Just a big ol' fu#c%i@g jumble

Steve was after Miles and he was a skater. I bought him a white quicksilver hat for his birthday that he hated. We broke up after four weeks and I can’t remember how. John was an Active guy and that was pretty cool (at the time).He tried going too far one night and I pretended to fall asleep so I could avoid the whole situation; he stopped calling. I called him for three weeks straight saying I didn’t like him but I needed to know what he hadn’t liked about me. I never found out. Gavin ate a green, wet burrito at the Mexican restaurant I worked at. He was 34 while I was 18 and he took me back to his parent’s house, lit up a joint and laid on the couch. We did this for several weeks while he told me cute stories about his two kids that his ex-wife had custody of. When we made out I stared up at the ceiling trying not to cry; I never saw him again. Emad spoke Arabic, which turned me on. He was three years younger and worked by me at the mall. He wrote me love letters in Arabic and bought me a heart necklace. I never showed him to any of my friends or family because of his age (he was 16). We made out in my car in the parking lot on our lunch breaks at the mall. I stopped talking to him shortly after; I had no interest in a youngster. Tomar was from Israel and that turned me on. He bought me a bracelet and he had fluffy hair. He lived in an apartment with three other guys from Israel and they would walk around with their fluffy hair and tighty whities. I was in my own little world there, smoking cigarettes on the couch. He asked if I would marry him for 2,000 dollars so he could become a citizen, I laughed it off. We made out one night and it turned premature. I started avoiding his calls and he went back to Israel. Doug was short and stalky and my best friend’s boyfriend’s friend. I went to his dorm one night, the second night we ever hung out. I drove 45 minutes at 9 at night to go see him. I wore a backless shirt and a small white skirt—could have been mistaken for a hooker but I thought I looked cute. We made out in his big fluffy bed and after I never talked to him again. Sean was my long distance boyfriend from Louisiana. We stayed up late into the night typing rapidly and laughing out loud. We flew across the Country making several visits; walking in the snow, eating sushi, drinking bubble tea, being in love, falling asleep to Mae, and lying in bed all day. He cheated on me two days before a trip to see me, I told him not to come and he listened. We met up several months later and drove to Vegas. I couldn’t stand the sight of him. The turning point really struck me when we ate breakfast and he picked up little crumbs off the table with his finger and ate them; all I wanted to do was grab his face and slam it into the wall. We didn’t talk much after that except when he called to tell me he was getting married. I met Carlos on my voyage to Mexico and we lived in the same house with the same Mexican family; in a way it was incest. He snuck into my room one night while it was storming outside. We made out under the white sheets while my roommate was in the next bed over. The next morning at breakfast we couldn’t wipe the smirks off our faces. We both left Mexico and met in Vegas several weeks later and I couldn’t stand the sight of him. I hated him the whole time and we never talked again. Kyle had fluffy hair and skater style. I went to his house one night and watched a movie sitting between him and his mom on a loveseat couch and she baked us cookies. We hung out on and off while I tried avoiding the turning point because he was so feminine. The last time I saw him we made out and it was premature. I haven’t talked to him since. Matt I knew from H.S. and I liked him anytime I was buzzed. He was cute and friendly but when it boiled down to it I saw no drive, no stable future. We kissed once and I never talked to him again. Sam was a boyfriend I had who was always broke. I accepted that though, because we never went anywhere, which I loved. We stayed indoors, in bed and cuddled. The turning point slapped me when we went to Jack in the box and he asked me if I would buy him a 99-cent chicken sandwich because he couldn’t afford one of his own; I was immediately disgusted. Then a couple days later he had the worst breathe I had ever smelled and it never went away; the bad breath or the turning point; it was a deadly weapon. I met Mike at my very first job; he was older, cute and tall. He had a smile that could make you weak to your knees and a charm you couldn’t deny. He was older and I never told my friends when I would hang out with him, I was too ashamed. We went to the zoo together and I wore the same hooker outfit I had worn to see Doug. The backless shirt and mini skirt—I wore this to the San Diego Zoo, a place where people take their children. Not many things I am ashamed about in my past but this is definitely one of them. It ended and I can’t remember how. Paul was my best friend’s boyfriend’s band member and it was an 80’S band. I think that tells all. We made out against all my friends wishes, he donated white wedding to me and then stopped talking to me because he didn’t like my body. That one still hurts to swallow. Johnny got facials at the salon I worked at, he had a girlfriend and a baby and pressed me up into the dark corner and tried to kiss me. We hung out a couple of times but I couldn’t get past his chicken legs and ugly white shoes. I’ve avoided him ever since. Scott was Paul’s roommate all tatted up and I loved his style. I just liked making out in his comfy bed; I liked being in that bed. But he had a curled up lip and scummy teeth and his weight was on the verge. I met Zanders at Sammy’s and I left my number in the bill. He made reservations at the most expensive restaurant in town, asked me to pay half of the bill and then asked to see my boobs. I never talked to him after that and he would harass me with texts for the next several months. Finally, I picked up the phone and said you made reservations for the most expensive restaurant in town let me pay half and then wanted to see my boobs. I never heard from him again.

