i don’t know what to write anymore. i feel like i come to the blog with all sorts of emotions and things running through my head, but i never write a post, because they all sound so complaining and sad and bitter and angsty and lost and depressed. i guess there was a day when i used to just write all of that here, for y’all to see. and i don’t know why i’m not doing that anymore. i don’t have a job, i don’t have a book deal, i don’t have anything that’s any different by NOT writing it down, you know?
but sometimes, occasionally, when i read those old posts where i’m all torn up about an ex-boyfriend or just horribly gripped in the maelstrom of mental illness, i just wince at how out there i am. i wonder what people thought of me then, or what they think of me now, reading that stuff.
i just know i’m stuck. i’m stuck in a holding pattern, and one that’s not good. someone asked me the other day about how many people i’ve dated, and i was honest about what i was telling him, but i didn’t come right out and say, “i think i’ve had one date in like seven years.” there’s this part in our mainstage show at second city (long story short) where one of the characters in a sketch is a loser and alone at a singles mixer and ends up doing something creepy and the other guy yells, “you freak!” that’s kind of how i feel. i feel stuck between knowing how much i enjoy being affectionate with people — let’s just say it — how much i enjoy sex and all the things that come before, during and after. but, i’m stuck in this celibacy that won’t quit. so you’d think i was clueless or frigid the way i just lose myself for years.
when i really think about it or say it out loud, the fact that i haven’t been in a relationship for most of a decade is pretty appalling. i don’t know if it’s because i really should actually try and get a girlfriend and try and suss all that side out, or if i’m so terrified that i will inevitably fall back into old patterns of addiction as goes relationships/people, that i just stay away.
i’m NOT good at moderation. I’m just not good at it. the same person that asked me about how many people i had dated/slept with, etc., asked me about how many times i’d “had love.” and i wasn’t sure what he meant by that. made love? been IN love? and he explained … no, just had love. dating, kissing, holding hands. he made that sound so innocent. so easy. like you could just hang out with someone and kiss them and hold their hand and it could be love, but not have to equal being IN love with someone. he said it with the air of someone who can look an alcoholic in the face and tell them they can just drink wine with dinner. i couldn’t comprehend what he was saying.
it’s that kind of stuff that makes me leery of getting back into something. pain. i have a low tolerance for it these days … well, kind of. there’s the other sort of comfortable pain i obviously groove on … pining for lost loves and people who i stand no chance of ever being with. people who aren’t good for me and aren’t really compatible with me and who can often be selfish and self-involved. yet, that part of my brain that knows that ache seems to draw it closer and closer rather than deal with the sharp pain of a potential love denied/rejected.
again. what kind of blog post is this? i haven’t a clue. i’m going to try and write more, though, so you’ll probably end up with more bullshit/drivel. sorry. this is all i have right now. you’ll have to deal.