Oh hell; Just Gimme a Moment, I'm Getting Up

Sometimes I feel like I just can't take it anymore. The highs, the lows, the boring in betweens. Looking for Mr. Right behind every corner and only finding Mr. What-the hell-are-you-talking-about? is exhausting. Where is he? Hell at this point I might be willing to take a she, if the packaging was right.

Each day is a mind boggling adventure in perseverance. So I meet nice guys, or at least they seem nice right up until some unforeseen event. The event can be small or large, it can be funny or tragic, but what frustrates me is that I never see it coming. My friends, do. They laughingly tease me and muse amongst themselves that I should know better by now, or give me that condescending look when I come to them, eyes wide open, boldly asking what am I doing wrong? The answer is usually... so many things.

For the sake of this discussion, I have altered the names to protect the guys... today we will focus on Smarl, Litchell and Yogan. These guys are hot, intelligent, accomplished, sexy alpha males any woman would be proud to have on her arm. Yet each of them should have come with a decoder ring because it is beyond my capacity to understand what they want, why they behave the way they do and why it is so damn hard to communicate with and enjoy each other.

First we have Smarl, he is a well built, handsome, chocolate colored military officer who apparently has a bad case of Alzheimer's. When we first met, he was attentive, funny, sweet, even if he had the political views of a prepubescent, conservative, and was about as informed as a Lindsay Lohan on political policy. He had the most beautiful complexion you could imagine. Too bad he seemed to forget he was actually trying date/seduce me and would go into hiding for days or weeks at a time. Popping his head up from time to time, in the form of three word texts, as though we had just finished a conversation an hour ago, not two weeks ago instead, looking to go to dinner, movies or concerts as though we had just seen each other. I met Smarl around the same time as another prize, Litchell. And honestly, there was no contest, for me it was Litchell all the way.  But it seemed prudent, to get to know them both well, prior to making a decision about which one to choose. Assuming, the choice was mine to make. But before I could decide, Smarl and Litchell would always do some ridiculous thing that would make me question the likelihood of either actually being compatible with me.

Smarl and I dated a bit, but there was no real chemistry, we could never get beyond the kissing stage.  After a particularly long absence, he came back, like a puppy who had just found his way home.  He was still charming and fun, and as luck would have it, Litchell and I were beefing again. so it seemed appropriate.  Though, in the interest of being transparent, and not being too fresh, it was important he knew about Litchell, so I told him.  He was upset, and sad, but he said it was his fault for not being consistent and told me he wanted to try to make things work.  He convinced me that he understood our dates would be more like pals hanging out, until I knew what was going on with Litchell.  Smarl was easy to understand, my heart was not vested in him. He could never hurt me, so of course, I tried to make it work, goodness knows I did, especially when Litchell, some of you may know him as the Paper Narcissist, would show his ass. The fact that Smarl's phone never accepted actual "voice" messages was something I had initially been willing to overlook. Maybe he gets a lot of calls from solicitors...But Smarl never really did it for me. Combined with his disappearing acts, the lack of chemistry, and the fact that we had little in common and I just lost interest in him. I was on the verge of telling him it was not going to work out, when he must have "forgotten" he was trying to date me again, and went down whatever rabbit hole he jumped into whenever the mood struck. For those of you who think I am obtuse, yes of course I know he was dating other women and probably not interested also.

Yogan, was a tall, gorgeous stallion of a guy. Used to getting any woman within his field of vision and filled to the brim with enough cocky-asshole in his personality to be amusing about 20% of the time and annoying as hell the rest of the 80%. Harvard educated, and well versed in many languages, he was what my girlfriends would consider a "catch". The one time we actually went out, with friends, he spent most of the night telling me about all of the women at the bar, who so obviously wanted him. Even when that is true, dude - it's so rude to say it out loud, and makes you sound like a total douche. (metaphor alert) Chill, women find it so sexy to defend their food, when it's not yelling in their faces how much everyone else wants to eat it. He also had this strange way of constantly making me feel like a piece of meat he was on the verge of devouring, and he used my rejection of him as an aphrodisiac that fanned the flames of his desire for me until I was about ready to call the authorities. To say he could not take no for an answer was like saying Tiger had a wandering eye....

Then there was Litchell, a beautiful on the outside, and possibly as awesome on the inside, public servant.  He sure seemed like a wonderful, loving, sensitive guy, as long as you have a box of double strength Paxil in your medicine cabinet. I never met anyone so prone to mood swings. There just never seemed to be any rhyme or reason to what pushed one of his many buttons. It was not unusual for us to be enjoying a beautiful afternoon, just lounging about, when all of a sudden out of nowhere, there would be a "Litchell Moment".  These little moments came out of nowhere and usually resulted in my feelings being hurt, both of us feeling misunderstood and just a general feeling of frustration and confusion.  The great thing though was all that emotion created intense passion.  With Litchell, there was plenty of chemistry, lot's of interest, but little stability. The feelings (on my end at least) were intense but scattered all over the place, with no clear feeling that he would or even could reciprocate. His big, beautiful, heart seemed like an illusive, wild animal, always on the horizon, but forever out of reach.

For those of you familiar with my blog, or me personally, you will know who was my favorite. The one lion who stole my heart then rolled all over it with his big hairy ass. And even though I am a bit battered and bruised, I still believe in love. I believe in soul mates and the possibility of finding a person who can make your heart beat faster, who you can't wait to see when you wake up or whose voice you always long to hear. I have had love in my life - and so feel fortunate to realize that when it is good there is nothing better. Yet I want more, perhaps it's greedy to want to have another deep, passionate, soul shattering love that inspires me and captivates me, but it's what I want. And so even though giving up is an option, what many might do when faced with rejection, defection and loss of affection, I am gonna hang in there a little longer. Just in case he is still out there, waiting for me to turn a corner so he can see his future in my eyes too.