Regurgitated emotions

I'm taking the easy way out again. Sort of. I'm not quite tired enough to go to sleep. Rather than toss and turn or watch Food Network which will ignite my hunger pangs, I read some older posts. There were a couple that I'm ashamed to have written and posted. I've yet to find my stride or niche in the blogosphere. Maybe that is my avenue: Randomosity.

I clicked and read. I rolled my eyes often. Savannah Blue Eyes took up way too much space. For a guy who dumped me for an ex-stripper (and a string of other skanks followed) he didn't deserve so much thought. But alas, it is what it was. For the record, I've not heard from him in months. I pray I don't either. I realize in writing that that I'm tempting fate. It seems he hears the proclamation in the cosmos and feels the need to call me or email me with news of his horniness. He'll use the lame excuse of needing advice about raising daughters or eyeglasses. Yeah, that's f'ing romantic. Ass. I digress.

I'm going to bestow a not so oldy on ya. I hope you don't mind. I was rather fond of this post because it's an emotional guide post. It might be a bit too revealing, but it's honest.

Here it is:

Infatuation Junky?


"The essence of love begins when infatuation ends." ~ Unknown

As elementary school children, we develop likes for boys or girls. When it's unrequited these likes are referred to as crushes. Or, when the other person is unaware of your affections it's a crush or secret crush. Unfortunately, as we age, the premise doesn't change. Oh, we might have more courage in expressing ourselves, but the bottom line it's downright frightening to embark upon the unknown and risk having your heart torn to shreds.

"The love that lasts longest is the love that is never returned." ~Somerset Maugham

When I was married, I'd get crushes on his friends, male acquaintances, or co-workers. The expectation was that the lines of decency would never be crossed. After all, what might the point be? I surmise that their flirtation and attention filled a void. Had I accepted or invited their advances, it would create a seriously disturbing situation. I admit that in the back of my mind I felt my (ex) husband would resent me for fouling up his friendship more than it would concern him that our marital vows had been mutilated.

It's nearing the end of 2008 and I'm single. Still. The document of divorce was stamped in December '99. Is something amiss? There's no doubt that I am free to pursue whomever might strike my fancy. Sure, there are limits. Married men and men who are otherwise engaged are respectfully out of my grasp. Should I develop a crush on such a man, I consider them harmless and they are painlessly unrequited. I can easily deal with that.

"Flirting is the gentle art of making a man feel pleased with himself." ~ Helen Rowland

Currently, I do not have any serious infatuations. Oh sure, I participate in the sportive suggestion that Gerard Butler or John Cusack is my boyfriend. That's not the sort of fondness with which I concern myself.

The Internet provides us the ability make introductions with someone on the other side of the globe. For whatever reason, I manage to find those guys. The unattainable. It's highly unlikely that anything will mature out of that exchange. Right? The interim of flirting and friendship satiates my ego. Is that so bad?

"Computer dating is fine, if you're a computer."~Rita Mae Brown

In the past several years, I've had countless long distance crushes. Obtaining a relationship status, for the most part, was merely discussed, but left to flounder and eventually fade. By the same turn, many have evolved into friendships because the object of my affection found a woman nearby who aptly suited his needs. The emails and/or phone calls would subside and we'd ease into acquainted pen-pals. The sexual undertones of the correspondence and conversation would be replaced with tales of children, pets, jobs and mortgages.

Here's the crux of such an entanglement. My penchant for long distant infatuations: Does it really say more about me than mere whimsy. I've often questioned my ability to commit. I'm not saying that I don't put my all into a relationship. I do. When I'm in it, I sincerely and wholeheartedly give myself to him/us/it. Yet, I've never had one remarkable, long-term relationship other than my marriage. I am a serial dater/serial crusher. I think it says a lot less about them (the men). It's about me. This begs the question: Am I sporting a serious emotional defect? It seems that I'm drawn to impossible relationships like a moth to the flame. And you know what happens when a nocturnal lepidopteran insect flys into the fire? Sizzle. Unlike the scorched moth, I blister a little, heal and get back in the game.

"No matter how lovesick a woman is, she shouldn't take the first pill that comes along." ~ Dr. Joyce Brothers

Yes, yes. I know. Love will come to me when the stars are in alignment and all that jazz. I ought not think about it so much and love will find me. I'm not inclined to continuously lower the bar. Playing limbo was indeed tempting back when I had greater flexibility. And hoo-boy! Let me tell you, that bar often dropped mighty low; yet, I foolishly stayed in the game.

Here's the bottom line: With each attempt and failure, I haven't been deterred from being hopeful. I have momentary declarations where I start singing a la Dionne Warwick. Discouraged? Sure. Human girl here. Even if I am one with the emotional defect, I figure there's someone out there who'll match me.

"The best thing you can do is find a person who loves you for what you are. Good mood, bad mood, ugly, pretty, handsome, what have you. The right person's still going to think the sun shines out of your ass. That's the kind of person worth staying with."~J.K. Simmons