Dating Life… the Sequel

downloadApparently my dating limit is three months. It takes me three long months to realize I made a truly bad decision about who I want to share my time with. You’d think I’d be able to figure this shit out in about twenty minutes. When I meet someone for the first time, I can usually tell if I’m going to have anything in common with them. Why then, do I go pick out the desperate and broken? Seriously? Criminal drug addict… check. Disabled alcoholic…. check. Ignorant asshat… check. That’s not even including the married man that snuck in there for a brief moment. In other news, this blog wants me to change snuck to sneaked, and for the life of me, I can’t make sneaked sound right, so snuck is staying. I don’t care if its right or wrong.

Moving on, because I did actually have a point to this blog, that didn’t just question my sanity or judgment. I’ve still kept my Plenty of Fish account open, even though I still get random posts about my breasts by way of greeting, because I want to keep my options open. Sure, I have met every illiterate “single” male from here to Raleigh that finds it acceptable to make demands upon meeting me, but I’m sure there is a diamond in the rough somewhere.

Please God, let there be a diamond in the rough somewhere.

It’s not like my standards are too high… seriously, I could use better standards. I go through days where I convince myself of reasons why I’m perpetually single. The easy… I’m overweight. Not just by a little. This is my go to excuse as to why I’m always going to be alone, and never have that damn white picket fence. Then I realized that Honey BooBoo’s mother managed to find a long term relationship. Then I travel down this road of insecurity. Is it because I’m not pretty? Some days I think I am, others I stare at my flaws. My eyebrows are weird, my teeth are crooked and one is chipped. I break out like a sixteen year old. My nose cheeks, and chest flush red, all the time, even for no reason. I have wrinkles on my forehead, and the reason I smile all the time is vanity because my mouth has a natural downward shape.

Maybe its my personality. Insecurity does make me say stupid things. I could go on and on about how I’m sabotaging my own dating life, but in reality, I just think that I have expectations of how things should be, and I’m disappointed when they aren’t so.

Or I’m just bat shit crazy.



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