Facebook always sparks some interesting thoughts and discussions. I don’t understand why people can be so against it; open your mind to social media and maybe it won’t antagonize you so much.*
So I would give her credit, but I am sure she likes her anonymity, Beanie asked (kind of rhetorically, but I always answer anyway—read tagline above), “what is it about sex (good sex) that has people living in the illusion that they’re in love??” My original (not in the sense of originality, just meaning first answer) response was, “Chemicals in the brain that release good feelings when in the act. This is googable**, you know. lol ;)” I was feeling a tad narky (as usual). Little did we know it’d turn into an actual discussion that brought up relationships and ideas of such nature. This having happened sparked (this post) my thoughts on previous relationships. See, I am actually not very good at maintaining a full fledged relationship. I’m good until about the year and a half mark and then all hell breaks loose. Though ironically enough, I am excellent at giving people relationship advice. I feel it’s because even though I am highly opinionated, somewhat combative by nature, and truly stubborn at times; I can be very diplomatic and see two sides of the coin.
Let’s not get me wrong (that seems to happen sometimes), I am not saying that I am going to be, or qualified enough to be, the next greatest matchmaker or world renowned relationship counselor (brief note: I prefer relationship to marriage because some people prefer not to get married—see? Diplomatic). I guarantee that if you brought to me an issue you are having with your SO, I would be able to give you sound advice and if you have your blinders on to your partner, I’d help you remove those.
Yet, when it comes to my past relationships, I can’t seem to be diplomatic. Too much raw emotion, opinion, stubbornness, etc. I also have come to the realization that I need to stay away from people whose names begin with the letter ‘J’ (excluding family, of course). The 3 significant relationships to me, all the guys’ names started with a ‘J’. Jorge, James & Jimmy. Have I failed to mention that I run a tad bit on the superstitious side? I think it’s due to a little bit of paranoia. Just a hunch.
Jorge was, it’s hard to really put into words. He was something. I fell hard, I fell fast— I still have his sister on my Facebook. The relationship ended in 2006. I was so in love that there were certain signs of violence that I ignored and I can’t completely be sure if I really chose to ignore them or if I was in fact just blindly, madly, terrifyingly in love. I felt as if I had caught the dragon and all I wanted to do was bask in my achievement. The first sign ignored was at my roommate’s birthday party. We were only a month into school so it was 6/6/2005, a date not easily forgotten. I was piss drunk off tequila shots and beer pong. I was happy, it was a party, it was a beautiful day & I am a social butterfly so I was talking to everyone I passed. Well I don’t remember it happening, but sitting on the balcony, I remember I was across from Jorge, a guy talking to me supposedly touched my thigh. Jorge had an empty beer bottle in his hand and he crushed it. He cut his hand and I remember asking what did he do and trying to fix him up. He started accusing me of flirting and whatnot. I don’t remember much about that incident after that. It was a crazy love that turned toxic. Though I am older and possibly wiser, I don’t think I’ll ever forget him or be relieved from that little pang in my heart whenever I think of him or how we used to be.
James was a very short romance due to all the drugs we were using—and abusing. He was charismatic, funny, charming, intense (kind of like Jorge). I met him on my birthday (I don’t recall the year because I am bad at dates–whether due to my psychotic breaks or flighty mind, I am not sure) and he simply said, “Hello. I’m James.” Just the way he looked at me and introduced himself, it was kind of like Johnny Depp-ish. As a sober Jack Sparrow. A man that could make a lady swoon. I still have a spot for him, too.
Jimmy is the absolute opposite of the others. In fact, I was not attracted to him at all when we first met. He was quiet, shy, 10 years my senior. But the more I hung out with him, he grew on me. He was my longest relationship, but it felt more like a friendship. He never made me feel wanted. He wasn’t affectionate (I’m not that much either, but I like holding hands even if we are just laying on the couch). He bought me a puppy because I begged for one, took the puppy everywhere with him—I believed he loved the dog more than me, then kept said puppy when we broke up. Did I mention he bought the dog for me? He always showed the dog love and taunt me with how much he cared for the dog over me. Thinking through all of this, I have no idea why we lasted very long. He never said he loved me. On his own. Even before the dog. He tried to break it off twice. Why the fuck did I try to fight for us so hard when there really wasn’t an us? Maybe I just really wanted to be an us. I was tired of dating and I grew to love him. Technically that is kind of settling, but I guess I was willing to do that with him. There really is no pang with Jimmy when I think of him, at least not the pang like the others. It’s more like why did I love him more than he loved me?
Well, I am single. I am comfortable with myself and being single. For the next relationship I want some intensity. I’m attracted to that, as long as it’s not breaking beer bottles, hefting me up and throwing me, or holding me down to scream as hard as you can in my ear. That was all Jorge, in case you were wondering.
I’m good at relationships, as long as they aren’t my own.
*Facebook did not endorse this post, neither did any social media. I’m not that cool yet.
**googable, goog.a.ble: the ability to be googled. Soon to be trademarked and made into a word that is not underlined in red. Also coming soon, bingable. Stay tuned.