I have dated a guy from every branch of the military; I have dated several foreigners, skater, punks, and preppies. I have dated basketball players, football players, tennis players, soccer players, and volleyball players. I have dated tall, short, skinny, and plump. I have dated brown haired, blonde haired, black haired, red haired, shorthaired, fluffy haired, longhaired, and no haired. I have dated funny guys, serious guys, losers, and accomplishers. I have dated the rich and the poor, the smart and the stupid. I have dated guys with children, ex-wives and girlfriends. I have dated older men, younger men and men my age. I have done long distance and short distance. I have been really sad and really happy. I have been giddy and excited and scared and anxious. 80 percent of the guys I have kissed have been a one-time thing, unintentionally.

My first 2 boyfriend's ever.

Joe was my first boyfriend. He was a family friend and asked me to be his girlfriend in 7^th grade. During lunch we would stand in a circle with all of our friends and hold hands like we were waiting for red rover to be sent over. We spoke two words the whole entire lunch, we barely even glanced at each other; maybe a peripheral glance. But I had a boyfriend and he was cute and I was waiting for it to end. He broke up with me one day after lunch, the only two words we spoke that lunch and he used them to dump me. I wasn’t that crushed about it, but I did after that, make a serious effort to look sexy in my 7^th grade clothes; making him regret his decision while I pranced around in my blue and white striped overalls.

My next serious relationship was in 9^th grade with Sam. Sam wrote songs about me, made me pillows, and made me laugh. But the turning point came faster than expected after about 4 months. All his flaws became unveiled and I am going to spare these details for the sake of not being right out mean; I owe this much to my first ‘love’. It's really the first time the sickness had really plagued my mind. I had no idea I would be asking myself the same questions every relationship I ended up being in. Who was this guy that was my boyfriend? What was I doing here? How was I going to get out of this? After that it was down hill. I became this witch of a girlfriend. I was in denial so I stayed with him but put him through total hell. I would start fights about anything and pick on him when given the chance. I would make up stories to get him jealous and to see him cry. I mainly stayed with him because it was nice to have someone care so much about me; it was nice to be wanted.  Plus, I still wanted my songs and pillows and I still wanted to laugh damnit, I still wanted to laugh. Deep down there was no laughter; I knew it had to end. I don’t remember the details of when it finally came crashing down but it was a slow process, not cold turkey like some of the next ones would be. Throughout the next years in between all my failed relationships I would call or text Sam and give him the hope I might love him again. He would give me the attention I would need to get through the hard times and then I would forget all about him once again.

An Alien abduction (and not the good kind)

He asked for my number a few weeks after I told everyone in the office that I had a huge crush on him hoping it would get back to him and he would ask for my number. I liked that he had a bicked head and was an intelligent man. He was older and made good money and I thought it would be a nice change. We ate at In-In-Out which is the reason I wasn’t able to smell the pungent reek of body odor that was steaming off of him until we were side by side at the movie theatre. You have never really smelled true B.O. until you have gone on a date with this man. I realize that we are human beings and that at some point our armpits will create an unsatisfactory smell but this was like a demon was dead in his pit. I held my breath for 92 minutes and we headed out to his car. So we get into his truck in the parking lot and there are street lights all around, so the setting is dark with dim neon lights outside. I am describing the setting for you so that you will have a good understanding for what was about to happen next. We were just sitting in his truck talking when he went in for the kiss. I knew I couldn’t kiss a guy with these pits so I dug my head into the side of his neck; I guess that tickled. He started saying in a low, slow motion, winey kind of tone, “Nooooo, Kannnnnnddddiiii, stooooopppp ittttt” I started laughing which made him do it even more. I was also digging my face as far as possible into his neck so that it would plug my nose. He proceeded to moan and wine, “NOOOOO KANNNNDIIII, STOOOOOOPPPPP”. I lifted my head to look at him and the neon lights were reflecting off of his bicked head and there was a bright beam shooting into the sky. I couldn’t see his face; I was blinded by the beam. All I could see was a blurry white blob of a face and a shiny beam, and all I could hear were the continuous moans; at that point I knew I had been abducted.

