What’s Wrong with All of Us?

Truthfully, I don’t even know where to start with all of this … I feel like it’s all been said before, brought up before and discussed at length. But fuck it. I’m going to bring it up again.

When it comes to dating and interacting with other “adults” these days, there’s something seriously wrong with the majority of the public out there. Not physically wrong, but emotionally and mentally even.

Then it got me thinking: Am I the one in the wrong? Please, fuck, tell me I’m not the one in the wrong.

I’m in my mid-30s now.  By societal standards, I should be established enough in my life, myself and my career to be a contributing part of society and a decent human being. Well, somewhere along the way, recently-turned-30-year-olds lost the fucking memo.

Opening up to anyone is never an easy thing. Opening up to anyone today is a veritable minefield of fuck-ups and disasters. I’ve come to accept that we ALL have baggage and issues and scars that have molded us into the people we are today. Some hide all that, some use it to their advantage, and some cover it up entirely (not the wisest thing).

About two years ago, I wrote a post about dating in my 30s and how messed up it was. Well, not much as changed since then. It’s the same, if not worse. And I don’t think it’s just because of my age. I’ve heard of 19-yr-olds complaining of the same scenarios, and that makes me sad.

We’ve lost the ability to be authentic. We’ve lost the desire to divulge our deepest secrets. We’ve lost trust. We’ve lost understanding. We’ve lost devotion.

I hate meeting a new guy. I do. I hate the “getting to know you” phase. I hate explaining what I do for a living. I hate laughing in a fake and interested way (if I’m not, and truthfully, I’m generally not) and pretending to be engaged in his amusing stories about the gym that aren’t amusing at all. I hate the small talk.

Thanks to today’s technology, monogamy seems to have taken a back seat.  Sure, you can be “in a relationship” with someone, but ask to see their phone and see the panic in their eyes. Relationships can build and flourish via text, messenger, IG … virtual affairs are a real thing and I can’t help but consider that every time I meet someone new and I realize how much we each check our phones.

I hate it.

I also highly dislike the attempt at dirty talk that just has me rolling my eyes because he’s used the same line as the last 10 guys. Don’t tell me you wish I was getting into the shower with you when the topic comes up. Don’t tell me you want to know what I’m wearing. Don’t tell me you wish I was beside you in bed late at night. Tell me ANYTHING ELSE, literally. Quote fucking Poe or Frost or even Stephen King … ANYTHING ELSE.

Wait, that makes me sound bitchy and perhaps rather slutty.

But here’s the truth: I’ve not slept with anyone in months (yes, read that again, MONTHS), and I’ve been single for over 6 months. My 5-year-old son recently discovered my vibrator under a pillow on my bed and proceeded to bring it into the living room (turned on and vibrating) while I was sitting with a girlfriend claiming that he really liked it and could he play with it?

My life is a living meme … an oxymoron of what you think you have to do/ should do vs what really happens. I have no fucking clue what I want or need from anyone, if I’m honest.

Dating in today’s society is a bunch of bullshit. Nothing is genuine. Nothing is real. Everything is replaceable. I hate it. I loathe it. I don’t use apps. Tinder is bullshit and Bumble is just annoying and isn’t much better. Trying to meet someone in a bar leads to one thing only: Sex. Which, on some occasions, is fine.

Do I need a partner?

I’m not sure. The past 3 years would tell me that, no, I’m quite capable of being on my own. Do I WANT a partner? I wouldn’t mind it … but what will it take? It’s all too much for me. Too much iPhone and Bumble and social interactions and online vs offline … I feel old and tired and broken. I don’t trust and I don’t want to. It’s not worth the hurt, the heartache and the recovery. Better to stay single and “safe” than open up the delicate bits and have them shattered again.

Sarah is still living under my bed. I lay down on the ground every night and chat with her. Tell her about my day. Every morning she pokes her head out and we look at each other for a few moments. Late at night I catch her in the bathroom, sitting by the sink; I pee and she watches me warily till I go back to bed. I see her slow progression and it gives me hope that I can someday progress in this fucked up world of dating and interactions.

~ by drivingmsmiranda on May 5, 2017.