This Has Nothing to do with Alcohol

Um, yeah... so... this post has nothing to do with alcohol. At all. I apologize in advance, but I still think I might have something worthwhile to say.

I'm sitting here packing for my weekend trip to the Hamptons with a still as yet unspecified number of my friends, and I just got to thinking...

(Well, I didn't just get to thinking. I was actually talking about relationships with the woman who has a nonprofit across the street from me, and thinking about the words my grandmother said to me from beyond. [Yes, the deceased do speak, if you're willing to listen.]).

Man, I've learned a lot of good lessons from all the relationship drama I've been through. And man, I don't know how I want to handle them going forward... 'cause man... man... my world-view has been tainted and I don't know what's right or wrong anymore.

I'm too nice to be a proper heartbreaker (I'm more aloof and oblivious than cold and cruel) and too self-absorbed to be a proper sweetheart. I used to be a real sweetie, though. I was THE Ride-or-Die Chick. THE Make-Dinner-for-You-on-a-Whim Chick. The Kiss-You-Anyway-When-You're-Sick-'Cause-I-Even-Love-Your-Germs Chick. When my boyfriend (at the time) and I offended our friends by arriving late to a get-together after we said we'd be an hour (hey... some things take longer than an hour if you're doin it right), after he tried to greet his best friend, his friend said, "Nah, sahn. I don't fucks with you!" My immediate reply was, "that's okay, 'cause I do!" That's the kind of girl I was.

It wasn't having my heart broken by the stereotypical "Bad Guy" that changed me though. I mean, I did have my heart broken, but he wasn't a bad guy... he was a scared, confused guy. It wasn't even a brief encounter with a violent, possessive guy. The straw that broke the camel's back (besides age) was a nice guy. That's right. The "Nice Guy" was the one who made me say "to hell with it."

And thus began my string of flings (which I'm winding down from. It's boring and I either want something REAL good, something REAL fun, or nothing at all).

How did this happen? He was too nice. He was too cautious. He was... rather condescending, actually. He pushed me away right when things started taking off only to later explain that he was trying to figure out who was real and who wasn't... and then came back. (They ALWAYS come back.). Too late, not interested... at all. The worst thing you can do to me is doubt my realness.

I feel like I'm at another turning point in how I view men and relationships. I know what I ultimately want in that regard: a husband I don't secretly/not-so-secretly hate and three adorable kids, but not anytime soon. There are a lot of changes I need to go through and experiences I need to have before I'm ready to seriously think about any of that.

I've done the steady girlfriend thing. I've done the "I'm going to focus on me" thing. I've done the "let's just play it by ear" thing. I've done the "we're just friends, but we go out on dates" thing. I've done the chick-on-the-side thing (don't judge me). I've done the playette thing. I've done the "it's 3 am, where you at?" thing. (Sounds like I've done a lot of things. Pause.).

I guess what I'm ready for now is the next thing. And I know what I want that next thing to be, but I have the feeling that what I'm going to get is going to surprise me. It always does.

BONUS! QUOTES from MY MOMMY:

After my first breakup:

"Niggas come and go, but mama will always love you."

"If I see him on the street, I'm going to push him into oncoming traffic. Just kidding!"

After my encounter with scary, violent, crazy man:

Mom: "He had a little dick, didn't he?"

Me: "Mom! ...Yes."

Mom: *Cackles* "See? Mama always knows! Five-minute, squiggly dick."

...My mother is a dentist with an expansive vocabulary and normally speaks with impeccable grammar (though she does have a potty mouth in private). Even after 22 years of her being my mother, I'm still shocked when she says such things.