Do you know what's really hard?Dating.
See? You knew that. That's something you know.
I used to subscribe to the Sex and the City mentality that we all have two great loves (Season 5, Episode 1, Anchors Away, F*ck You Charlotte). I had even pinpointed who those two people were, which - as I'm sure you can imagine - made the following relationships all very fulfilling and successful.
But that episode was 2002. Throw in an unlimited data plan, six dating websites, an increase in the frequency and convenience of public transportation and HOLY HELL you can really go through them.
My first boyfriend was afraid to swallow pills. He battled his anxiety with venti quad Americanos and raspberry white mochas from Starbucks.
My second boyfriend used to lift me up and pretend we were in The Lion King opening sequence. I was Simba, he was Rafiki. It wasn't as cute as it sounds. At least not after the 5th time.
My third boyfriend once snorted Prozac off of the bar at my friend's birthday party. He claimed I overreacted because he had a prescription for it, so it was no big deal.
My fourth boyfriend was a dancer. Enough said.
My fifth boyfriend couldn't eat pork. For religious reasons, sure, but it made ordering pizza really difficult. It was doomed from day one.
I'm sure there are people I'm leaving out who considered themselves my boyfriends, but including them isn't going to make either of us look better now. You're welcome.
If you can guess which of the two listed I had considered my two great loves, then you've thought far too much into this and I'm sad for you. The point is, there's a strange feeling that sinks in when you realize you're not hung up on somebody anymore. You're the melancholy meadowlark, sad to be let out of the cage until you realize you're free to discover new kinks and better ways to be tied down.
I took it from a bird reference to a BDSM reference. Dad is going to be really proud.
All 2014 has brought me so far is an increase in my student loan payments and a date where I called the boy a wrong name three times. So, I'm getting hung up on the pen and not the penis. It's time to get back to that book deal.
(My mom said to write something uplifting. I'm counting the dick jokes.)
More penis puns please,
TJB: Making It
