Why I might be Crazy, v2.0: She’s like a friggin’ Jedi

Oh, she’s good.  She’s continued to take and take, while giving nothing, and she’s managed to make me feel like the whole thing is my fault.  She’s like a friggin’ Jedi.

The Latest:  She asked if I consider myself single.  “Yes,” I reply, since I don’t have a girlfriend.  The follow up question was, “So if a girl asked you out on a date, you would go?”  “Sure,” I said, “depending on the girl.  If I wanted to go.”  Let’s unpack this for a second.  Societal norms in American culture dictate that in heterosexual dating, the man usually asks the woman out on a date.  I can’t remember the last time I was asked out that didn’t involve the name Sadie Hawkins.  But ok, if this mythical female asker-outer, who has somehow caught my eye, asks me out and I want to go, then yes, I’d probably go.  Hypothetically.

“Then you’re not choosing me.”

She proceeds to tell me that she’s going to accept the fact that we’ve broken up (2 months ago), and she’s going to move on.  OK, so what she wants is a guy to date her exclusively.  Back in the Philippines, we have a term for something like that.  It’s…um… BOYFRIEND.

The nail in the coffin is that I’ve been walking around for the past few days feeling guilty about hurting her.  But wait, what exactly did I do to her?  Break up with her 2 months ago?

She told me that the reason she didn’t want to talk to me, during the weeks before we broke up, was that she thought we’d fight.  And she was so busy that she didn’t have time to fight with me.  I accept that.  We had been fighting.  Our recurring fight was that I was feeling like she was putting our relationship on the back burner (because she’s so “busy”), and it’s hard enough being long distance.  I just wanted some reassurance that she still wanted to be with me because her actions were saying otherwise.  Her response to me was that she didn’t want to feel responsible for my feeling secure in our relationship and that I should figure it out for myself.  So instead of continuing to be an active part of this relationship, she chose to duck and cover.

And now that we’re broken up, I’m supposed to choose her?

This coming from the woman who told me she didn’t want to be “in a relationship,” then continued to date me for 4 more months, saying that she wanted to see where things would go between us.  She eventually told me that she loved me, and a month later hooked up with another guy while she was out of town.  But she made me feel like I didn’t understand the circumstances because she had made it clear that we weren’t TECHNICALLY boyfriend/girlfriend.

She says things like, “You think I’m a horrible person,” and “I ruined your life.”  We even had a conversation a while back about how she felt that she had projected a lot of her guilt and insecurity on me throughout our relationship.  But it all came up again in this latest conversation.  How I think she’s a “bad person.”  The only thing I could say in reply is, “If you took a look at a transcript of our conversation, you wouldn’t see the words “bad person” until right now. YOU keep saying that, not me.”

Look, I know it’s hard, but sometimes when you fuck up, the best thing to do is admit it.  Going around saying, “but look at all the times I didn’t fuck up,” doesn’t really get you anywhere.  It makes you look like you’d rather protect your ginormous ego than admit that you did something wrong once.

“I hurt you and I’m sorry” goes a long way.  A much longer distance than “I didn’t do anything wrong!  except for that one thing.”  Because, ultimately, that one thing can be pretty important.

Her unwavering defense of her out-of-town make out only served to further devalue my feelings about the situation.  Every time she said, “I haven’t done anything since we’ve been exclusive,”  just reminded me that she still thinks that I was being unfair to her by allowing her cheating tendencies (for lack of a better term) to hurt me.

And now that we’re broken up, I’m supposed to be choosing her?

The big question mark in my brain was, why is she calling me from the grocery store to have this conversation?  Did she not think that this might be something I might want to talk about?  She kept saying that she HAD to talk to me today.  She HAD to. Then she abruptly had to go because other people were depending on her for something.  Her roommates were leaving to go somewhere.

Through the magic of facebook, I found out that they were going to a party.  Ahhhhhh, so.  She HAD to talk to me?  That day?  Before the party?

OK, I’m not an idiot.  I’ve been made to feel like my imagination is overactive at times, but come on.  Is it possible that she called to get my “permission” to make out with whoever this new guy is, and he was gonna be at the party?  She’s been so wracked with guilt since the last time she went out of town and made out with some guy, that this time she wanted to get me to push her into the arms of another guy.  I can hear her rationalization right now.  “But I told you that since you weren’t choosing me that I was going to move on.”

