Elle-oh. I mean Elle, oh?
Elle asked me out. In a way, she asked me out.This blog lacks any of the flowery stuff of the other crap in here, but I make up for it in raw drunk emotion.
Elle and I had been seeing each other for a while. Elle, isn't named elle. I picked the name, because she writes a blog. it's titled 'shedatesboys'. In her blog, she writes about her relationships, so I picked elle for her pseudonym. For the culmination of a several year long project, where elle dated boys and blogged about it, she and I ended up dating. I'm her last blog, and she might be one of my first. Like all virgins, I feel awkward.
I told elle the truth, that I truly adore her, which I really do, she embodies everything that I want in a woman. She's smart. She's well spoken. She reads. She tolerates how incredibly nerdy I am, but she's normal enough that I can talk to her about anything. All of my gf's in my past have been crazy. Elle is no exception, but she's not crazy-crazy, perhaps volatile is more appropriate word.
Here is the story of our genesis. Elle asked me about us, where did we stand? We didn't do this in person, we did it over the internet. Our faces reflected the pale white of our screens as we talked. I told her the truth. I don't do well with poly-amory. I was nervous as I typed, because I hated sharing emotions/feelings. The make me feel vulnerable. However, back to poly-amory. I mean, I'm fine with it, but I'll treat it like friends with benefits. I can't be close to someone that's sleeping with someone else. In fact, I can't really be close to a person. This whole friends with benefits thing that I had with Elle, was the first of it's kind for me. I looked at it as a maintenance thing.
But, it's not just polyamory, most of my girlfriends have complained about me being not there, or that I didn't love them as much as they loved me. They were all right. Most of them, I couldn't understand why they were so attached to me. Ironically, I built a gulf between myself and these women, but I needed them. I needed them to feel whole. I can't stand to be alone, but I'm not sure that I want anyone around. I feel like a two sides of the same magnet that attracts and repels people at the same time. Please feel free to analyze me with any folk psychological theories that you could offer. My loveline infused youth, forces me to conclude that I have some sort of personality flaw where I can't be alone, but I hate being with anyone else. It probably stems from some sort of child hood bullying or that abandonment disorder related to my dad. On a side note, I'm hoping it has something to do with my puppy not liking me enough, I think that would be the perfect problem, because it sounds easy enough to get through.
Back to Elle, Elle didn't seem too comfortable with my answer. she wasn't ready for monogamy. I'm not sure if I was either, but I can't lie. I hate dating. I hate it so much. I hate meeting new women, trying to impress them, attempting to care bout their interests, then at the end of the night, the coup de grat, I get stuck with the bill. As a gentleman, I've never complained, but I've often wished that there was some sort of rejection process that was involved that forced the women to be interesting. It works for roller coaster rides. Why not for dates? You must be this interesting, for me to pay for the bill. C'mon, at least be fun to talk to, that' can't be too much to ask.
Elle became silent, and she avoided me for a couple days. In that time, I went out with some other people. Strangely, I convinced them to come back to my place. We never had sex, but i thought they were okay looking. Is that justification? I could have slept with them, but I didn't? It doesn't sound like one, but I think that my drunk conscience/consciousness thought it was. Elle stormed in on my date. For some reason the police were involved, remember when I suggested elle was volatile, well, she is. Strangely, I don't think the date was affected much by elle's intrusion, but I lied to elle, I wanted her to feel bad for what she did. I told her she ruined it. I'm not sure if she saw this is a fault or a victory.
A while later, I got a message from elle asking me what went wrong. We talked. Then she asked me out. She missed me. I missed her too, I missed her presence in my life. I needed her. She was the only person that I've slept with that I've connected to on an intellectual level. i didn't want to loose that. It took me 28 years to find someone like her.
No she's not perfect,but is anyone? We aren't each other's types sometimes. Elle is at least an in and a half taller than me. She's not fat, but she's not skinny. Strangely, most of my gf's ARE taller than me. Not much taller, but a little. I'm not super short. I'm 5.799999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999" tall. I weigh near 187 lbs. my hair is stupid, and getting stupider. My I have a tiny gut, but it's mostly muscle,and I don't know what to do about that. My shoulders are broad,and they meet my waist at just the right angle to make it look like my torso is an inverted arrow head, or a triangle resting upon a square. I'm indian, but no one knows what race I am. I'm light enough to be greek, but dark enough to be thought of as mexican or arab. elle is probably 5'10. She's black. She weighs a little more than me, and when she dresses up, she's prettty. To put into context my type, I'm not sure why, but taller women like me. I suppose that I'm loquacious, goofy, and nice enough to come home to. Most of the girls I date are punk rock/goth/alternative skinny, and probably some variant of pasty white.
With that said, dating, I'm not sure how I feel about it. Part of me likes it, but I can feel myself doing what I do. Doubts spring into place likes fortification around my consciousness, barriers spring up, my heart is impenetrable. I was once told that I go out of my way to do nice things for other people, and refuse to let them do anything from me. I never appreciated the truly meaning of this inditement until recently. I refuse to let anyone get close to me, it's what that really means.
I caught myself today, I was wondering what my parents would think of her. Then i moved on, what will her parents think. This isn't going to work. No way josie. It was more than just that, I started picking her apart, then I started picking myself apart. In the end, my mind was filled with scattered pieces that I lost the instructions to.
I suppose that I'm my own boogey man. In truth, I'm scared of what I'm doing, and I can see it happen, it's like watching a horror movie. You know the virgin lives, but everyone else dies in the end.
http://shedatesboys.tumblr.com/
who knows, if you look deep enough on it, you'll find pics of me.
