So I have this nasty habit of staying friends with the people I've dated. I've always figured that there was something I did once like about them, and there would be no detriment to have them in my lives. Wow, I'm so mature, look at me go. Well I guess the only major pitfall of staying friends with the people you used to eskimo kiss is the sordid little mess of past romantic feelings.
Those feelings can stick fucking hard, too. You can't just forget how good they look in their skivvies, or how much you love their cute little horse laugh. And you can't forget that they've fondled your B-cups (Or C to D cups for the lucky ones out there). Something feels unnatural about going from wanting to rail the shit out of each other to platonic study sessions. How can you go from wanting to have sex with each other to playful jabs in the arm?
But you know what? I can honestly say I don't retain any feelings for my symbolically castrated exes-turned-buddies. And I hold a bigger issue with that. (Of course I do. I could never just let something GO. It HAS to be a bigger issue!) Where the fuck did the feelings go? How do I go from googly eyed to chummy in 10 seconds flat? The only explanation I can deduce is that I am incapable of actual feelings, and react only on brief sexual impulses, then move on, leaving a path of bitterness and platonic relationships in my wake. Shit.
On the other end...why do so many men who want to date me want to be friends? They didn't want to date me. But they think I'm hot. And apparently smart, and cool, and fun and just amazingly awesome enought to continue hanging out with. Goodie. So I'm hot, fun, smart, and cool...but undateable. Yes, this makes fixing my problem immensely easier.
To illustrate my point, let me turn to the example of my most recent dating partner turned study buddy- can we call him Caleb? I like that name, I've always wanted to date a Caleb. Caleb and I were hot and heavy (I hate that phrase) most of last November. It is a really big deal for me if a guy lasts through more than one cycle of my period, and he just barely made it. The break up was pretty bad (oh...that is another story for another day), but for some reason unbeknown to myself, we decided we would continue to speak to each other.
Now I don't know if Caleb knew this, but I was LYING, I didn't mean it! Yet he still presses to actively hang out, and last night I gave in. And by gave in I mean got lonely, and wondered if the spark was still there, fine I will admit it. I could tell the second he walked in that it was just gone. Maybe I just don't like his beard. Maybe it was his haircut. But let's be honest, it was more likely my subconscious telling me what I don't want to admit:
I ALREADY KNOW THE ENDING TO THIS STORY! He came over, and we still have a rapport, we certainly do. We get each other's jokes, we interest each other in some capacity, there was even some flirtation there, but let's be honest, I'd hit on a tree if it'd flirt back. He kissed me, and I felt nothing. We continued to kiss, and I felt nothing. He started kissing my neck, and... I got horny and thought about sleeping with him. Does horny count as a "feeling?" He spent the night, and I guess it still felt good to be in his arms. But that's the only adjective I can think of to describe it. And good is a pretty bad adjective. Great poets do not describe the loves of their lives as "good." 80's monster love ballads (the highest form of human expression), never once utilized that bland little word.
And you know why it only felt good? Because the next morning when we woke up, I remembered why I don't want to date him- he's a whiny bitch! So I guess I can't beat up on myself saying, "My feelings are erratic and baseless!" No! There is a base, and that base is his fucking annoying whiny voice. I work too hard. I have to take the train. I don't know if I should eat first or go home first. I don't want to go to my classes. I need new pants. On, and on, and on, and on, and...I'm going to stop now, before I get too harsh. He is a good guy, and we are friends...after all.
When we first start dating someone, we only get the amazing parts. The stuff we have in common, the qualities they chose to reflect to us to make them a more attractive partner. And we do the same. Eventually, the shit comes out, and the shit is either endearing or obnoxious. Actually, it's usually somewhere in the middle, around the "I can tolerate this" to "I only sometimes hope you die in a fire" range. Romantic feelings usually die past this range. However, it's easy enough to stay friends with people possessing mildly frustrating qualities because of one key difference; You don't have to give your friends blowjobs.
I hope we can still be friends!
Ivy
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