Oh, she’s good.  She’s continued to take and take, while giving nothing, and she’s managed to make me feel like the whole thing is my fault.  She’s like a friggin’ Jedi.

Why I Might be Crazy

As I watched the Vikings game today, I thought about how shitty it must be to be a place kicker in the NFL.  A lot of times, your team will run out the clock putting all their trust, hopes, and dreams on you to put it between the uprights.  You get one shot.  One moment can drastically change your life.

I might be crazy.  It’s like the episode of the Twilight Zone where everybody’s face is jacked up except for that one woman, who’s gorgeous by our standards, but they keep telling her that she needs to get plastic surgery.  Yep, it’s that kind of crazy.

I keep hoping that there’s a woman out there who can tell me she loves me without completely betraying my trust.  I’ve been told that it was my fault for not satisfying her needs, or that “it just happened,” or I was being unreasonable because, based on some technicality, we weren’t boyfriend/girlfriend.

I feel like I’m the crazy one because there are people out there who wonder why I’m not married, tell me I’m a catch, and say all kinds of nice things about me.  But for some reason, the women I’m attracted to make me feel like what I bring to the table isn’t that special.

I feel crazy because I’m starting to think that saying I love you is one of the worst things you can say to a person.  Those who know don’t talk and those who talk don’t know.  When someone says that they love you, I’d really like to believe them, but I don’t.  Just shut up and put your money where your mouth is.

I might be crazy because I thought that being in love was enough for someone to want to be in a relationship with you.  Apparently it isn’t.  I guess this is like Junior High all over again.  You gotta pass her a note that says, “Will you go out with me?  Check yes, no, or maybe.”

I might be crazy because if you’re with me, I’ll probably assume that you are going to run off on me.

It’s the knee jerk reactions.  I recently called my X (yes, we’ve started talking again) and she didn’t pick up.  Usually she turns off her phone when she’s going to bed, so I was surprised that it rang and she didn’t answer.  But the knee jerk was this:  Instead of thinking, “maybe she’s asleep,” I thought, “She’s probably with some guy.”

I can look at a picture of a group of people and tell if anyone in the picture has a crush on anyone else.  In the past, I’ve used this skill to determine whether or not my girlfriend has been cheating on me.  And I’ve been right every time.  It’s just like Spiderman says, with great power comes great responsibility.  I gotta figure out how to deal with this superpower.

I wish that one day someone will look at me and tell their friends that I’m too happy to realize how miserable I am, rather than the other way around.

It would be different if I wasn’t constantly hearing from my female friends about their loser boyfriends and how they won’t even take them to the movie they want to see or call at decent intervals.  It would be different if I didn’t see these amazing women settling for these nothing guys.  It would be different if I could just take every cheating, ignorant, overly aggressive, “bad boy” aside, smack them upside the head and tell them they’re making me look bad.  But the reality is that they are the ones who make me look good.  But still either not good enough or too good to be true.

Doc Brown and Marty McFly taught me about the space-time continuum.  One moment can change the course of history.  And sometimes I just want to hop in my Delorian and go back 10 minutes before she kisses him and tell her that she’s throwing it all away.  But I shouldn’t have to.  She’s not an idiot.  She, like a drug addict, took full stock of me and our future together and still decided to get her fix.

And that one moment changed everything.

Be the Man You Want to Marry

I gotta give due props to Facebook cuz this isn’t a Wily original.  I was checkin’ out the ol’ news feed the other day and a friend of mine (someone who I don’t really keep up with) had this as her status.

My sister used to have one of those lists.  Several of my Xs have had one of those lists.  I get it.  It’s cool, a girl’s gotta have standards, right?  But you gotta ask yourself, if you’re demanding that you won’t even look at a guy who isn’t–

taller then you, who supports himself, will cook for you, rub your feet, watch girly movies with you, makes enough money to spoil you, knows how to dress himself, stays in shape, is spontaneous, surprises you with flowers for no reason, has a nice car, will go shopping with you, has a great sense of humor, is a free spirit, wants to travel to exotic places, loves his mom, won’t get jealous of all the guys you hang out with, will take you to a fancy dinner every once in a while, will tell you you’re beautiful and not just “hot,” won’t make a big deal over girl’s night out, has a six pack, doesn’t even look at other girls when he’s out with you, opens doors for you, will go with you to the Art Museum he hates just because you want to, will tell you he loves you even in front of his buddies, reads, keeps up on current events, is a good listener, watches all the same trashy reality shows you do, can keep up his side of a conversation and be intellectually stimulating, will hold you when you’re sad or depressed, has blond-ish hair and dark eyes, doesn’t try to fix all your problems when all you want to do is vent, has something in his life that he is passionate about, and can meet your needs in the sack,

–then what exactly do you bring to the table?  How many of your own criteria do you fit?  If you think these things are important for you to receive, as a strong independent woman, why don’t you do them for yourself?

