Hi. My name is Josie. And I am a douchebag addict.
I have teetered on the edge of serial single and serial dating for years now. Thus, my blog. However, this year both sides of the fence have culminated into a gigantic, festering vat of emotionally draining energy.
I mean, things were to a point were Kaz and SlinkyChic insisted I audition for VH1’s Tough Love, a reality TV dating boot camp. Look, Slink even started filling out my application:
Q: Why do your friends think you are single?
“I would say you are single because, well, you have not yet found THE ONE, but THE ONE has not yet found you either. The potential future Mr. Josie has to GET YOU, and let you BE YOU. You are Little*, but not LITTLE in your attitude. I would say that you have a certain type and when your friends show you a potential MAN, you may not consider him upon the first review after the 2 seconds you have reviewed him from head to toe….plus usually when we go out it is late at night and usually quite dark and libations may be involved.”
And then she also added this in her email:
“I think your criteria may be very selective and narrow, meaning that you HAVE to have a man that falls w/n a list of your requirements if he EVEN gets as far as to talk to you…
Oh, and they LINGER….. they have to be long gone before you can move on!!! You have hanger-oners… that are always there or come back. I have trouble typing on this little laptop, maybe we need to have a conversation all of us and make a conclusion as a group. We need to make this GOOD.”
Slink’s email was touching enough to make my eyes water and brutal enough to make my eyes water.
I am particular. Not particular like, “narrow, meaning a man must fall within a list of requirements,” but particular like a hot-house orchid; I have certain conditions I want THE ONE, as Slink put it, to meet.
These “hanger-oners” at one point did meet my “conditions,” but over time, fell out of favor for one reason or another – and stayed around. And, yes, some fell into the category of major douchebag – and stayed around.
I didn’t care. I didn’t care these “hanger-oners” weren’t THE ONE, they were someone to go to dinner with, on a long-weekend with – let’s be honest, I wasn’t in love with any of them. Hell, there were a few I didn’t even really like, never mind love. This leads me back to the culmination of a festering vat of emotionally draining energy… there were a few I did deeply care for (i.e., Ian) — and one I was insanely in love with (i.e., the secret crush). But, the deep feelings were never returned.
Ian didn’t want to get married again, or live together, or spend lots of exorbitant time together, but he didn’t want to break up either. I thought I would be okay with his terms, I even called him, “Mr. Right Now” to his face. I guess, deep down, I thought he would eventually change his mind. Ah! Wait! I know what you are thinking! Let me add, Ian would also say things to make me believe his mind was changing. After a long weekend in Boston, I finally realized he never meant anything he said in terms of change – and was harshly reminded, leopards don’t change their spots.
The secret crush I have been referring to in my junior-high-school manor since the creation of my blog, is no longer secret. I think. I think he knows about the depth of my feelings, but with men, ladies you know, they mostly lack the ability to connect the dots – no matter how many academic degrees. But, at this point, does it really matter if he knows? It’s been a cat and mouse game of flirtation, however, he decided to stick with his current situation. I am heart broken, and worse, I feel stupid. He made himself clear – even if he did dabble with the idea of me – and he did dabble – you do not not bring up your current situation for this long without dabbling! Plus, he talked a big game. He dangled the proverbial carrot of many super fantastic, incredible projects/jobs/etc. on a stick in front of me, yet, meant none of them. I don’t know which is worse – being the girl not chosen or realizing the guy of my dreams could actually fall into the category with all the rest — douchebag.
Thus, I put myself into douchebag rehab. (I must say, Kaz and Slink are extremely proud). No more accepting phone calls, emails or text messages. I have deleted all the “hanger-oners” out of my phone, email address book and social networks.
I have emptied and cleaned my festering vat – with bleach.
* * *
*VH1 Tough Love, Season 2 casting was closed when I went to submit my application.
*”Little” is a nickname.