Relationships and you...or uh me...Us, Relationships and Us

Relationships are not a subject I’m well versed on. In fact, relationships are a subject with which I have no versing, or experience, or whatever you’d call it when you haven’t had a girlfriend. Friendships, friendships with benefits, benefits without friendships, one night stands, booty calls, regretted calls, and an impressive amount of drunken dials, debacles, spectacles, and of course rejectacles (not a word but I was on a streak so forgive me) have been the extent of my forays into “romance.” When people find this out I usually get a quizzical look and the question, “why?” As if this had been a conscious effort on my part to avoid any sort of intimacy and security, not to mention a guaranteed lay on those oh so lonely Saturday nights.

It’s not a question, despite its frequency, that I’ve ever had an answer readily at hand for, probably because I still haven’t quite figured it out myself yet. Usually I make a joke about my inability to attract women (not entirely true) or something along those lines to which I then get more confused looks which only requires more explaining or jesting until they drop the subject and I’m allowed to drift back into my comfort zone of odious one liners and comebacks.

The life of a bachelor I find is not at all fulfilling or even half-filling for that matter. However, without ever having ventured into the chains on, shield drawn, taken world of having an exclusive relationship I will presume that being a bachelor is infinitely more interesting and enlightening. You learn more about yourself when your pushed to the edge of desperation after two months in a row without so much as a hug from a girl to the edge of rapture after going through four different girls in three nights. You learn more about people when you put yourself out there every time you’re out, from trying an assortment of overused, undersuccesful pick up lines, to sociological studies in the text from The Game to comprehend why it is that girls never talk or show interest in you. Not to mention the girls you do meet and actually start getting to bases with; it really is incredible, I find, how different every girl can be.

One thing I can say for certain is that it is much easier to be perceived as an asshole while rambunctiously courting every girl that shows the slightest interest…or eye contact. Growing up I never thought I would be that kind of guy. Having always considered myself a “nice guy” (with varying degrees of accuracy), I envisioned being with a “nice girl” (if there is such a thing) in a happy romance that could be taken slow and grow into something more. You know, the kind of wholesome development that Disney raised us on. This, however, has not been the case as should be abundantly obvious by now.

To be fair there are two reasons for this, me, and every girl I’ve ever met. I find that I take conversation, sense of humor, and personality entirely too seriously and have tastes so specific they’d probably keep me from dating Jessica Alba and the entire Pussicat Dolls (except for the blonde, I just feel like I could relate to her). That might be a bit of an exaggeration but not by much. Additionally, with my lack of experience at ever making it to a point where cheating is actually something I could be guilty of I am persistently unsure as to what the girl wants and usually succumb to my overwhelming self doubt in concluding she’s probably not interested in me. I’ve come close a couple of times. Times in which I found a girl that met my specific standards of humor, conversation, and personality and actually showed some interest in me as well. These are the examples that have probably most shaped my view towards women…and myself. I no longer consider myself a Saint to say the least and have come to the conclusion that I probably will not be challenging for any good character awards until I have graduated from the single life. I have also realized that of all the wrongs I’ve been guilty of, I have also been a victim of a cruel sense of karma which hovers over me and it’s only a question of who struck first my wrongs or theirs.

As for the future, will it bring more unrelenting sin and excitement or will I be at last rewarded with a boring, uneventful stability only possible in the midst of a faithful, funless relationship? I got my fingers crossed and my eyes peeled but most likely I’ll settle for my drink strong and my thirst welcoming.