He Makes Me Laugh
But I Really Want To Scream!
Bad boyfriends don’t disguise themselves,
their girlfiends do it for them.
There are a million and five reasons you start to like someone. Or develop a crush on someone. Or start to date someone. Or marry someone. There’s typically a string of characteristics that you see in someone that combine in your mind to form a sort of platform for a prospective partner, someone you can share everything with. Maybe they’re cute, they’re funny, they’re easy-going, they’re a lot of fun to go out with. Maybe they’re not concerned with seemingly frivolous affairs, like, say, money? These were a few of the genius reasons I started dating my ex-boyfriend. Seems pretty harmless, doesn’t it? Lovely, actually. And he was, after all, all of those nice things. But exactly how do these initial points of attraction translate into the reality of sharing a relationship, and subsequently your life, with someone? Into reciprocal affection and concern for one another on a continual basis? Well, in my case, like shit.
Ideal scenario: My new boyfriend is so funny, he always makes me laugh. Sounds great, right? My new boyfriend is super laid-back and easy-going. Fabulous. My new boyfriend is so much fun to hang out with, we just always have a great time. Sound fucking fantastic or what?! Sounds like an absolute fucking nightmare is what it sounds like to me now. These initial features seemed to be the framework for a long-lasting and stable bond. (just keeping things rational!) Turns out, “stable” was just about the last adjective on the face of the earth that could have been used to describe our hellish little case. Instead, together we created one huge and strangely unique cluster fuck of neglect and vicious behavior over the course of nearly three years.
It started innocently enough. We were best friends. We were more or less inseparable. In retrospect, maybe being just friends with someone to start with kicked off this recipe for disaster? After all, we pick our friends and boyfriends differently…right? Or maybe not. Maybe I just picked him because he had all the qualities I would want…in a friend. Which might not intrinsically seem like a bad thing. I mean, we do end up being so extremely close with our boyfriends or girlfriends that they actually do become our best friends. Don’t we? This is the type of rationalization that got me screwed. Because in reality, you don’t want to actually screw your best friend. Everyone knows that once you screw, everything else is screwed. And why would you want to screw up your friendship? It’s all very screwy. But when you meet someone who should be only your friend and nothing more, yet you ignore this instinct and spend all your time with them anyway…and you gradually develop a habit of strong cocktails and snuggling…well, you are going to screw. And get screwed. Trust me.
Once I got past the weirdness of translating my best friendship into the most functional form of a relationship I could manage, things were, well, different. Shocking, huh? Suddenly my new boyfriend was not my new boyfriend anymore. He was just my boyfriend. No more new. But what’s even weirder is the fact that the whole “friendship” we had spent a year building had vanished. No matter what you do, you can’t get a friendship back after taking such a big step away from it. This is less than desirable when the entire reason you started dating was because of your friendship. Yes, all that italicizing is necessary. It happens to be just about the most significant part of my story.
So when that blinding rush of NEW wasn’t quite there anymore, what happens? After a couple months, shock waves tend to fizzle. Reality checks in and colors fade out. Moving from a realm of friendship and lightheartedness to a space of love and commitment is truly a mind-numbing web of confusion. There’s such finality to it. And there is definitely and most assuredly no turning back from it. I was certainly caught in that web for a while. And I was left with the reality of what it’s like to date your best friend. To make matters worse, sure enough, we shared all the exact same mutual friends. So things translated from friendship into romantic relationship life like a fucking foreign language.
Well, guess what “funny” translated into? Sarcastic. Dry. Almost just plain mean. Never takes anything seriously. Never takes me seriously. Ever. EVER. One big bucket of laughs, huh?! Guess what laid-back translated into? Zero personal effort, zero emotional effort, zero sanity for me. I think you get the picture but just for shits, guess what “a lot of fun” translated into? Oh I don’t know, say, five, six nights a week spent heavily drinking? Sure. And naturally, a bi-weekly trip to the casino for good measure. Good times.
Now, for the record, I’m not actually angry with my ex-boyfriend (anymore) and I don’t harbor negative or violent feelings for him (most of the time). Because what did he do, really? Other than be himself? He was exactly who I fell in love with from the moment I started dating him until the moment I was throwing his belongings in large quantities down the stairs of my house. Exactly. He didn’t change a pinch. (Total asshole, right?) Did I even want him to change? Not really, that’s the thing. I loved him as a boyfriend for the same reasons I had loved him as a friend. Had I changed? To be honest, not really. I wanted the same things from start to finish. What had changed was the course our friendship, our transition to a relationship, our relationship itself. Of course, we grew older, we changed in the usual ways 20-somethings will change. But I tend to think it was less about us changing and more about our efforts to transform an impossibility into a possibility. Who did we think we were?
So why is it that when, post-ridiculously-dramatic-break-up, I met a guy who was sweet, sane, and perfectly suitable for me, I promptly rejected the entire idea of him? He would have been perfect for me. He would have treated me like gold. He – probably, most likely – wouldn’t be ditching me on anniversary dinner plans at the last minute to go to a strip club. So why was there not one thing about him that excited me? Is it just the chase? I don’t think so, I tire quickly. Is it the need to be the girl who can change the guy? I don’t think so, I’m far too dreamy for such work. Or is it just that no matter what, women like myself are drawn to men who are just no good for them. No matter what, those initial attractions, the very same ones that often draw us to be friends with someone, snowball into the exact qualities that drive us into a frenzied fury of mutual despair – even hatred – come closing time. But ask me today what characteristics I look for in a man. I dare you. Answer: Cute! Funny! Fun! Laid-back! What is the issue here? Well, for now, I don’t want to think about it. I am currently much too busy sleeping with a fresh new brand of cocky, self-important prick. And he’s totally adorable.
