Crushed by Candy

When they inevitably ask me what finally caused me to crack and fly into a murderous rampage, it may very well be Candy Crush level 267.  You may ask yourself “Self, why would someone so brilliant and handsome submit himself to such sweet torture?”  An excellent question!  But this scenario is far from unique.  A cursory review of my life choices reveals that I must have a penchant for colossal amounts of self-inflicted frustration.  Still, failing repeatedly to reach an arbitrary goal by sliding around animated candies is infinitely less frustrating than being in a relationship.  For me anyway.  Cheaper too.


I feel like I’ve given up the privilege of being in a relationship based on 1: the plethora of relationship related bad choices I’ve made all my life and (more importantly) 2: my apparent ambivalence to wanting to change those behaviors.  I just keep going ’round and ’round, doing the same things, NOT expecting a different result.  I generally can’t trust my feelings or my thoughts, so spending time resetting expectations feels like an exercise in futility.

I’m seeing various scenarios for new relationships popping up all over the place it seems.  Several girls that I’ve been talking to for years are all of a sudden single or are about to be.  A couple of whom I really, really like a lot.  I start to get excited and begin to think of all the possibilities, but then I realize that although their situations have changed, I remain the same.  Then it’s the inevitable catch 22: I want to be with someone that I really like (obviously), but I feel that if I really like them that much then I would never want them to date someone like me.

This blog will serve primarily as a place for me to share the thoughts and experiences that I honestly don’t feel comfortable talking to anyone about.  I generally keep these things to myself because they can be so frustratingly difficult to verbalize and also because I don’t want people to worry about me.  I’ll probably be sharing a lot of things that I’m not proud of at all, but may come across as bragging.  The thing is that there IS a part of me that wants to brag about sleeping with strippers or doing something else that’s stupid or risky (more to come on my bipolar disorder in future posts) but trust me I am usually the first person to recognize and point out my bad choices.  As they say on TV, do NOT try any of this at home.