Ah, cuddlers. One. Two of you out there. None? Ugh, I’d like to be… Do you hop out of bed at the first sight of a canoodling? This has got to be a trick question. How amped does your anxiety get when your lying down with someone and while he’s snuggling away, while you’re scanning the room for your booties and track suit onesie. Rhetorical. Ok. So, maybe it’s just me. I’m the forever hopeless -commitment phobe- romantic. Huh. Stay with me. I’ve seen so many failed relationships, bad eggs, and poor role models in this area of life that as I get older, I am realizing that NOBODY can figure this shit out. Bad eggs? Yes, guys who suck. Or smell rotten. Like a bad fart. Keep up. Circling back… Which -so fittingly- why my bff sent me this video; which quirkly, describes me PERFECTLY. It’s hilarious and describes exactly how I act with a dude… even when I totally know I could love the fucker for long time. Yes, I have it in me jerks. Quiet.
It’s funny when you meet the guy of your dreams how scary this relationship territory can be… and I use the phrase “guy of your dreams” loosely. No man is perfect. It be nice… but that’s going to be a lonely road ladies if you’re waiting for that knight in shining armor to ride in. But, what happens when you meet said superman and he totally gets your anxiety, has similar past expereinces with the opposite sex and has a little kink in his action to keep you interested? It’s too easy to just be the girl in that video. It’s much harder to honor your romantic feelings and fucking just go for it. Dammit. Yes girls. You’re screwed. *scans the room again* Well, we’re only four stories up… the jump from that window can’t be too tough. Fuck. I’m totally screwed. I opted to run; but, that didn’t work out either. This mother fucker had ESP or some shit and decided to put me in a chokehold. Yep, like a caveman. All twisted up and contortionist-ed… There was literally NO. WHERE. TO. RUN. FML. My bag I had brought for the weekend was fully packed. Ready for the fast break before sunrise. So there I was, like stretch armstrong, trapped in all his nuzzling glory with no escape. Plan deviated. No booby hatch. No flying the coup. Nothing. Just the rush of an anxiety-filled hottie squishied inside of the most comfortable queen-sized bed -with sweat-proof sheets- one could ever encounter. And here’s the frightening part… he knew it. Sexy bastard.
I’m a pretty open book. We know. Ya’ll get that by now. A little too open. Hush. But still, in dating, it seems, as I’ve been told numerous times… I’m “unreadable.” What? I love to read! I’m also, supposedly… Unpredictable. I’m not, I’m pretty damn boring. Creature of habit status. But put me in a relationship-worthy circumstance, with a beefy handsome dude that knows how to awaken the beast inside of me? …I’m running for the hills like a band of merry men after a french cow lands squarly on one their “horses.” