On March 27, 2016 I made a Tumblr account and told no one about it. I only wrote one entry, and I never posted it.
I feel stupid doing this, but writing has always seemed to help me figure my shit out. It doesn’t matter if anyone is reading it. I don’t plan on telling anyone I know about this. I think the issue is that I don’t really feel comfortable talking to people about my problems. Never really have.
I met someone. It’s not the first time I’ve been excited about meeting someone, but it’s the first time in a while that I’ve been this nervous about it in a long time. I shouldn’t be this nervous. What’s the worst that can happen. It doesn’t work out. Life goes on. I know this. But I’m still nervous. And it’s driving me nuts.
I worry that my anxiety is going to be what ultimately messes things up. I have no reason to believe she doesn’t like me, but I just can’t shake the feeling. In the past when I’ve feel like this it’s signaled the end of the relationship. Usually right as I start to get comfortable with someone that’s when they decide that they aren’t feeling it. That’s fine. The last thing I want is for someone to feel like they have to date me out of fear of hurting my feelings. But when it happened multiple times in a row, it’s hard to ignore that feeling.
This has been a pattern for the last few years. It started right as I was graduating college. I was in an off-and-on relationship. She liked me a lot more than I liked her. And it’s my fault for not being honest with her, but right as I was finally ready to take our relationship seriously she became disinterested and left me for a friend. That one is on me, but it’s what I feel set the precedent.
I met someone a few months later. Maybe longer. It was a long time friend, so I guess I didn’t exactly meet them, but it was the first time we had considered each other romantically. I tried to take everything that I learned from my previous failed relationship and apply it to this one. I wasn’t tolerant enough before. I wasn’t open enough about my feelings. I’m still not. But I was trying harder. After a few months she realized that it wasn’t working and started pretending to be into me because she was afraid of ruining our friendship. It hurt, but I took it well. We’re still friends.
I met a woman at a grocery store. Sounds like something out of a movie. I fucked that one up. She was in a polyamorous relationship and I thought I could handle that. The anxiety was too much to handle so I broke it off and started seeing someone else.
That “someone else” dated me as an experiment to see if she was ready for a relationship. She wasn’t. I guess that’s what we call karma.
Tried things out with the grocery store woman again and it actually went really well. I was over my anxiety of her seeing other people. We were having more fun than ever. Expect that she didn’t think of me as a boyfriend, and I didn’t know that until a few months in. Double karma.
I met someone around the time I was with her the second time. Remember she was poly so that was okay. I was totally upfront with everyone involved. That’s part of the lifestyle, I guess. Things went really well on our first date. Afterwards I she told me that I was part of some experiment to go on dates with men she wasn’t interested in. What the fuck?
Met a woman online. She lived over two hours away, but she had plans to move to the city in the coming months. She still has not done this. We were together for maybe four months. I really liked her. A lot. We had nothing in common, but it didn’t bother me because we had fun together. Conversation is so much more important to me than what your favorite band is. The last month of our relationship was one-sided. Right as I was comfortable telling other people about her.
Several months go by and I start dating an old friend. Someone I used to live with. We hit it off immediately. I honestly thought I was finally going to settle down. Things just worked with her. It was the first time in ages that I was able to be so open with someone. All the things that had caused problems in the past were no longer problems. I was more open. More tolerant. I wasn’t jealous when she would hang out with guy friends.
I came home one day to find that she moved out when I was at work. We didn’t have a fight the day before or anything. This caught me completely off guard. Like something out of a film. Again.
This brings me to now. It’s been almost five months since that happened, and I’ve met someone new. I like them a lot. Probably too much.
So far I’ve been wrong about her at almost every turn. I was so certain that when I asked her out that she’d say no. She didn’t. I didn’t think I’d get a second date. I did. Clearly, I wasn’t going on a third.
I have an overwhelming amount of evidence that tells me that I shouldn’t be worried. Every time we go out she acts warmer towards me. She will text me just to say hi. She told me bluntly that she likes me. So why the fuck can’t I just let myself believe it?
Sure. This could still blow up in my face. She could change her mind for any reason. It doesn’t matter. The problem is that worrying about it doesn’t solve anything. My delusions are getting worst, too. I get nervous when I don’t here from her all day, and I don’t know why. It’s not like I think she’s out with another guy. And even if I did, she’s allowed to do that. Probably. I’m not really sure. We haven’t defined the relationship, but I promise you that if I went on a date with another woman and she found out, it would be over between us.
But that’s what’s bizarre about my mindset. I’m not worried about her leaving me for another guy or going and fucking someone else. It’s more worry about her being indifferent about our potential relationship. But even that shouldn’t be a problem. I haven’t even known her a month, so I can’t expect her to be that invested. I shouldn’t be this invested, and I know that’s its just my irrational mind fucking with me. I’m not under any delusion that we’re going to get married and start a family. I do, however, believe that we have potential to see each other long-term.