Elle asked me out. In a way, she asked me out.This blog lacks any of the flowery stuff of the other crap in here, but I make up for it in raw drunk emotion.
Elle and I had been seeing each other for a while. Elle, isn't named elle. I picked the name, because she writes a blog. it's titled 'shedatesboys'. In her blog, she writes about her relationships, so I picked elle for her pseudonym. For the culmination of a several year long project, where elle dated boys and blogged about it, she and I ended up dating. I'm her last blog, and she might be one of my first. Like all virgins, I feel awkward.
I told elle the truth, that I truly adore her, which I really do, she embodies everything that I want in a woman. She's smart. She's well spoken. She reads. She tolerates how incredibly nerdy I am, but she's normal enough that I can talk to her about anything. All of my gf's in my past have been crazy. Elle is no exception, but she's not crazy-crazy, perhaps volatile is more appropriate word.
Here is the story of our genesis. Elle asked me about us, where did we stand? We didn't do this in person, we did it over the internet. Our faces reflected the pale white of our screens as we talked. I told her the truth. I don't do well with poly-amory. I was nervous as I typed, because I hated sharing emotions/feelings. The make me feel vulnerable. However, back to poly-amory. I mean, I'm fine with it, but I'll treat it like friends with benefits. I can't be close to someone that's sleeping with someone else. In fact, I can't really be close to a person. This whole friends with benefits thing that I had with Elle, was the first of it's kind for me. I looked at it as a maintenance thing.
But, it's not just polyamory, most of my girlfriends have complained about me being not there, or that I didn't love them as much as they loved me. They were all right. Most of them, I couldn't understand why they were so attached to me. Ironically, I built a gulf between myself and these women, but I needed them. I needed them to feel whole. I can't stand to be alone, but I'm not sure that I want anyone around. I feel like a two sides of the same magnet that attracts and repels people at the same time. Please feel free to analyze me with any folk psychological theories that you could offer. My loveline infused youth, forces me to conclude that I have some sort of personality flaw where I can't be alone, but I hate being with anyone else. It probably stems from some sort of child hood bullying or that abandonment disorder related to my dad. On a side note, I'm hoping it has something to do with my puppy not liking me enough, I think that would be the perfect problem, because it sounds easy enough to get through.
Back to Elle, Elle didn't seem too comfortable with my answer. she wasn't ready for monogamy. I'm not sure if I was either, but I can't lie. I hate dating. I hate it so much. I hate meeting new women, trying to impress them, attempting to care bout their interests, then at the end of the night, the coup de grat, I get stuck with the bill. As a gentleman, I've never complained, but I've often wished that there was some sort of rejection process that was involved that forced the women to be interesting. It works for roller coaster rides. Why not for dates? You must be this interesting, for me to pay for the bill. C'mon, at least be fun to talk to, that' can't be too much to ask.
Elle became silent, and she avoided me for a couple days. In that time, I went out with some other people. Strangely, I convinced them to come back to my place. We never had sex, but i thought they were okay looking. Is that justification? I could have slept with them, but I didn't? It doesn't sound like one, but I think that my drunk conscience/consciousness thought it was. Elle stormed in on my date. For some reason the police were involved, remember when I suggested elle was volatile, well, she is. Strangely, I don't think the date was affected much by elle's intrusion, but I lied to elle, I wanted her to feel bad for what she did. I told her she ruined it. I'm not sure if she saw this is a fault or a victory.
A while later, I got a message from elle asking me what went wrong. We talked. Then she asked me out. She missed me. I missed her too, I missed her presence in my life. I needed her. She was the only person that I've slept with that I've connected to on an intellectual level. i didn't want to loose that. It took me 28 years to find someone like her.
No she's not perfect,but is anyone? We aren't each other's types sometimes. Elle is at least an in and a half taller than me. She's not fat, but she's not skinny. Strangely, most of my gf's ARE taller than me. Not much taller, but a little. I'm not super short. I'm 5.799999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999" tall. I weigh near 187 lbs. my hair is stupid, and getting stupider. My I have a tiny gut, but it's mostly muscle,and I don't know what to do about that. My shoulders are broad,and they meet my waist at just the right angle to make it look like my torso is an inverted arrow head, or a triangle resting upon a square. I'm indian, but no one knows what race I am. I'm light enough to be greek, but dark enough to be thought of as mexican or arab. elle is probably 5'10. She's black. She weighs a little more than me, and when she dresses up, she's prettty. To put into context my type, I'm not sure why, but taller women like me. I suppose that I'm loquacious, goofy, and nice enough to come home to. Most of the girls I date are punk rock/goth/alternative skinny, and probably some variant of pasty white.
With that said, dating, I'm not sure how I feel about it. Part of me likes it, but I can feel myself doing what I do. Doubts spring into place likes fortification around my consciousness, barriers spring up, my heart is impenetrable. I was once told that I go out of my way to do nice things for other people, and refuse to let them do anything from me. I never appreciated the truly meaning of this inditement until recently. I refuse to let anyone get close to me, it's what that really means.
I caught myself today, I was wondering what my parents would think of her. Then i moved on, what will her parents think. This isn't going to work. No way josie. It was more than just that, I started picking her apart, then I started picking myself apart. In the end, my mind was filled with scattered pieces that I lost the instructions to.
I suppose that I'm my own boogey man. In truth, I'm scared of what I'm doing, and I can see it happen, it's like watching a horror movie. You know the virgin lives, but everyone else dies in the end.
http://shedatesboys.tumblr.com/
who knows, if you look deep enough on it, you'll find pics of me.
shufflewell:
Nice to read a blog like this - makes a change from the usual diary-esque blogs. 