my taxes, whether or not I am going to get a return after the identity confirmation thing (which apparently takes six weeks to process? What is that? I’m me, I swear), and graduate school.
I have not heard yet whether or not I am in.
And that pisses me off.
I got things to do and plans to make and well, geez you guys said it would be less than a week, so does that mean I didn’t get in?
I’d rather obsess about why I’m single than that one.
If I don’t get into the program I’m not sure where to turn my attention next.
I know that rejection is God’s protection, I know that hands down, so Mister Text me long unnecessary texts, it’s cool, we weren’t a great match anyhow, I’m not upset by the rejection.
Not at all, not one bit.
I am a little frustrated with God and I yelled at him, for lack of a better gender I don’t really think God is a man, it’s just short hand for the higher power I work with—I grew up with a patriarchal idea of God as the Father, so what ever, it works—as I was riding my bicycle home through the park.
“What do you want me to do?!”
I might have been that crazy person you see on the bus, but I was on my bike.
Sometimes, most times, I pray out loud, they are just conversations with God and usually they are little prayers of gratitude.
Thank you God for not having me drink today.
Thank you God for not having me use today.
Thank you God for this beautiful body you have given me to walk around in.
Thank you God for not having me smoke yet today.
Thank you God for not having me be homeless yet today.
Thank you for the trees in the park, the smell of clover in Kezar Triangle as I ride to work, for the smell of blooming jasmine, for magnolia blossoms, for the full moon in the sky, for the honking of geese two days in a row as I ride my bicycle up Lincoln Avenue to work, thank you for my awesome, amazing, wonderful life.
I mean I do that all day long.
But tonight, grateful though I am, I did have some words with God.
What the fuck?
What do you want me to do?
I’ve been working my ass off, what else should I be doing?
I’m tired of figuring it out, you figure it out, what can I do to best be of service to the man you want me to be with?
How do I move toward that man?
Give me some signs!
I mean, really, it’s fucking laughable.
It’s just life and there’s nothing wrong.
I just realized that I really liked having a boyfriend.
It was fun.
Until it wasn’t.
And I want to try it again.
I have a full and wonderful life.
Being in a relationship is not going to make my life better; it’s just going to make my life different.
I know it’s always happening.
But sometimes it just seems like it’s not at all.
And I’m stuck again in this space of being in the hallway, and damn it man, sometimes that hall way is fucking long.
I do have a great weekend coming up.
Plans to go to the East Bay and see some lovely ladies and do some celebration of life and I don’t need to be coupled up for that to happen.
I will get dressed up though.
And be sexy for myself.
That’s the person, ultimately I have to seduce and love.
I’m sexy for me.
And I know it.