(First of all, my most sincere apologies to Chris if this was supposed to be something really private between us... But it didn't seem like anything supersecret or anything. If it is, let me know.)
So I went to Chris's apartment the other night. We were going to track down some doughnuts and maybe some orange juice, but ended up too tired to bother.
And he said to me, something to the effect of... well, that he wanted to be single, that he really wasn't up for dating somebody, and that he felt sort of guilty about it, having slept with me. I didn't really know quite how to reply. I just told him he didn't need to worry about it, because I felt similarly: I'm not really looking for somebody to date.
I cannot see myself dating Chris. I like Chris. I suppose I even love Chris, although "love" isn't a word I like to throw around easily. But I can't see myself calling him my boyfriend.
Essentially, I have had three boyfriends in my entire life. That is, three people who have said, aloud, to the general public, "Helena is my girlfriend," and either didn't "cheat" on me, or made a genuine effort to hide it. And there was David, who kind of told everybody we were "whatever" (that means "seeing one another" -- it's easier to pick up on these things when you've got body language going for you), but he was seeing other people as well, and didn't bother hiding that from me. (And for the most part, I really didn't mind.)
And then what? THEN there was a myriad of people who wouldn't admit they had ANYTHING to do with me. Andrew, who wouldn't acknowledge me because he was engaged. Peter, who wouldn't acknowledge me because he... well, yeah. Bennie, who said he was in love with me, but he was dating some other girl and... whatever. Josh, who followed me around like a puppy-dog, and wanted to write me love letters all the time but didn't want to "date." Aaron, who hooked up with me once, and then told me I was meant to be with somebody else and wouldn't date me out of respect for my true Soul Mate *eyes rolling*. T., who told me I was his girlfriend and then told everybody else I was this weird girl who followed him around; he also had a girlfriend. The list is ridiculously long. Like, thirty or forty people I've had some sort of kinda-romantic involvement with, and who I never really dated. Truly, I can walk from my house to Java Joe's and run into somebody I've at least kissed, at any time of day.
"Dating."
What's the thrill of being somebody's girlfriend?
It's stopped meaning anything at all. You go to the movies with the person you're dating. Okay, but I'd feel fine going to the movies with ANYBODY. You go out to lunch and dinner and breakfast with the person you're dating. Yeah, but I do those things with ANYBODY. You cuddle with people you're dating. Yeah, but I cuddle with LOTS of people. My favorite person in the world to hug is my friend Nathan, and I'm HARDLY dating him. You hang out, and you talk, and you argue and you make up, and you sit home and watch movies and eat popcorn and Pizza Bites and strawberries... Just like you'd do with any other friend, only the stakes are higher, because if you mess up somehow, you might "break up."
*sigh*
So FUCK dating. Where's the pleasure in being somebody's girlfriend if you've got to be worried all the time about your partner cheating on you, or your partner not wanting to be with you, or WHATEVER...?
Chris thought he was just going to like, emotionally ruin me by saying -- sort of vaguely, in that sort-of-vague English-major way -- he didn't want to date. He didn't emotionally ruin me. He didn't hurt me in the least. I don't see "dating" as a step above friendship. I don't see "dating" as a step above a "hook-up." I've had "hook-ups" infinitely more meaningful than long relationships with boyfriends. I've had brief friendships that transcended long relationships with boyfriends. Once, I spent a night drinking wine and talking to a lovely young man at college, and it was one of the nicest, most pleasant experiences on my life. I don't really see it as a matter of degree.
Now, I suppose this kind of makes me sound slutty, as in, have your cake and eat it too... But that's really not it. I'm not against the whole faithfulness-and-monogamy thing... It's just... I don't understand it, and I think it would limit me in ways I'm not accustommed to.
...Like when I dated Greg, who got upset with me when I'd go out for coffee with anybody other than him, including my own freaking mother.
...Like when I dated Mike, who got upset when I wanted to go to parties and stuff, because HE didn't drink. Well, fuck it. *I* drank, and *I* wanted to go to a party, and I hated staying in and watching X-files because he didn't want to go out.
...Like when I dated Erich and we were inseparable. I didn't WANT to be inseparable.
I'm not very good at compromise. I'm not very good at selling myself short. I'm not very good at giving my whole soul to one person all the time. Or all of my time.
The closest thing I think I'll have to a relationship, at least for a very long time, is Java Joe's. Sometimes it's a little lonely. But it beats the alternative. At least, for now.
And, happily, Chris comes into Java's frequently.
I have to go. Sleep is calling. I have to open tomorrow.
Love,
~Helena*
"If I can't have you, NO ONE WILL..." --"I put a spell on you," (the M. Manson version -- don't ask; it just popped into my head...)