here by popular demand, i have no boundaries.

i have started to write this entry a thousand times and it sits in drafts, getting more and more added to it as time progresses and i become crazier. the main points always stay the same. i know it sounds crazy but life, you’ve made me this way.

so dating always starts the same way. i start hanging out with someone. i then cannot figure out whether he likes me or just has nothing better to do than spend time with me. most people are thinking, “what? who would spend time with someone they didn’t think was that great just because they didn’t have anything better to do?” the funny thing is i have been on both sides of this social retard phenomenon.

if i ever figure out whether they actually like me or not, then i get crazy. you see internet, if you like me “too much”, i will become spooked and paranoid, kind of like black beauty on oxycontin, and run like the wind. if you don’t show enough effort and are too laidback, i end up thinking “he’s just not into me” and contemplate pulling a jessica stein or getting another cat. “he’s just not that into you” may in fact be the worst book i have ever read because i get thinking about every little thing as “he doesn’t like me. that’s okay. i’m still cool, right sydney?”

if things are actually working out and move into the physical realm, i become increasingly crazy. first off, i am much hotter on the internet due to you know fat, stretch marks, and leaky boobs. i am not too experienced in the physical arena as i’ve only “really” been with the cherry popsicle partnerwise and really, we could have been doing it wrong for seven years. we had tons of offs where i would briefly date some randoms but never take it to that level. dear internet, i am sure you recall the famous vacuum incident where the last time i reached a certain point with someone and they were critiquing my housekeeping skills. ouch.

so you could be bad, or worse they could be bad and there is always the chance you can just get flipped over and receive the surprise of your life with no preparation. i’ve heard the horror stories, thanks everyone. it’s also been ages. that alone increases my risk to have some sort of honeymoom cystitis and end up on a course of antibiotics, losing ten pounds and moaning on my bathroom floor, and not in the shaggy sort of way.

i am also increasingly neurotic about having another baby or getting an std or both. as i’ve said a thousand times before, you can’t even go down on anyone anymore without getting something funky in your throat just like emma on degrassi when they were exchanging sexual favours for bracelets. then you get into the whole condom pickle. i am a firm believer in the condom jinx because really, the last time i bought condoms i didn’t have sex for two years. use someone else’s condoms? ha. i don’t think so. there is always the chance that i am a poor judge of character and thus, they have poked holes in them in some attempt to sew their devil seed AND give me chlamydia. that’s the silent disease that OMG, I COULD HAVE IT RIGHT NOW AND NOT EVEN KNOW.

it’s neat because these thoughts enter my crazy brain the second anyone touches me. a coworker’s voice face appears with her giving the sage advice, “don’t ever be anyone’s convenience fuck, laura” along with several images from the health unit’s propaganda they hand out at school. this leads me to jump, run away and say something socially awkward yet charming like, “don’t touch me, why are you touching me?” and “i’m not that kind of girl”, uttered in the high pitched shriek everyone has all learned to love.

because of all the above, i get so worked up over even the most simple little date. i try to be the “aloofest” person ever and act calm and cool but inside, i feel like i might vomit and want to cry, put on my pajamas and go home to share a taco dip with my cat. as sarah can attest, practicing aloof involves flailing of arms, my voice quite higher than usual and honking my horn by accident (literally, not in the wise words of dolly parton, “sometimes you gotta honk your own horn so people know that you’re coming.)

why am i like this? god only knows. well, actually everyone knows. i’ve been ditched before and have more than a few abandonment issues. i’ve been used for sex before. i don’t particularly want to go down either road again.

so why do i even bother? i do sometimes remember what it was like to share things with and be so happy and in love with someone i feel the need to sing about it. i wouldn’t want to even get out of bed because cuddling or thinking about the previous night seems like a much nicer alternative, a la the wise jewel and her morning song. i like to have someone to tell things to even if it’s that i don’t have lice or that a baby chick pooped on me today. luckily, i am very happy lately with *just* the fam, friends and my psuedogirlfriend. in fact, i’ve been happier than i have been in a long time..sometimes, there just seems to be one little void just waiting to be filled by someone who is not retarded and will find my crazyness to be endearing and hopefully not, stomp my heart into little bits.