Realistically, how often do we look at the person we’re dating and think, “What do I do for them?”

As my last relationship began to wane, she told me she wanted me to be more philosophical and mentally stimulating in our conversations on the phone.  Part of the problem was the idea of being put on the spot during what was usually a 5 or 10 minute conversation before bedtime because we live in different cities.  ”Can you do it?” I asked.  ”If I said, ’say something profound,’ could you?”  ”No,” she replied, “but that’s what I want in a partner.”  So I tried to keep track of anything halfway decent that would pop into my head through the course of the day, so I could tell her about it, hoping to meet her needs.  And when it came down to it and the long distance was starting to get to me, I asked her to help me feel more secure about things by admitting that there’s some stress in our relationship from being long distance.  ”…Do it yourself,” she responded, “why should I be responsible for whether or not you feel secure?”

A Quick Note About My Cup

It hit me like a ton of bricks square in the face the other day while I was walking around the Mall:  I need to empty my cup.

There was once a Zen master who was known far and wide for his wisdom.  Many people came to visit with him with the hopes of catching a glimpse of his insights.  One day, a very wealthy and powerful man came to see the Zen master.  The wealthy man asked the master to teach him Zen so that he would be enlightened.  So the master began to teach.  The wealthy man, hoping to impress the Zen master with a demonstration of his vast knowledge, would interrupt the master’s teachings to interject some amusing anecdote or some teaching he had previously heard.  When the tea was served, the master began to pour the tea into the cup of the wealthy man.  The cup filled to the brim and began to overflow, and the master continued to pour.  Spilling the tea on his expensive robes, the wealthy man, stood and said, “Master, can’t you see that the cup is full?”  The master smiled and said, “You are like this cup, so full that nothing more can be added.  You are full of your own ideas and opinions.  How can you learn anything unless you first empty your cup?

I’ve been in Good Boyfriend mode for a long time.  I’d be walking around the Mall and I’d see something that my girlfriend might like, and I’d file that away.  I’d get a good date idea, and file that away.  Or I’d even be talking to her and hear about something she saw and was interested in, and I’d file that away.

I have all this energy that has been trained to make sure that I’m being the thoughtful boyfriend, constantly looking for clues as to how I could make the woman I love smile.  The trouble I’m having, now that that’s over, is in the harnessing and redirecting of that energy.  My cup is full of this energy, and unless I empty myself of it I won’t be able to move forward.

This is part of my nature.  I don’t think that this behavior is a bad thing.  It’s just that when all this mental, physical and emotional energy has been devoted so long to a singular pursuit, and suddenly the trail goes cold, what can I do to keep that energy from leading me down the expressway to Negative Town?

Case in point:  Early in our relationship, she told me that she loved Skyline Chili, from the Ohio area.  On one of our first dates, she sacrificed her last can to make some for me.  You can’t really get it here in Minnesota, so I sent her a case of it via the internet while she was working out of town.  Much to my dismay, She didn’t quite put two and two together, and she thought they were from someone else (I suspect that this was due to the fact that she was interested in another guy while she was out of town, but I digress).  I recently recalled this story and it was like a punch to the gut.  It emptied the air from my lungs, the wind from my sails.  My Good Boyfriend Mode was set on High, and it yielded a very disappointing result.  So I spiraled down, led by the same energy that kept telling me to “remember she likes Skyline Chili”.

I wouldn’t say that it’s frantic energy, it’s just lost its bearings.  So now it’s bouncing around my head and heart absolutely directionless like the DVD standby icon thingy that gets bumped around the screen.

My cup runneth over, and not in a good way.  Time to tip some out for my homies.

Gimme a Break, Giiiiimme a Break, Break Me Off a Piece of That…

“I think we need to take a break.”

“We’re already on a break.  We’re away from each other.”

This line is still ringing in my ears.  Ok, yeah, long distance relationships are hard.  I don’t know anyone who would dispute that.  To a certain extent, she was right.  What’s the difference between being together and breaking up?  The extra 5 minutes we get to sleep since we’re not calling each other to say goodnight.

