To The One Who Was Not ‘The One’

As I’ve been very forthcoming in much of my writing, most of you know I’m sort of the queen of breakups. Not quite the queen of relationships, but definitely the queen of breakups. Now why would a bright twenty-something be both a commitment-phobe AND a relationship-type? Because why not.

But to be honest, I’m just so sick of trying and feeling like I failed again. I came across this post on Thought Catalog, and it resonated so well with me. I’ve been this woman; I’ve had her same thoughts; I’ve felt her same unhappiness when someone I loved was constantly choosing being “busy” over me, and I’ve been devastated when I realized I was the only one in the relationship that was fighting to make it work.

This is a definite must-read:

To The One Who Was Not ‘The One’, by Raina Naim

They say that if a man is not ready for commitment, even if you bring him all the ladies in the world and hand it to him on a silver platter, he still will not commit. They also say that if a man really values you and doesn’t want to lose you, he will do everything he can to keep you, because that is the real challenge, the challenge is not getting someone, the challenge is keeping them.

I was trying to find a happy medium between two paradoxical facts, so I was giving you your time but at the same time I wanted ‘more’ from you. We had good times, we laughed, we had intimate conversations, and we had a very strong connection, but you also had that with many other women, and I had that with many other men. Sometimes I felt we acted more like friends than lovers but isn’t that a good thing? Either way I wanted to “make this work”. I was tired of failed relationships, I was tired of meaningless flings, I was tired of being lonely, I was just tired and you gave me something to fight for.

I fought for you and for the relationship to work, but later on I realized that if I continue fighting, I will be fighting myself, because in the soundless moments that I refrained from everyone and thought about this relationship, that little voice inside my head told me that it’s not what you want, it’s not how it should be, you are not happy, and when I paused and reflected, I was the only one fighting, while you were trying.

I think the older you get, you look for those who can comfort you and be there for you as opposed to someone you can have fun with or just kill time with. You want security, knowing that when everyone walks out of your life, that person will walk in, and I never felt that, I felt that you were in the front line of people who are constantly disappointing me. So I left, and I may have looked back a couple of times, but it was nothing more than pure nostalgia.

I guess this is what’s funny about relationships, you think you want something out of a specific relationship only to realize that you want something totally different.

I don’t know if it’s because you get to know yourself better, or because in the darkest of moments, when you are alone in bed thinking about the meaning of life, you come to understand that all you ever want is to be loved a little more, and understood a little better, and sometimes you can’t just keep these two truths under wraps and when you unravel them, you want to make sure that your partner will embrace them instead of running away.

You were always “busy” doing other stuff; sometimes absolutely nothing, but you always chose “busy” over me, and eventually I chose me over “busy” and started giving more time to those who made time for me. Why do we always remember those who were always there for us when we find no one else?  Why can’t we just value their presence without having to feel their absence?

When I saw how amazing you were to your friends, I realized that you are capable of being a giving & generous man-just not with me. How do you explain that? I don’t know. Maybe this where the whole ‘not meant to be’ thing comes into play. We just didn’t bring out the best in each other. Why? Because we weren’t meant to be.  

So I guess I thank you for paving the way for me to know who I should be with, the kind of man I should look for, and what I want out of a relationship. Thank you for teaching me that no matter how hard I try to change myself to please someone, they can still reject it.

Thank you for making me embrace my core and stop changing myself for a relationship that does not go the distance. Thank you for reminding me that people can say we are so ‘perfect’ together, and then say ‘we saw it coming’ when it’s over. I learned not to listen to them anymore.

Thank you for making me realize how dangerous infatuation can be, we soon find ourselves doing things we never thought we would, so blinded by the VERY obvious facts, and clinging to strings of false hope. Sometimes you ask yourself what was I thinking? The answer is you weren’t.

It wasn’t easy getting over you, attachment is a double-edged sword, but I learned that in relationships it’s better to break your own heart and save yourself from falling apart. Thank you for making me aware of the lines we shouldn’t cross in relationships, and how blurry these lines can be when you’re in love. Thank you for bringing me one step closer to ‘the one.’

“Wait for something more organic…”

First of all, who the fuck actually does that!?

And second: am I the only one who finds it incredibly condescending when someone says “you’ll meet him/her when the timing is right. It just has to happen organically.”???  -I like the idea of not having to put forth effort, but nothing actually happens organically. I’d love to say I’m not pushy, but I am. I’m always making moves to get things accomplished. Nothing great in my life has ever happened organically. I had to put in a sufficient amount of effort to make ANYTHING work.

