There are many reasons, I tell myself, that I like to be alone. More plainly, reasons why I don’t date. However, upon closer inspection lately it has occurred to me that these reasons all equate to one thing. I’m nuts.
I am so ready to not be nuts.
I have impossibly high standards. I look for the uncommitable, the emotionally unavailable, the men with mommy issues. Then, after a few months I become resentful – inform said man that this ride only has enough room for my baggage and please don’t let the door hit you in the ass on the way out. That’s just how it goes. And I was sort of okay with that. In fact, I could not tell you the last time I had an actual “feeling,” if you will.
And that’s probably not normal.
Now, I’m sure the real reasons I don’t date are burried deep in my psyche and are related to at least one, if not all of, the following
my mother is crazy.
my father is crazier.
and I’ve never seen a real relationship work .
But this is not a therapy session and I’d like to spare you as well as me a deeply probing conversation with my unconscious. For the time being I’m just going to ruminate on why it is, exactly, that I’m crazy.