I’ve noticed how quiet my phone is lately.  She and I texted a lot more than we talked, and when I wouldn’t respond to her text I’d definitely be hearing about it.  And since my phone seems to be taking a break, I’m realizing that while she didn’t have a great presence in my day to day life, she had a huge presence in my heart.

My roommates bear the brunt of my daily lamentations.  The other day I expressed some confusion about why I’m feeling the way I am, and I was told this:

“You gave her your heart.”

I know full well that the only thing that kept her from making out with other guys were the words Boyfriend and Girlfriend.  We’d been over this before.  It was the title that mattered to her, and it was the feeling that mattered to me.  This came up when we first started dating and another guy came into the picture.

“Technically, we’re not Boyfriend/Girlfriend.”  She’d say.

“But you’ve been telling me you love me.”

She’s incredibly attractive and intriguing, so I’m sure that she’s had to fend of more than a few guys during our time together, and now that the label has peeled off, she’s free to avail herself of all the tonsil-hockey she can stomach.  And if she really meant what she said, that we were already on a break from each other, then perhaps she isn’t struggling as much as I am.

But that’s just it:  I’m struggling more than I thought I would.  Because I love her and that doesn’t go away so easily.  I wouldn’t have been able to spend any significant time with her for the next 3 months or so anyway, and that became problematic.  Especially since her track record spoke for itself.  Every time she’d gone out of town for work in our dating life, despite the passion we had for each other, the “I love you’s,” and big spoon/little spoon relationship we’d worked out over more than a few amazing nights, we still weren’t “technically” Boyfriend/Girlfriend.  And there was always another guy whose attention she’d accept.

At the end of the road, all I wanted was for her to acknowledge that the distance was causing some stress.  Here’s where things start to get weird for me.  I’ve always heard women talk about wanting their guy to want to go above and beyond, to choose to do things they might not normally do, but to be motivated by the desire to make her happy.  That’s essentially what I wanted from her.  I just wanted her to know that, considering my past experiences (including the few incidents in the early stages of our relationship), a long distance relationship was difficult for me.  And I simply wanted her to want to put my mind at ease.

I used to be a guy who gave her a vase and promised to keep it full.  A guy that promised himself that he’d never give her the same kind of flowers twice.  A guy who cooked a week’s worth of food for her during a particularly busy stretch in her schedule.  A guy who, rather than send flowers or candy, found a website where he could order her favorite chili and have it sent to her on the road.  A guy that could tell her anything and feel like she wouldn’t judge him.  A guy that used to climb trees.  A guy that loved without fear.

What happened to that guy?  The fear ultimately consumed him; swallowed him whole.  That guy is gone.  He’s been on break for a long time now.  So long, in fact, that he’s no longer missed.

Well, break’s over.

Thank God for Cheaters

As I’ve been isolated from the outside world by my newly injured back as well as the sub-zero weather, I’ve had a lot of time to think and to read.  And as 2008 comes to a close, I can’t help but review the highlights of the year-gone-by.  So I’ve come to this:

Thank God for Cheaters.

I know I’ve devoted a good deal of consonants and vowels toward dealing with my disdain and anger about the situations I’ve found myself in romantically, but it’s time for me to get off the mat and lift a finger to the lord.  No, not that one.  The one next to it.  Yep.  That one.

Whether you believe that there’s a divine plan or not, or if you’d rather call it fate or destiny, it seems to me that it’s all in the way you look at it.  It could be a random sequence of events, or there could be a purpose behind all the… I think the doctors prefer the term “discomfort.”  And whatever it might have been for them wimmins that done broke my heart, all I know is that they’re someone else’s problem now.  Good riddance: Don’t let the door hit’cha where the good lord split’cha.

I don’t know if I totally believe in destiny, but from where I sit it looks like the world out there has a natural balance to it.  And maybe that’s all destiny is, really: the world just trying to stay level.  And maybe part of that process is that some people fight, and others live to fight another day.

Just about everything I know about relationships by watching my parents.  Yeah, they fight, they nag each other, they argue.  But, most of all, they love.  And no matter what happens, they will always put each other first.  I suppose that’s what happens after nearly 40 years of marriage.  Naively, I took that and went on my merry way in search of that great love that people write epic poems about, but the thing is that not everyone knows what love like that looks like.  And for some women, as the hard way has taught me, the prospect of being loved like that is pretty friggin freaky.