I’m 25, and have been dating for a decade. Yes, there are women out there who have been dating in their adulthood a lot longer than I, but I’m exhausted.

My type has gone from so narrow and picky that it was comedic, to “must be a decent human being, with whom I can have great conversations and moments with.” -I obviously want to be attracted to them, but I tend to find intellect and a mutual connection more attractive with my aging. He doesn’t have to be freakishly tall, foreign, funny, bilingual,  5+ years older, dark, and handsome. <I told you it was comedic>

He can be a normal human being, because I am a normal human being. I mean, I think I’m a catch, but I’m not Giselle Bündchen.

So, how the F**K do I go about “bumping into” this normal and sophisticated gent in an organic fashion? ….Do I hover over Tolstoy at the old bookstore, with hopes that I’ll have a meetcute with some cutie who ALSO is obsessed with early 19th century literature? -Come on, guys… that’s not actually a thing.  Meeting people organically is total bullshit. So, until then… the cutie in the produce section will have to do.

To Be Continued,

IncrediblySingle&SlightlyAnnoyed

B&B

 

Emilie I 

Kevin now has his own corner on Basic&Bipolar. Enjoy his beautiful words below, and under the menu option “It’s All Copacetic“.

I can hardly remember the way you tossed your hair; something I’ve studied on numerous occasions. I catch glimpses now and again as trees reach out and swing their branches in the wind. And the wind still carries your scent, following me everywhere I go, urging me to look back and see you standing there. But I still have trouble remembering the way you tossed your hair.

I can hardly relive the flashbacks of your lips pressing tightly together and melting away from mine only to tease; like a newly blossomed rosebud opening for the bees and then withering away the second it slips in. Then hunger ensues; hunger for your lips. But I still have trouble reliving those flashbacks.

I can hardly feel your hands. I imagine they would be lost in mine, our fingers intertwined like the mossy overhang on our front porch door. Our front door, it creaked slightly when you crept in, opening it slowly to soften the sound.

Oh, I can hardly recall the sound! The sound of your voice as it trembles beneath a whisper, forcing out those words. And I’m still holding onto those words. You said that if I left there’s no way you’d survive.

Then you left…so, are you still alive? I can hardly recall.

Tinder Tale II

tinder 2Tinder Tales II

As discussed in part I of my Tinder Tale installments, I collected tinder date stories throughout the summer. During which, Joan and I had been particularly obsessed with going on a double Tinder date, because after a few dates on Tinder… it was apparent to us that the men in our area didn’t really take to tinder for anything serious, so we decided we’d get some good laughs, food, and drinks out of it. I mean, why not… we’re two hot twenty-somethings; we might as well make the best out of this hook-up app.

“The Worst Double-Date We’ve Ever Been On”

We had had several unsuccessful attempts to have a double tinder date. It was something that was constantly in the backs of our minds while setting up dates with contenders. After probably two months of unsuccessful attempts, we matched with “guy whose name I forgot” and Ari.

GWNIF (guy whose name I forgot) was there for me, and of course the gorgeous and well-built Ari was there for Joan. GWNIF was chosen as a desperate attempt at a double-date. Joan and I really wanted to go out for wine and cheese, so I booked a date with the first contender that was available that night.

Ari arrived to our favorite wine bar before we did, and was already eagerly getting us a table. When we walked in, he was gorgeous and smiley as he hugged both of us. Though he was there for just Joan, he was ridiculously social and sweet to me as well. *Fellas, when you date a woman, you ARE also dating her best friend. Play nice, because best friends can make or break your intentions to date. – I was totally team Ari– I even whispered to Joan that I didn’t care if GWNIF didn’t show up, because I was already having a nice time. Wishful thinking got me nowhere, because that awkward turtle showed up 5 minutes later.

He was nice and polite (at first), but a really snobby sommelier. He was the most annoying of the annoying wine snobs; he sat there sniffing the wines, and testing our waitress on the different dry reds she could provide our table. –I’m all about knowing your wines, but as soon as the customer starts testing the staff, I’m probably going to accidentally spill my wine on his/her lap for being an asshat at my favorite wine bar.

