I actually had fairly good luck with the site. I dated a few guys pretty casually until I met the Gentleman Caller in November. If you've been reading my blog, you may have picked up on the fact that I haven't referred to him as my 'boyfriend.' This is for a few reasons: 1. I hate that word. For some reason, it seems really smug. I used to want to slap girls who talked non-stop about their 'boyfriend' as if they were lording it over those of us who didn't have them. And 2. Being a total commitment-phobe, this label and inherent definition freaks me out. Ain't no ring on this finger, I do what I want! And yet, for all intents and purposes, that's what he was. He fought by my side when the cockroaches tried to take over my apartment. He basically carried my old dead fridge down the stairs and brought my new sparkling one back up all by himself. He even came to my rescue when Stan decided to die on my lunch break at Baja Fresh. He taught me how to golf, fish, and shoot clay pigeons with shotguns. He's good people, that one. We had good times too.
At least it gives me an excuse to eat chocolate again.
Since my work, well what I really want to do, doesn't really allow for me to be anywhere other than Los Angeles, I'm kind of stuck. Plus, as a modern kind of girl, it kills me when a woman uproots her whole life just to chase some guy. Or who sits around at home knitting, waiting for him to come home. It just kind of sucks though. This relationship (blech) didn't really get the chance to fizzle out and die of natural causes like the others. We didn't have time to get bored of each other or make some colossal deal breaker of a mistake, leading to a dramatic and bitter end. So now we're just kind of in this awkward pause. Not exactly broken up, but not really seeing each other either. We're free to date other people, but if he comes back and we're still free, I guess we pick up where we left off?
It seems weird to even think about that right now. I went back on plentyoffish to see what other fish were in the sea, but it just seems tiresome now. I refuse to put myself in cold storage, but every other guy just seems repulsive and lame. Not that the Gentleman Caller was by any means a perfect Adonis (see my list of Fictional Men Who Have Ruined Real Men For Life). But I kind of dug him and that was enough. According to several sitcoms, it takes half the length of a relationship to get over someone. If that's the case, I have a bit of a rocky road ahead of me. My heart isn't broken by any means, but I think I'm entitled to a tiny bit of angst.
We decided to "keep in touch," the long distance variation of "let's still be friends." But part of me thinks that may be harder than just quitting cold turkey. Like ripping open the stitches over and over. (That's a tad melodramatic. It's really not that bad.) So, quick poll for those of you who stumbled upon this semi-hidden post: long distance, yay or nay? And if you decide against long distance, do you stay in touch?