A Nutshell Dating History

The story behind the hot ticket…from March 2006 – present

A NUT SHELL DATING HISTORY Chapter 1 March 2006

It seemed appropriate as someone who has never written professionally before on the subject of relationships and dating to give a type of autobiography of my dating life rather than a resume with information of my irrelevant experience on it, so here I go.

Since I can remember, up until about a year and a half ago, I was always afraid of relationships. I believe in my youth it was the simple awkwardness of being so close to someone that they’d know everything about you, including every flaw and fault of yours. The issue of sex was scary as hell to say the least and not something I would’ve wanted to fight over with someone I cared about, which seems to be the common story of the infamous after school specials, so I consider myself lucky that boys were simply just not that into me in school. By this I mean I consider myself lucky NOW, definitely not then. I managed to preserve my innocence until I was 18 where I fell completely utterly madly in love with an alleged type of pseudo-superhuman every girl seemed to be into, who somehow saw me for who I was and loved me too. It was bliss until he decided to move and asked me to go with him and on our way to our new home, things began to fall apart. The strangeness of being with me amongst his friends was something he hadn’t prepared for. So a downward spiral ensued and after 11 months, I finally threw in the towel and begrudgingly went home.

Crushed beyond my wildest dreams, I returned to a life where no one intrigued me and where all I longed to do was go anywhere else. After a few misguided attempts at dating (including a completely insane drug addict, my younger sister’s mixed signal-plagued friend who seemed to be deathly afraid of me and a guy my “best friend” was meant to be setting me up with while she instead went for him) with my complete fear of being crushed still rampant and a vow to never allow it to happen again, I managed to leave my home town again and run off to Europe for two years.

Within the first week, I met my next significant boyfriend and my longest relationship to date. Two years in England with him resulted in a plethora of cold and insensitive behavior on my part. The fear of being hurt again kept my own heart’s protection far higher on my list of priorities than his and ended with him breaking up with me because we bickered like brother and sister and realized we weren’t in love with each other. We became best friends immediately and my only regret is that I didn’t act like I loved him more. Regardless of the fact that we were not in love, he should’ve felt the affection that I had for him instead of me just being a little selfish brat, and now he does.

The next two and a half years were what most people would call their promiscuous phase. It was definitely my most interesting and exciting, but not nearly as promiscuous as most can honestly admit. I became a type of conquest in my hometown because I was the girl who didn’t sleep around. I became more of a make out queen because for once in my life, every time I went out I seemed to meet a new guy I was into. I almost never ended up dating them, perhaps due to my reputation for not sleeping with people, perhaps because they found me as abrasive and intimidating as guys allegedly did in my past, or perhaps because I would tell them from the very beginning that I had absolutely no interest in an exclusive relationship, nor a mere sexual relationship.

During this time, I managed to date two people within the exact same time period who knew about one another for a stretch of about 4 months and although I considered myself at the time to be completely straightforward and fair about it, I realize now that it shouldn’t have occurred because those two people will never forgive me for not choosing the one over the other and being done with it. Attempts at friendships and possibly something more serious later on have more or less crashed and burned with all such people. No one wants to be friends with the girl who rejected them to any degree whatsoever in the past because it reminds them of their failure and of weakness.

Well, not quite no one.

There have been a few who know how to bounce back and I applaud them for it often. They know who they are. Throughout the two and a half years I had many ups and downs with male friends telling me of their feelings that I didn’t care to reciprocate beyond an innocently physical PG interaction. I also met many people with intentions of dating me, and from these, a very exclusive few who somehow got over the usual shock of me deciding to pass on the serious commitment with them, and remained my true friends. These two types are basically the only people who are my male friends now. This occurred to me last year during a time where I had another phase of impossible difficulty meeting people I could talk to. It was when I moved to a smaller town to once again evade the over-familiarity, common resentment and super-soap-opera-style drama of bring well-known in my home town. Note that I am avoiding naming the actual city.

One of my best friends was moving to this small town for art school and in a fit of desperation I realized I could get up and leave again as well, so I came into the unknown and although I liked the city itself, I found the people to not be into the same things as me. To specify these “things” would be futile, so the most basic way to explain what I’m into is to just say boys. Boy-crazy is a term that has followed me around since my youth and although I have been known to make a loyal girlfriend, my most common character trait is how much I chase, talk about and obsess over boys. Several months went by where I was more or less without friends, definitely without prospects and with only very few propositions I had absolutely no interest in. Working nights in a bar you’d think would have embellished my dating life but it did not. I deduced later on that hitting on the girls who work in the bar here is less common than any other cities that I’ve worked in the industry. I’ve also heard that small town guys don’t trust attractive women. Grand. So in my boredom, quite a great deal of thought went into all of this. So much so that I began to write notes and aspired to write a book on the subject of the dating world and relationships as far as I am concerned, because for having no real ambition or motivation to do anything career-oriented with my life, this seemed to be the only subject that for 1) interested me and 2) I actually knew anything about. Then something unexpected happened. I fell in love again. Or at least what felt like love. During a time when it seemed like I couldn’t meet anyone I could relate to, I met a person who could relate to me. The trouble was that it was a person who I had met twice briefly in my hometown who was then residing in near my new town who I found through…get ready for it…Myspace. We engaged in an intense phone relationship where we completely spilled our guts to one another for several hours every day and immediately felt we had found soul mates in each other. For example, the second conversation we ever had he asked me to marry him and I agreed. While waiting out the two or three weeks until he could come and visit me, he would mail me letters and CDs he had made for me and talk to me of such things as who my bridesmaids would be. I felt I had met my match. Notoriously known over the years as the girl who left everyone behind, this fact perhaps made his most appealing quality that he was moving to a different country immediately after his two week stay with me. After utterances of true lasting love standing the test of time rather than breaking up to be safe, he left me. A week went by where things seemed fine until I chose to officially back out, maybe out of fear, maybe it was a premonition of the disappointment yet to come or maybe I got bored and was looking for something else. The interest he had in me was lost to his new world and as it slowly drove me insane, it finally came down to me cutting him off completely a couple of months later after ideas to go there and see him weren’t met with the type of enthusiasm I required to go through with it. Although it seemed my heart had been broken again, I reveled at the fact that I seemed to have trained myself to not be so cut up about it and felt more or less ok. It took about a day. Gripped with this new self-awareness, a taste for love and all things romantic, as well as a new yearning for something solid instead of the fleeting flames I had learned to occupy myself with, I became a dreamer. Since then I have begun conducting experiments. I had an idea to start calling dates “interviews” because I couldn’t seem to get one because of what I’m told is my intimidating nature. Apparently, a strong personality and exceptional sense of style are frowned upon to the point of feigning ignorance by the average male. That’s what I’m told anyway. The ever-present battle is still up in arms for people to find someone who makes them happy without taking anything out of their own soul and without scaring the life out of each other. The trial and error methods of the dating world have become somewhat of an obsession to me and only now, twenty years after my first kiss, after much experience in fear, failure, loss and hope am I beginning to find some of the answers. Chapter 2: The Nut’s

Revision August 2008

During the course of more relationships aimed for the dumpster, I came up with a true plan and true outline for what would be my insight on relationships book. With the observation that I kept falling for effeminate men, or completely unattainable ones who didn’t live in the same province as me, the consideration of dating women came to be. In the 2nd of my two years in the small town, I dated a guy named Iggy who for 5 months had no interest in me sexually who I ended up breaking up with when I realized there were in fact prospects out there who wanted me in a conventional way. I then had a ludicrous long distance yearning for a man name Vice who was simply too busy for how bored I was. Then I fell in what I thought was love at first sight with Sabian, which lasted about as long as the first sight. After these three failed attempts at finding what I was looking for, I met a woman name Allustra who I fell completely in love with. She was going through a phase where she did not want to drink because it made her overly promiscuous and she wasn’t into it anymore, so while we were together we weren’t really together. I think she took it less seriously than me, but I described us as being like an old married couple, where we held hands on the couch and watched movies, went on mini-dates, played with eachothers’ hair, that kind of thing. The end result was her suggesting that I date her ex-boyfriend and after two weeks of intensity with him and an odd love triangle, I decided to just be friends with him which didn’t go over well at all. The mental states of these two made it clear what a match they had made for the year they were together. I loved them both but could not handle the stress involved in relieving their stress. I gave my personality a backseat to their problems and I had never felt so helpless ever in my life, so I stopped seeing both of them and we pretty much never spoke again. Deciding to move back to my hometwon in 2008 was a business decision, crossed with the clear fact that my change of heart about love and relationships was derived from my sister having a baby the year before and my heart finally succumbing to the vulnerability of loving anything. I grew up. Family became more important than anything else.

And although I am presently not planning to have my own family, I searched far and low for someone who made me happy to spend my time with. After about two years of singledom, I found the one who made me happy and he was the only person I know who wanted me to write anything I want about him. Chapter 3: The Next Nut May 2009 After about six months with Elliot, we broke up for the same types of reasons as I had encountered before. We were destined to be best friends. He had issues in his past that I won’t go into that made it clear why he hadn’t been in relationships before me, but for several months thereafter we still saw eachother every few days and remained really close. I was with him when I started to put the book together after the years of notes, and was hoping for the happy ending, with he and I in a functional relationship, but the search goes on. He no longer wanted to be friends after a while because he said he still loved me. That wasn’t enough to change my mind. Chapter 4:

And the Next Most Recent Next Nutjob September 2009

One more strange story has inspired an unhappy ending but a great deal of insight and an exorbitant amount of negatively founded but bizarrely positive inspiration to finish the book (which I didn’t). This last one’s name is Bison and he has in a very twisted way given me reason to believe I’m not cut out for relationships, just like my grandma told me. A new theory has befallen me, and it is the simple fact that most men need to feel some sort of control over me to be happy in a relationship with me. Given my personality, profession and general way of thinking, this is an absolute impossibility in my world. Even the notion of letting someone think they have control over me grosses me out, and it makes clear that my longest relationships were with the more docile and gentle men. The word submissive comes to mind, although I do not and have not ever claimed to have derived any ego-fueled power from these gentle hearted ones. I believe that it just so happens that our individual personalities evened each other out, similar to the Equilibrium Theory, and it just so happens that power hungry (and often confidence-lacking) men are not what I desire as a companion, hence why those relationships are always obscenely short lived. Bison was an excellent example of this need for power over me, due to an even more perfect example of insanely low self-esteem, despite his absolute beauty and his marvelous charm. I also discovered something which undoubtedly seems so perfectly clear now, 3 years after collecting words from the men I sought: I fall in love with men who write to me. Bison was a great example of this too, and the intricacy of his words haunted and enchanted me every second that I knew him until I realized he was a great big fake. It is difficult for me to admit in such a permanently irrevocable outlet as this, but 5 months have gone by since the eruptive clashing of our minds and the final unsaid messy goodbye, but I still think about him every day.

Even though he is the worst of all my experiences, in a way he was also the best and in a disgusting twisted lovelorn way, I hope that one day he will find his confidence and be able to come back to me. In the meantime, I’ve become jaded where love is concerned, and for the first time in my life I care less about finding my soulmate than anything else. With the shortest, yet worst relationship of my life under my belt I somehow don’t feel the inclination to try again. My love is lost, and I expect much less to follow it now than I ever did.

Chapter 5: The Updated Woman With An Updated Plan July 2013

To be continued….

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