Tuesday, 27 September 2011

Men. Can't live with them... can't stand them actually

That's not true. I don't want y'all to think I'm some kind of stereotypical man hating 30-something spinster who lives alone with a cat and drinks gin. Oh, wait.

No, the truth is I have some awesome male friends who I truly rate as human beings. They are ace to hang out with, some of them have been brilliant at giving me advice and some even manage to keep the glazed look out of their eyes for a whole 20 minutes while I wail about my problems. And to them I am truly grateful. I also can see with my eyes that many of my friends are in lovely relationships with respectful and loving boyfriends/husbands. I can see that these men do exist, and in fact outweigh the ones who prefer to spend their time ripping out girls' hearts and stamping on them just for the fuck of it.

But recent events haven't helped my mindset regarding relationships. As in me. In a relationship. That isn't borderline abusive and marked by awful, screaming fights. That isn't tainted by infidelity and undermining of the self.

Take Sunday for example. On Sunday I got dumped by someone I don't even fancy. I had one date with a guy the week before. Now, I could have been mistaken and he didn't fancy me, but the fact that he said (and later texted the words) "I fancy you" led me to believe he did. As did the moving in for a kiss. I'd decided within the usual two seconds that I didn't want to make the beast with two backs with this particular guy. And then I'd decided a couple of hours later that I didn't even really want to talk to him anymore. Which is when he moved in for a kiss. I actually fully sidestepped him. As in, swerved my head to the side and stepped away from him while simultaneously opening the door for him to leave. THAT'S how much I didn't fancy him and how clear I made it.

Fast forward a week and I get a text saying: "I just can't have anyone in my life right now. So I don't think we should see each other again." ORLY? Dickweed. Exactly what part of NOT LETTING YOU KISS ME AND NOT CONTACTING YOU gave you the impression that I was hanging on for a second date? Or that I would touch you with a fucking mile long bargepole. This may sound like I'm either protesting too much or that I'm overreacting but it's a prime example of the arrogance of the men I meet.

It doesn't matter if I'm sitting there asleep in front of them because they are so dull, or that I won't let them touch me in any way, shape or form. Or that I don't contact them and blatantly don't want to see them. They still assume that obviously I'm instantly in love with them and they have to let me down gently. Mental. Absolutely fucking mental.

Oh, and Saturday as well. On Saturday I saw my ex with another girl approximately a whole two weeks after we split. Years of being pushed and pulled into different directions, interspersed with the odd oasis of happiness quickly quelled by fights and being called fat, have finally killed this beast stone dead. But still, it's not what you want to see when you look out of your lounge window is it? Why can't exes just spontaneously combust? Or move to Grimsby? Either one would do.

So, yeah.

Um, anyone fancy a date?

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