I came to a realization a couple of days ago. I’m really bad at dating, and really fucked up about men. Men scare and confuse me. I don’t know how to handle them, so I am clumsy and make poor choices. I text too much or too little. I assume they don’t like me from the beginning, so I alienate them. Or, like in this blog, I write men off as pathetic because I don’t want to feel hurt or scared or sad or vulnerable.

Plus, there’s the obvious fact that I’m the common denominator in all of these situations. I’m smart enough to have always seen that, but, lately, thinking about it, I realize more and more how much dysfunction I bring to the dates I go on.

Of course, some of (maybe a lot of, maybe most of) the men I’ve gone on dates with are Total Fucking Assholes. Or crazy. Or gay for pay. But I’m sure more than I’d like to admit were lovely guys who just a) thought I was a fucking weirdo, or b) didn’t know how to handle themselves on a first date. Which I should understand, because I don’t either. Dating is really hard. It requires a lot of suspension of disbelief and also intuiting how someone else feels. There is a confusing code that I don’t pretend to have any sort of hold on. And I can’t be the only one.

So, I’ve decided to suspend the illustrious Men That Are Rectangles for an undetermined period of time. Because I need to learn to cut men some slack. And, more importantly, I need to face my demons. I need to feel scared and confused and vulnerable. I need to acknowledge that sometimes I suck. And that sometimes I’m pissed at a guy or kind of hurt because he rejected me, and that doesn’t mean he sucks. It just means I’m a human being, and I’m interacting with other human beings, and we’re all trying to figure things out.

Thank you for all of the really amazing feedback and love that you’ve given me, dear readers. I’ll keep you posted on what comes next.

Love,

The Little Red-Haired Girl

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