And I think that’s what frightens me. That we have potential. I don’t get the spark very often. I know that’s irrational romantic bullshit based purely on instinct, but it’s hard to ignore that feeling when you meet someone. The spark doesn’t automatically mean you’re going to be with someone. I got the spark with several of the people that I’ve talked about, and none of those relationships made it to even a year.
But it’s still fun to be excited about what could happen. I just wish I could turn off the nonsense and enjoy that excitement.
It’s really fucking with my head. And I know I’m wrong to let it bug me. I like to believe that’s progress. I used to think everyone else was crazy.
Fuck. I’m trying to set up a date right now. What the fuck is wrong with me? I guess that’s not actually crazy. That’s literally what you do with people you like.
Maybe it’s because I haven’t been drinking. Does that make sense? I used alcohol as a crutch for a long time. But I’ve only been sober for a week or less, so that’s probably not it. I do miss it, though.
I was nervous before, though. It’s unreal how nervous I get around her. I have no reason to be as nervous as I am, but I just can’t help myself. The last time I remember being this nervous around someone was when I was 19. I was in love with someone I worked with. Kind of.
I was a janitor at an office building. It was a pretty sweet job at the time. I still miss it, even though I know I couldn’t afford to live on the wage anymore. But for being 19 with no bills, it felt like I was rich.
I was living in four bedroom apartment with 6-8 other guys. Yeah…I suppose that sounds crazier now that I’m writing it down, but it made sense back then. Rent was only $200/month for me. Fuck, I miss that.
Every night I would go an clean this three floor office building by myself. Took about five hours, but I’d always put 6.5 on my timecard. It was schedule to take 6.5 hours, so my boss never questioned it.
I met a woman while I was cleaning her office. She was magical to me. Still is to an extent. Her world was so fascinating to me. She had a very rough upbringing, and she would tell me stories about it once and a while. She also started going to college at a very young age. She was brilliant. Mysterious. Elusive. Beautiful.
I used to deliberate on the order of words for text messages. I would ration text messages so I didn’t seem desperate. We’re still friends to this day, and we actually dated for a brief period, so I’m over that anxiety now, but it’s crazy looking back on it. I was so calculated with every move. The irony of all of it was that she just wanted to fuck me back then and I was so blind with anxiety that it never happened. Not then, at least.
That’s how I am now, and I feel ridiculous.
It dawned on me the other night why I’m so crazy with her. I have more on the line than she does. I don’t doubt her feelings, but I know that a new boyfriend isn’t a top priority. I’m probably on the list, but lower than everything else. There’s a lot of chaos in her life right now, and I can’t expect to be number one. That’s unfair to her, and to try to push that on her would only push her away so I’m fighting this battle in my head alone. There’s also the fact that if I indulge my thoughts it could become a pattern. Yes, I’m crazy now, but I’m aware that I’m being irrational and actively fighting it. That’s why I’m writing.
It’s sounds melodramatic to says she’s all I have. And it’s no true, but I can’t think of how to word it. I have a great job. I love my apartment. I have a working car. The only thing that I don’t feel fulfilled in in my romantic life. Sure, I could make more money or have a better car, but that will come as I gain more experience in my career. You could say the same thing about romance. It comes and goes. It has come and gone. Life will go on if this amounts to nothing. If anything I’ll learn a lot about myself from this experience, but that’s not an excuse to be indifferent about it.
I have to wonder how normal people do this. Like, I’ll meet people that have been in very long relationships and I have to assume that they met under less crazy circumstances than this. I should word that better. What I mean is that they probably didn’t obsess about dumb shit the way I do now.
I caught myself rewriting multiple text messages over the last two days. Its’ when I noticed that I was losing it. I think it’s good that I did notice it or it could’ve gotten worse. My hope is that I can overcome this before it becomes a bigger problem.
I actually had something like his happen with the polyamorous woman. I used to be crazy with her. I got really obsessive with checking my phone when I texted her. And what does that solve? It just makes me crazy. She’ll text me when she feels like it, and if she doesn’t that doesn’t mean anything. People don’t obsessively respond to text messages the way I do. And, fuck, even I don’t respond to everything. I’ve forgotten to respond to direct questions before.
I just want to be free from these irrational feelings. I want to believe that knowing it’s crazy will help me. If you know what you’re doing is irrational and you can trace it to the root of the problem that can help. I’ve puzzled out why this matters so much to me. And I’ve come up with several logical reasons for why she’s not being insane like I am, but I’m still out of my mind.
To be fair, I don’t know that she isn’t being crazy, but it’s not productive to proceed with the assumption that’s she’s also a neurotic dork. I’m not sure that would solve anything either. She’s just a busy lady that likes a crazy boy.