Hearts get broken along the way, but you gotta keep in mind that it’s all for the greater good. It’s all meant to keep the world from tipping over and spilling all over the place.  Cuz no one is gonna wanna clean that up.  Maybe my heart had to be broken to save a life, bring rain to a drought-stricken area, or help Scarecrow get a new brain.  Either way, if it weren’t for being cheated on, my own stubbornness and propensity toward blind devotion would have kept me in some really (for lack of a better word) shitty relationships.  I guess the best lesson I’ve learned this year (actually just the last few weeks) is that emotional pain is like credit:  You can either pay it all off right away in one lump sum, or you can pay it off little by little and keep it looming over your head like a bad day.

So here’s where it Begins (I thought it might end here, but this seems to be the first step rather than the last).  Experience helps you realize what you are not, and once those puzzle pieces are in place you start to see what you are.  So to all those cheaters in my past:  Thank You…

For showing me what friendship is: People with the maturity to not feel compelled to pick sides and who will do what’s best for you as their friend while doing what’s best for me as my friend.

For encouraging me to be even more proud to be Filipino.  My kids are gonna be brown anyway, and that shouldn’t be something that anybody has to “deal with.”

For helping me see that keeping quiet and sacrificing my own wants and needs almost never turns out well.

For demonstrating that it takes courage to allow yourself to be loved.

You’ve taught me a lot, oh Cheaters of my past, but most of all you’ve helped me uncover bits and pieces of who I am.  And while I’m still a work in progress, it’s time for me to stop carrying around all that debt and making perfectly innocent women pay.  So this is it.  Your lump sum.

I mean, imagine the alternative:  We could still be together.

At least I have that going for me.

On Being a Chump

My problem is that I lead with my heart.  This is something I would have thought was desirable.  I could be like the typical view of men and lead with my penis, but no.  I lead with my heart and that’s problematic.  Mainly because the stereotype of men is that we think with our little soldier’s brain instead of our real one, so naturally if people assume that all guys are motivated by sex, it makes people suspicious when they run into someone who is actually motivated by love.  They end up spending their time and energy waiting for the other shoe to drop or trying to figure out the ulterior motive—the one that leads to me getting sex.

Something about movie love has always intrigued me.  But what I’m realizing is that kind of love is the exception and not the rule. That’s why those stories are told, because they’re extraordinary.  The lesson I need to learn here is that I’m the rule and not the exception.  My natural tendency is to believe that if I just stick it out, if I work harder and go that extra mile, if I prove to her that I am who I claim that I am, she’ll one day see me for who I am and ultimately choose me.  Cue the orchestra, roll credits, fade to black.

The trouble with that is I end up waiting.  Waiting around for some girl to realize that she’s got a great guy standing right in front of her.  I cringe when I hear my female friends bitch about how there aren’t any good guys out there because if girls want to find a good guy, you’d think they’d be aware enough to realize when they have a good guy.  But alas, most girls are so fixated on proving the stereotype right than seeing things as they really are.  So I’m relegated to being “that guy who I went to that thing with once,” or worse, “too good to be true.”

Here’s something potentially controversial: there are even fewer good girls than good guys.  And by “good” I mean “capable of getting out of their own way to recognize a good thing when they see it.”  Most girls I’ve met start out defensive.  They need to make sure that they understand the situation, are in control, and are not giving anything away.  They are more inclined to see the potential for dishonor in a man than the good in him—at least in the beginning.  But is that the foundation you want to build a relationship on?

A friend of mine told me that girls get weird when they think they don’t deserve something.  I suppose that’s true of most people.  If you think you don’t deserve something, you end up taking it for granted or feeling guilty about having it.  Suddenly, your actions are motivated by either your ignorance or your guilt instead of something more pure.  So when the universe presents you with a guy you don’t think you deserve, you start pushing him away whenever things start to get really good.  It quells the guilt, and you’re back to your blissfully ignorant life of wondering where all the good guys are.

I could be the guy who says, “Fuck it, I’m just gonna go out there and bag as many trophies as I can.” But you and I both know that’s not me.  Why should I change just to prove them right?

I suppose some women will never see me for who I really am.  There’re plenty of people who think they know me but really haven’t put in the time or effort to understand me.  They’ll pass me by with a fleeting thought or one word description like “he’s nice,” or “he’s cute.”  And that’s ok.  I’m ok with being the guy that could have been the love of your life, as long as you’re ok with taking the chance at losing me.