He asked me about my job a lot, as he found what I did incredibly interesting, and he kept saying “I really should go back to school. I can’t do a lot without a degree.” –he said this at least three times, so I finally said “What would you go for then?” And here’s the kicker: he said “I want to run my own wine bar. I’d like to learn more about running a business, and pick-up some managerial skills.” To which I said “not testing the staff like they’re at gunpoint while you’re on a date is probably a really great place to start as far as interpersonal skills go.” -Yes, I did say this… I’m rude, guys.

Ari was being delightful and involving me in his conversations with Joan, because it was obvious to everyone at our table (other than GWNIF) that I was not interested in snobby snobberson. So, my energy was spent attempting to make small-talk with GWNIF, while also socializing with Joan and her pretty manfriend. *I’d also like to add that men also tend to use their best photos for this app (women aren’t the only ones who do this). GWNIF was one of those guys.

GWNIF and I didn’t talk about anything interesting in the slightest. I don’t like talking about work in late night social environments, because of the nature of my job, I feel it’s not respectful to discuss it over drinks. So, that topic wasn’t going to work. I kept trying to talk about hobbies (I’m basically a collector of small-time hobbies), and he had none. Who the F**k hasn’t a single hobby!? I mean, nothing. He didn’t collect anything, he didn’t have any special skills (outside of wine quizzing), and he had NO major life interests, and owned zero pets. I had absolutely nothing to talk to this guy about. Staying awake around him was a total chore. He just kept talking about wanting to become more cultured. -And hopefully find a hobby or two.

After our third or fourth bottle of wine at the table, we all decided to call it a night. Completely out-of-tune with me, Joan invited the entire table back to our place for some more drinks and a movie. The situation got away from me, and the next thing I noticed was Joan giving GWNIF directions to our home and telling him “you know what, why don’t you just follow us back!” -Great. Thanks, Joan. Now I have to hang out with this snoozefest even longer. As we walked back to our car, I whispered “what on earth were you thinking? That guy was the fucking worst. Seriously.” Giggling, she responded “yeah, I know. I thought it’d be funny to see how you’d get out of it.” -Gee thanks, yah fuck!

I eagerly took control of this situation, and texted him that I was tired and heading to bed. He understood, and said that he could tell that I seemed “sleepy”. -uhh yeah, because you were boring me to tears, homie.

After a failed attempt at sexy texting me a few days later, I never heard from GWNIF again. I was actually shocked by his attempt at sexy texting. Not only was he boring, but apparently is also horrible at picking up social cues. No thank you, sir. He was rude and a complete snoozefest. He was unmatched and deleted right away.

Needless to say, Joan and I have vowed to never double-date again unless we’re in solid relationships. I know I definitely  have no desire to go on a double-date, ever again.

Have any of you had any good experiences with double-dating? …Maybe I’m just doing it wrong (I probably am).

To Be Continued,

B&B

Drunk Text That Ex

imageUnless you’re me, and your drunk alter ego is a shady c**t who erases all evidence that you drunk texted AND called your ex the night before.

This is why it’s important to deal with our shit during the day, guys… If we push our feelings down, they’ll bubble up and demand to be acknowledged when we’re in NO capacity to deal with them.

I’m Basic&Bipolar, and I am a chronic drunk texter.

So, apparently after four+ vodkas, I decided to tell my ex he still hasn’t given my movies back after several requests, and “damnit I want them back. They’re mine, you fuck!” -which is wildly embarrassing, and we all know how well anyone would comply to a request like that.

Are any of you equally as embarrassing when drunk and irritated!? -Because I’m embarrassing, and I love a good ‘hot mess’ story! I want to hear ‘m -I know I’m not the only crazy ass out there!

To Be Continued,

B&B

Stagnation

 Relationships without passion: they happen to us all

Lately, I’ve been thinking about romantic relationship dynamics  and the people in my life who I think are either just tolerating their relationships or are wildly unhappy. And from what I’ve noticed in the love lives of my friends and family members, it seems to be a theme that a person ought to settle until something better comes along… Or they stay in these stagnant (and non-passionate) relationships because there’s so much history there.

This realization obviously saddens me (and should sadden us all), because these loved ones are not only settling, but nurturing an unwanted flower with tainted water. Relationships are fucking hard any time two people are involved (I say two people, because my cat and I get along beautifully).

Why bother putting work into a relationship with someone who you don’t really feel excited to be with?

