Trying Not to Lose Faith In Men: Part I


I’m posting this as a “Part I” since I have absolutely no doubt that there will be a “Part II.” Clearly, I know what I’m dealing with. So Mr. Zegna decided that, even though we’ve known each other for a while (we have a history that dates back far before my post about him), he needs me to give him “butterflies” before we can spend too much time together. You know, butterflies. Like, in his stomach. Mr. Zegna, I’ll give you a fuckin ulcer, if you keep coming at me with this “butterflies” bullshit. Sir, we are way beyond butterflies. He wants to “wonder whether or not [I”m] going to call.” Grow the fuck up. You want to feel that puppy love bullshit? I’ll be the first to tell you that it’s short-lived. And after you feel it and it’s all used up, then what? I know all about butterflies. Let me take a minute to discuss the grown-up version of “butterflies.” You get them when someone that you love thrills you by letting you in, by taking down the wall. You get them when you realize that you don’t have to play bullshit games anymore. You get them once you realize that you have someone worth sharing your life with. Christ, the commitment-phobia of it all. I’m not looking for a ring. In fact, I have no interest in marriage right now — maybe not ever. What I do want is someone with whom I can share mutual trust. And let me be clear that said trust DOES NOT INCLUDE WONDERING IF SOMEONE IS GOING TO CALL. I’m so over that.

I’m convinced that guys really just want you to screw with them. They want you to abuse them, make them fear unrequited love. Remember my Bad Boy? Well, I suspect that Bad Boy is in prison, but before he was, he had me wrapped around his finger until I got my senses together. I can tell you that I was way out of Bad Boy’s league and he treated me like gold so long as I didn’t return his phone calls. The minute I fell for him and started picking up that phone, he walked all over me. Same with Mr. Zegna. Just when I thought a guy might be different from all the rest …

I can screw with guys. In fact, I can’t say that I’m completely innocent in this game of commitment-phobia. Bad Boy probably would’ve gotten old really fast had he not mistaken me for his doormat. Maybe I have some karmic debt to pay. Believe me, though, I wasn’t born with my intimacy issues. I really do deserve some karmic credit. Or at least a balanced account. So fuck you, Mr. Zegna. I deserve more.

Anyway, I went out tonight to support my favorite cover band, Shade of Gray, at R-Bar in Nolita. As luck would have it, the (EXTREMELY HOT) lead singer of the next band up stopped me for my number. So here’s to new beginnings, Mr. Lead Singer Man. May you (a) call me and (b) understand that when I treat you like shit, I’m just doing what you want me to do. And may you (c) worship the ground I walk on, even when I start to love you and treat you humanely. If that’s even possible …

2 Responses to “Trying Not to Lose Faith In Men: Part I”

  1. You go girl – them mofos got to learn not to fuck wit you.

  2. 2 Brittany

    Wowza! So, I guess it is safe to say Mr. Zenga isn’t “the one” right now.

    Your story reminds me of that last episode of Ugly Betty. If you haven’t seen it, you should watch it online.

    btw, I love the graphics you added. They are very … angry.

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