I can’t remember how it ended as my memory may have been taken from me but I’m pretty sure ‘it was getting late and I had to be up early’. We never went out again because I couldn’t get past the fact that I would from that point on always picture him as an alien with really bad B.O.

Growing up

I didn’t have many boyfriends growing up. I mean I wasn’t one to go kiss behind the handball court. I had a mushroom cut and bottle cap glasses; I was pretty hideous to say the least. The only action I got was in third grade I saw Andrew’s ball sack when he fell down after getting slugged by a ball in dodge ball. I don’t know if I was waiting for the chance to spot them out every time he fell or if I just happened to glance at the perfect moment to see his balls go slapping to the rough top. My first crush was Patrick and he never liked me. I would do whatever he was doing at recess and pretend to enjoy it much more than he did; I wanted to be his perfect girl. I remember running around the soccer field following him like a little nat, pretending to be chasing the ball; hoping he would go falling to the floor like Andrew had. I couldn’t wait for him to sign my yearbook and after the year was over and I was sure no one else would see my book, I drew a heart around his picture, claiming him as mine. He never was mine and in the years to follow he would always have a piece of my heart, because he was so unattainable. Maybe it was you Patrick, who screwed me up.

My ex-boyfriend

 

Last night I broke up with my boyfriend. I told him we just weren’t compatible and that my schedule was so busy I felt like a bad girlfriend. I told him, "It's not you, it's me". He said he was confused and he thought everything was perfect. I didn’t have the heart to tell him he never really made me laugh and that the sight of him was so repulsive that at times I found that it was the hardest thing in the world just to be decent to him. I knew I couldn't go on feeling this way about him because I could feel myself being so childish and so rude and treating him like crap. It's weird walking away from something that I know could have been good and stable. But I am not stable; my mind is the most unstable thing I possess. My mind turns on me rapidly at any point and it holds no mercy. It makes itself up and it never turns back. I wanted to like him so bad. I wanted to love him and get married and finally be at peace. But I wouldn’t have been at peace, I would have been in agony; each day throwing chunks in the bathroom while he sleeps peacefully. What if I am never happy with anyone? What if I am destined to be alone forever because of my disease? No one will ever be perfect, when will I start to get over that?

I talked with Amira, my best friend today and she told me about a curse that runs deep in her father’s genes, his ancestors before him had it. They call it the “Qattani sickness” and it comes from the faraway lands of Jordan. The whole family can find a flaw in anyone. Her father says, “If someone has a flaw, I will find it”. She tells me I must be descended from her ancestors and that although it is a life altering sickness, one day I can be saved and will find love, just as her father did with her mother.

Now that I am once again single, I have decided I am going to try and stay single. Dating is so exhausting. I wish you could burn calories dating; I would be paper-thin. Plus, I am tired of trying to make it work, trying to find Mr. Perfect, tired of fake laughing, crying, being insecure, being worried, flirting, being happy, being sad, making plans, spending money, introducing Oscar, trying to be perfect, waiting for a text, prepping for my friends, worrying about everything that could go wrong, having everything go wrong, getting dumped, having to dump, looking pretty, playing it cool, being jealous, getting irritated, shaving my legs, getting excited, becoming hopeful, being unrealistic, facing reality, my number going up, losing interest and having everything fall apart; everything falls apart.

Roughly 3 years ago

I am in my late twenties. I’m lying, I am in my mid twenties but by the time I perfect this collection of stories of men, I will be in my late twenties….maybe even early thirties. It’s Monday and I am at my place of employment. I do not call it work or my job because there is none of that to be done. So I have decided to utilize my time and write about all my failed attempts to find love. There is a point in every relationship where someone in the relationship wakes up and realizes they no longer like the other person. I call this the turning point, when one minute I am madly in love and the next minute I hate the man’s guts; like I picture punching him. I am well aware that I may suffer from a psychological disease but of all the times I have talked about my desperate need to see a therapist I have yet to do so, just because the hourly rate is too high. So in this blog, although it may seem cruel and very shallow…I am going to relive the moments when I glanced over at a man I just made out with and feel complete and utter disgust by his presence. It’s amazing what our minds can do to us.

Chapter one. My Boyfriend.

I have a boyfriend right now. I am searching for ways to get rid of him. Everything about him was perfect on our first date; great job, great goals, tall, handsome, gentlemen, and same interests. Even after the first week I thought he was the man I was going to marry. I told everyone that he was my soul mate. I throw that word around like it’s a pair of jeans I am not ready to wash yet; still several more times to be worn. Then the turning point started to creep around the corner and it was the day he really started to like me. I start looking at him from a distance questioning if I'm even attracted. Who is this guy sitting in MY apartment, petting MY dog and sleeping in MY bed? Do I even know this stranger who isn’t even cute and who keeps trying to kiss me? I start to feel a curdling in my stomach and although I keep a fake smile I am about to throw up. We make out and I hold on to his back while I stare at the ceiling holding back my chunks. When it’s over I cling to the very opposite edge of the bed, he passes out next to me snoring loudly. Who is this guy whose tongue was just in my mouth, now so lazy he sleeps in a deep sleep next to me making noises while I am trying to sleep in my bed. I want him out I think to myself, I want him out.

Knowing my past, my history, my disease I try for the next few days to get over my thoughts. I try to make myself want him, make myself like him. I like him when I am lonely but the minute I am with him I want him gone. Maybe I was a praying mantis in my past life; it was my nickname in grade school, but only because I was tall and lanky. Nothing works but to avoid him at all costs and I will do this to prevent having to break up with him. I can’t confront people; it’s not in my genes. The only time I confront people is when I eventually blow up, like a ticking time bomb and then things fly out of my mouth that don’t even make sense; all my pent up thoughts, fears, and sicknesses. I have thought of writing him a letter, shooting him a text, doing nothing; just disappearing. None of it seems fair, but I can’t stare him in the eyes and say the thought of looking at you makes me want to vomit.

How did this turning point happen? My friends analyze me like I am a science project. Were you initially attracted to him? Yes. Did you initially like him? Yes. Did he start liking you too much? Yes. Now you think he is butt ugly and disgusting? Yes and Yes. They look at me in pity, yet they know deep down they suffer from it too…just not merely as bad as I do. I am convinced that all women deep down suffer from wanting a) jerk and b) what you can’t have. I on the other hand got the disease tenfold and I will never be happy. I will marry a guy who treats me like crap but it’s better than being grossed out at the turning point.

This isn’t the first occurrence. I have had the turning point throughout my whole dating life. I realize that disliking someone while dating is normal; this is supposed to happen until you do find “the one”. But I find myself analyzing why I reach the turning point so abruptly and why the turning point really happens when the guy starts to really like me. Why have all the guys that were the ‘loves of my life’ been the ones who completely hurt me and treated me badly? Why do I get so physically grossed out by someone when they become emotionally attached to me? And finally, what’s wrong with me?

 My boss once told me I am very shallow. I told him I didn’t want to date a guy because he was 5’2’; borderline midget and I can’t date anyone shorter than me. My boss looked me straight in the eyes and said, “You are very shallow”. Maybe I am shallow, but it doesn’t make sense…because I really don't think that I am a shallow person.  But  I am over critical; the way they chew, their clothes, their teeth, their hair, their breathe, their car, their money, their laugh, their humor, if they take a water from my fridge without asking, if they mess up my sheets, if they don’t like my dog, if they don’t like my friends, if my friends don’t like them, if everyone thinks their hot, their job, their future, how many kids they want,  their nose hair, their back hair, if they snore, their body proportion, their cleanliness, their shoes, their hobbies, their lips, their nose, their eyes, the sleep that is in their eyes, their fingernails, their toenails, their body odor, if they put the seat back down,…you see what I mean. It’s every little detail. But when I find him, when I really love him, I love all his flaws. I have loved all these flaws in a guy before but I think only because I could never fully have him.

I have stopped dating a guy because his torso was too long and his legs too short.

I have stopped dating a guy because he was balding and would always wear a hat and I wanted to rip the hat off and scream, “Face it” but then again, I didn’t want to face it. I have stopped dating a guy because he would yell in a high pitch voice, “Holla”. I have stopped dating a guy because his breath was bad and he was always broke. I have stopped dating a guy because I pictured him pooping on the toilet and it was a hideous sight. I have stopped dating a guy because his hands looked like Shrek’s.  I have stopped dating a guy because he had a creaky back. I have stopped dating a guy because he kissed like a cold fish. The list could go on and on and on....but I think you get the point.