These musings came to me while I was with my friend, discussing a relationship that ended a lifetime ago. It was a saga that went on for years, and it took me a really long time to realize that this individual didn’t give the slightest shit about what was important to me in life. All of the causes that are near and dear to my heart, he never asked about or took interest in my thoughts on them. This was someone who allegedly loved me, but never really knew or liked anything about me as a societal being. The stuff I care about and invest my time into is a HUGE part of who I am. Looking back, I can’t really figure out why he hung around so long if he had no interest in the entirety of who I am.

So, I then decided to look at the relationships of my loved ones….and that’s how I arrived at the mindset that a lot of them are just waiting around until they find something better. Someone whose interests better align with theirs.

After it took so long for me to realize that my past relationship was just a place-holder for a better mate, I never want to be in that type of relationship again. I want to be excited to be with someone; I want to feel honored to be in their life, and vice versa-and I want all of these things for my loved ones (this extends to each of my beautiful readers).

Maybe I’m wrong, and there’s nothing wrong with settling. These are just the musings of one woman.

To Be Continued,

B&B

NoChillChicksHere

image

I am the furthest thing from being a “cool chick”.

This is my dating reality: 

I have no idea how to navigate the dating world. I know what type of relationship I want, but I have no idea how to weed through contenders. You’d think I’d have better asshole radar after a decade of dating, but I don’t. And I want to stab myself in the eye every time I hear the phrase “I’m just looking for a chill chick to, you know, hang with.”

Let’s discuss the phenomenon that is “the cool chick”

This concept is one that is pushed on women a lot. I absolutely hate the concept of her. She’s not real: she’s a sexist concept that was probably created by beer commercials.  From what I gather, a “cool” or “chill” chick is the following: unbothered by flakey-ness, DTF always, never gets too emotional, never gets jealous, loves “dude” activities (whatever that means), doesn’t need relationship labels, she’s adventurous, fearless, and is basically a guy with tits.

I have a few ladies in my coven that would fit the majority of those characteristics…but never too emotional? Always unbothered by flakey-ness? …that’s where I, and most women get lost: flakey-ness should never be tolerated, and being emotional is not a negative behavior. We should celebrate uniqueness from one another, and our emotions are one of those unique things we should not be ashamed to celebrate.

If someone stands me up or flakes on me multiple times, I will probably rid my life of that person (romantic or not). I don’t always like “dude” activities -I hate video games (if that’s a dude activity), and I only have sports knowledge when it’s relevant to me. I like labels (and label makers!), as I find that they assist in providing comfort in budding relationships. I am pretty adventurous, but I’m not even mildly fearless…. as I am afraid of almost everything. I am extremely emotional, and I have no shame in letting it be known that I basically have multiple personalities.

Yeah, I’m definitely not an ideal “cool chick”, and dating in my mid-twenties has been a total grab bag of mixed results. Unrealistic expectations make dating even harder. Women are not two-dimensional creatures. You can’t get the woman that loves sports, AND likes to keep things casual for THREE years. That’s not a thing, guys. We have complex personalities. We aren’t…men. I will probably always be adventurous, but also extremely neurotic and love labels (of all kinds).

Basically, dating in my twenties is the worst. And down with this “chill chick” concept!

To Be Continued,

B&B 

Erica I

Eleven

This was written by my new friend, Kevin Sullivan: 

I don’t even dream anymore. I just actively think of you while I tell myself that I’m asleep. It plays out exactly as you’d expect:

My dark room becomes a sunset of pinks, purples, and golds as my memories flood the room with the sweet smell of your hair. It could just be the indentation you left next to my head, trapping all of the things I loved about the suffocating mess you heaved in my face night after night.

But no matter how many times I turn the pillow over, it never seems to fade.

My room turns into an ocean, and your body its waves. They envelope me; surround me; drown me. But I’m ok. I breathe you in with short gasps, never quite getting enough, but not quite giving up. I don’t try to tread, but just float there instead. I know I’ll survive each night.

Lately these dreams haven’t seemed so bright. My bed has become my coffin, the floor a wasteland stretched miles ahead. My feet become heavier with each step I have to take before I reach the door; to reach you anymore.

So I’ll lay here, thinking of the dreams I should be having; watching the sun set over and over as I barely survive the tide; straining my eyes to see the door across the mile long floor keeping me from seeing you; thinking of dreaming of seeing you once more.

Thank you, Kevin, for sharing your beautiful words. Friends, feel free to share your thoughts on Kevin’s piece.

To Be Continued,

B&B