love the wang

i hate the feeling of falling in love. the way everything falls out of perspective.

Oh yes ladies & gents. Je n’aime pas l’amour. It’s true i’m a romantic at heart about a lot of things: life, food, art. And yes, I love the look of whispering sunlight streaming through unmanicured foliage onto a whispy brunette evoking romanticism, BUT the actually ACT of falling love? not so much.

Make way, cynical woman coming through.

Love makes feelings SO exaggerated. Pain feels 10x more painful, joy feels like confined sunshine. My girlfriends will tell you that that’s what makes LOVE so WONDERFUL, but than again, they were always fairly sensible in their selection of men. I, on the other hand, am a seasoned asshole magnet. Ladies, if my mom weren’t reading this, I’d give you stories that would make Carrie Bradshaw’s man troubles look like 4th grade recess.

It’s actually progressed to the point where I literally judge my own attraction when I find a person that peaks my interest. it goes something like this in my head: Wow, he’s cute and really nice. Gosh, he’s super personable too. Dude, I think he likes me *giggle-giggle*. OK, but seriously jenny, if YOU’RE attracted to him, he’s probably an asshole. Really? but he seems so nice! You’re drunk on Sprite, let’s go home. ABORT MISSION.

Oh yeah, I pull the rip-cord before I even jump OUT of the plane.

We can make all sorts of judgements at this point about my troubled attitude on love. my love-drunk girlfriends will say “you’re so hardened by your previous experiences that you don’t give people a chance.” Okay, that might be true, but it’s honesty hard for me to swallow that psycho-analysis because we each have different experiences in love and it would be a one-upping contest on who dated the bigger asshole.

Here, a anecdote: My girlfriend Desiree is the most determined person i know in every aspect of life. In school, she got awesome grades. Out of school, she committed to a graduate degree, a great job, her faith and her family. OH, and LOVE. Desiree loves love. She dated, and dated, and dated, and dated, and dated. I would see her once a month for a birthday or dinner or get together, and I would be meeting her new “i think this is the one.” At one particular dinner, I think I forgot her “this is the one”s name and almost called him by last months “the is the one”s name. I finally (jokingly) told her, not to tell me her date’s name until she was walking down the aisle. Well, she ended up finding a great one. She loves him, we love him and he doesn’t mind when she eats half the entree off his plate (he actually looks her quite lovingly, which is disgustingly adorable.)

The moral of that story was that she committed herself to FINDING love and finding a mate. I can’t even commit myself to stop eating fruit roll-ups. Plus, I got tired just telling her story, much less live it. I told a friend in recent conversation that I never saw myself married, even though I can see myself maybe being a mother. i’m not sure what kind of fucked up psyche that is except to say i really enjoy my bachelorettehood (why doesn’t that sound as cool as “bachelorhood” ?)

From the outside, y’all can judge and say it’s sad I spend saturday nights on the couch with the dogs. On the inside though? It’s FUN. I have really cute dogs, watch a lot of amazing indie films and have learned to bake every sugary confection known to mankind. AND I only dress to impress other women (okay, and gays because i really want a gay boyfriend, but that’s another post.) which means I actually get to wear CLOTHES. (100% spandex tub tops are not Clothes, neither are booty-shorts.)

So yes, you heard it hear first, I don’t like falling in love. On the bright side, stick with this blog a couple more years and it’ll probably about my experiences as a cougar. Things could get really interesting then.