I Put The "I" In Awkward, And That's Not Even Necessary...
That's how extra awkward I really and truly am.
I have issues. Deep-seated, horrible issues. They really are a problem. Not in general, just in the deep black hole of fuckery I call dating.
You might think that because I’m pretty, I don’t have those problems. You couldn’t be more wrong.
I don’t open my mouth and say the things that pretty girls say. I don’t act like pretty girls act. I’m not the woman everyone expects me to be, and I am 100% ok with that.
It seems I’m the only one that is, though.
“You’re the greatest waste of potential I have ever seen”.
I will never forget those words. And, it’s true. I am. I was handed talent, and I squandered it. I was given a pretty face, and I wear a Bitchface instead. I know that if I just went with the flow, if I just let some things go, if I just stopped making such a scene about everything, about every single fucking thing.
I’m sorry. I’m not sorry.
I have given up on happily ever after. There is not one for women like me. We make waves. We start shit. We just don’t understand how to sit down and shut up.
Thank God. Thank Baby Jesus himself.
I would rather spend every moment of my life alone than be a woman that just says “ok, babe, whatever you say”, because I just threw up a little bit typing that. I can’t make myself do all of that tongue biting, pearl-clutching, hand wringing, get along that it takes to be a woman involved these days. With the age of internet dating, it appears the options are many, but the connections are few.
I wish sometimes, like today, I had known what my life would be today. I would have been a better woman to my first husband. I would have made better decisions in matters of love and finances. I would have been a better version of myself.
I won’t allow that regret to force my hand in the choices I make today, though. I won’t settle, thinking that this is all that I deserve because I wasn’t a good wife when it counted. I won’t let the mistakes I made with one love make me accept bullshit as an excuse for it today.
You should see me stumbling through a conversation now, though. It is the most awkward, ridiculous, inane idiocy you have ever seen. I suck at small talk, I generally dislike people as a whole, and I attract Fuckboys like I’m an open flame in the July heat in Florida calling bugs. It’s such a disgusting combination, and it’s a trainwreck, every time.
If you’ve listened to BMan and I, you know I don’t lack for words ever. Not at any time, never, not ever. It’s more a “why am I wasting my letters on this”, worried about the longevity of my keyboard versus what some random asshole thinks about me personally. I have that much faith in this new school era of dating. I have that much hope in me being the victim of a coupling. I have a solo mindset, and a solo thought process because, much like well-crafted stiletto heels, solo looks fantastic on me.
I’m thinking of introducing some of the most awkward statements in a column, just so we can all have a good titter at the dumb shit that falls out of my mouth. Trust me, there’s no shortage, it could be a series. I wasn’t given any talent when it comes to interactions with romantic intent. I don’t have a fucking romantic bone in my body.
What I do have, though, is the self-respect I fought hard to develop, despite the many Fuckboys that have tried to kick a dent in it. I have enough love for myself to understand that all alone is better than unhappily together, and that most of these dudes don’t have my best interest at heart.
I do know that it might be easier if I could learn the right things to say. It wouldn’t be nearly as awkwardly hilarious, though, and when I can blush at my own stumbling through conversations…well, at least it’s good for a laugh. So, if we’re keeping track, this is reason 5,343 that I’m still out here, Queen of the Fuckboys, and still rocking the tiara and sash.
I’m so stupid bad awkward it’s almost comical, self-aware, and still doing it.
I really put the “I” in awkward, y’all.