I Got Moves Like Jagger.

If someone really likes you, they'll be ready for a relationship.

If two people have chemistry, then the only other important factor is timing.

I only want what I cannot have.

I know nothing.

I just don't see you as my wife any more.

He's  just not ready for a relationship.

Stop fighting it.

He likes me too much.

You're too far away.

Maybe I don't see myself as a wife anymore.

He doesn't 'fit' what I'm looking for.

I am enjoying being single too much to lower my standards.

I always get what I want.

I'm starting to think it's me who is the Unavailable One.
I'm the one whose timing is off.
Maybe I'm the one who is not ready for a relationship.
Perhaps... I subconciously go after those I cannot have because I don't really want a relationship in the first place. Not a real one, at least. Not right now. Not one where I am then held even partially responsible for someone else's happiness, let alone allowing someone else in enough to make a marionette of my own heartstrings & have even a modicum of control over my happiness. Not one where I have to let down my guard. Why the hell is my guard up anyway? Is it that I don't want to let anyone in enough to know me; to hurt me? I hated that feeling of anxiety and vulnerability with the Australian, and it was nearly unbearable with my Dutchman. I have been comfortable for a long time now with the relationships that are based on a level of 'this may be real, but it will never be Real'. I'm starting to believe that by going after the boys off-limits, the wanderlusts, the foreigners and the I-Forgot-To-Call-ers is really me just projecting my own unavailable-ness onto my own love life. I'm afraid that it's not that I can't get no satisfaction because I'm going after the Mick Jaggers and trying to conquer them, but because I am the unconquerable Mick Jagger.

Wild Horses.
We'll ride them someday.

I was comfortable with the fact that that mysterious Englishman once referred to me as 'The Pretty Girl Who Comes Over Drinks My Wine & Eats my Good Cheese.' That was a title I could live with. & as much as I bitched and moaned that I wanted more, I knew deep down somewhere I was never going to get more. The man who told me point blank 'I'm not ready for a relationship' - I liked him; I had fun with him. But I also knew that spending time with him, though it would make me feel nice & cared about to a certain degree; it would never ask from me any level of vulnerability. Part of me, when he said that, let out a little sigh of relief. And I knew that if I asked more of it or of him, that that safe little neverrealinthefirstplace relationship would cease to exist altogether. And part of me was okay with that. So I didn't.

Maybe I get involved with this sort of man because - maybe, just maybe - at this point in my life, that's all I really want. Or am capable of handling. Something that allows me to get a little lost in It but never so lost that I feel like I am sacrificing a piece of myself to it. I mean, I want The Spark, I love my Dutchman, I was head over heels for my Aussie & my Secret Ex Boyfriend... but still, something about all three of them was
Just Out Of Reach. And I knew it.

Or maybe, like we all tell each other so often - maybe when the right person comes along, I will be ready.
Or the when the timing is right.
But what if my failed relationship with my Ex has put my ability to allow myself to be vulnerable on pause? Or it stopped it all together. I'm not sure. I mean, I'm not sure of anything really. But when that wave of emotional anxiety about someone washes over me, I usually throw up my hands and go,

Oh hell no, I didn't sign up for this shit.

Don't you dare ask me to be vulnerable, my heart and head scream in unison. I do not deal well with vulnerability.



Don't show me yours because I won't show you mine.

I did not want to call Apt F when I fell, because I - and I told him this - didn't want him to see me so vulnerable. I didn't want his help; him to see me with mascara running down my cheeks. I didn't want him to be the one to help me to the doorway of the bathroom, which I needed him to do. I am fighting these feelings with my neighbor;
I am fighting them hard. And I don't know why. He's not up to my standards? He's not It? I do have Feelings for him, but I only admit that through gritted teeth & a clenched jaw. I've often made the joke that I'm kind of a Dude when it comes to dating; I can not call back, I can dismiss the masses pretty easily, I am almost better suited to casual dating than full on Let's Fall In Love situations. I am hard headed & I am stubborn. Someone I was dating just stopped calling, I just kept right on with my life, without an afterthought - & when Goldi asked me if I was even curious about why he stopped calling when things seemed to be going so well, I answered without pause, 'No. Not really.' Then there's the muriad of jerky things that I've said to Apt F, ranging from 'I don't want to go out on the town with you because I don't want to have to explain who you are to people' to 'Oh no, I'm not his girlfriend, I'm just his neighbor' to his friend within his earshot. And more that I probably don't even remember saying. But I made it very clear up until last weekend that this was nothing more than neighbors who occasionally kiss; without even realizing how crystal clear I was making it. And I've felt him letting his guard down; his behaviors have changed.
Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. I know I am a bundle of contradictions; I am happy with my life, I have these extremley high standards set it motion for myself, I have great friends, men fall for me with ease, I want what I can't have yaddayaddayadda. I have a tell-all blog forgodsakes, yet I am almost totally emotionally closed off.
What the hell is my problem?

it's a bird!? it's a plane!?
aaw, who the hell really knows.

The other night, my neighbor fell asleep early & I didn't hear from him. And I sat in bed, anxious, watching the TV screen flicker, thinking to myself,

I did not sign up for this shit. You are not supposed to be able make me feel this way,

All the while listening for a car door slamming or any other indiciation that he was getting home.

I am not Goldilocks.

I am content with the porridge that is too cold; I am content with the bed that is too hard.
Or maybe I'm just not that hungry; Maybe I'm not really looking for somewhere to rest just yet.
Or perhaps I just haven't found Juuuust Right just yet.
Or maybe Juuuust Right left on a jet plane one early August morning.

I guess I just don't know what Just Right really is.
Just yet.