So, ladies, close your eyes, tell yourself that you don’t know anything about me, and when you open them, let’s start from square one.  I lead with my heart and at least one of you will eventually be ok with that.  Let me be who I am and if that’s not what you’re looking for, we’ll go our separate ways.  You can either be the story or the prologue.  Your choice.

Something’s happening and I don’t know what

There’s a girl I know (for the sake of anonymity, we’ll call her “Sheila”) who’s basically the type of girl who’s stuck being the popular kid in high school. She’s in her 20s and, for lack of a better description, is a lot like Paris Hilton. My opinion. We’ll just leave it at that.

She got married a few months ago, which was a surprise to me since I’d never met the guy, heard his name, even heard that they were dating. So that suggests to me that it was a whirlwind romance type of thing. From what I hear, people were taking bets on how long this thing would last. Anyway, like I said, this was the first I’d heard of the guy. Actually, I found out on Facebook that they were getting married.

Oh, Facebook. How I love thee.

Within the last few days a couple of interesting status changes have taken place over Facebook. First,
Sheila went back to just using her maiden name. Then she changed her relationship status to show that she was no longer married. Then she changed her relationship status to show that she’s engaged to someone else who, I’m told, is gay. I’m also friends with her sister on Facebook, who changed her status to say “[Sheila's Sister] is loving her sister, [Sheila's Husband] sucks balls!” Intriguing? Maybe. Overly Dramatic? Definitely.

So while all of this is taking place in Cyberspace, I’m sure that there are 2 people, with several more along the periphery, who are going through something terrible. Or not. Maybe this is just a publicity stunt. But it just feels like they’re airing out their dirty laundry for everyone to see. And it’s probably making it worse for everyone involved.

I don’t know why Sheila just doesn’t write it all down in a note or blog and post it to her profile page. She’s basically vying for everyone’s attention anyway with all these shenanigans about being engaged to some other guy after she’d been married for a couple months. Or maybe she wants to seem slutty. Or like she cheated. Her call. Does she want me to write her and say something pitying?

I sincerely hope that whatever they’re going through turns out for the best. I just don’t need to see it in various forms over Facebook. That shit is just childish and passive aggressive and petty. And she is just bringing this on herself. Hmmm. Maybe the Paris Hilton thing was closer than I thought.

Damaged Goods

I’m what many people refer to, in the common vernacular, as damaged goods. I’m all marked down and sitting peacefully in the clearance aisle. Maybe I’ll put a sticker on me that points out my “irregularity.”

I really like The Girl I’m Dating. Really. She’s been very clear about us not being BF/GF just yet, which isn’t a problem for me as long as it’s still a possibility. And I really like her. The way I know I really like her is that feeling I get in the pit of my stomach when my mind trails off and I start to wonder if she’s dating anyone else. I mean, I know that I’m a good guy and everything, but it’s that damn Pavlovian thing I got going on.

Bringing past baggage into new relationships has always pissed me off. The idea of making someone else pay for your X’s mistakes just makes me wanna punch a baby. But the reality is that we can internalize some of that shit and carry it with us. So in the spirit of cleaning out my closet, I’m going to put it out there for the cyber-universe to hear:

(drumroll please)

I’ve been cheated on a few times.

TA-DA!

Not a huge revelation, but it’s something that I don’t like to admit. The somewhat harsher reality is that of all the times I’ve been cheated on, there was only one time that the guy she cheated with wasn’t white. Layer in the fact that there have been a number of parents who just couldn’t handle the idea of their daughter in a King & I relationship, or dating a Filipino specifically, and we’ve got ourselves a therapy session waiting to happen, folks.

For me, it’s not so much the imagery or bigotry, but it’s the conditioning. I know, intellectually, that I’m a good guy and that any girl who doesn’t see what I bring to the table doesn’t deserve it. But when big brother Ivan starts ringing his friggin’ bell, I can’t help but start to drool.

I’ve promised TGID that I’m not gonna bring that baggage into our thing, but I don’t know how not to. It’s a knee-jerk reaction, and I gotta give myself a 10 count and do a little Stuart Smalley affirmation whenever I feel it kicking in. Maybe that’s enough.

Our past experiences make us who we are, for better or worse. And I know that this is one of those dragons I gotta slay in order to really be able to trust and love again. It’s a big fuckin’ fire breathing, ugly, mean ass dragon. But the fight is all worth it if it means that I get to love someone like her.