Goldiloco And The Three Hundred Bears

IF I there was a porno about my life, it would be called Too Deep, Too Soon. This would also be the name of my memoir*.

But if my life was a fairytale, it would be Goldiloco and The Three Hundred Bears. Because I feel like I’ve dated about three hundred fucking bears.

I’ve long held the belief I am inherently bad at relationships. But I recently realised, I’m actually really good at them, as long as the person is doing everything I want. I’m really good at that relationship. Which is obviously entirely fictional, and in my head.

I am the Golidlocks of the dating world.

This one’s too hot; This one’s too cold; This one’s just right… Now he’s out of sight.

 

The last two years have put me on a pretty rapid journey of self-discovery. I’ve discovered exactly what I’ve suspected all along about myself. I am perfectly fucking awesome and the rest of the world are a bunch of absolute fucktards.

Also, I can be pretty psycho when it comes to dating.

After two, back-to-back two-year incredibly shit and emotionally abusive relationships, I was broken.

I had no idea how to pick up the pieces, and so I didn’t even try. I just survived. The idea of loving again seemed like an impossible task. It was like someone had injected a feeling of numbness into me, and that was my default setting. My entire personality changed. The only emotion I was able to truly connect with, and feel, was anger. I oscillated between feeling empty or feeling fucking furious. The weird thing about anger is it’s enticing and delicious; when you spend your days feeling numb, in comparison, fury actually feels pretty great.

So I embraced the fury and went on a war-path.

I pretty much spent the next two years dating and fighting men, and anyone else near me who dared piss me off. I didn’t just burn bridges, I destroyed them.

And it made me feel fucking alive.

I’ve lost count of how many dates I went on in that period of time. The majority of them went absolutely nowhere. The ones that had potential, I sabotaged with my fury or instability. The moment a man defied my high expectations, I used it as an excuse to crack it. Trust me, it’s amazing how many things can make you angry when you’re specifically looking for things to be angry about.  Then, I’d twist things to always make myself out to be the victim. To be fair, I often was.

But I delighted in that narrative to an unhealthy extent.

Although I dated a lot, I didn’t have sex enough. I’m not saying that as a means of justifying my dating a lot of men. Quite the opposite. I don’t know if it’s the mixed messages in the media or the double standard placed upon women and their sexual expression, but I am the perfect combination of horny, but frigid. As you can imagine, I have quite the eclectic sex life.

There are two types of people in this world: those who will admit they can relate to what I am about to share, and liars.

 

The story begins will a work guy. You know how they say ‘don’t shit where you eat?’ – well it turns out, they say that for a reason.

‘Part 2: Don’t Eat Your Porridge At Work’ will be out on Sunday night at 6pm. I don’t want you guys to overdose on mayhem 😘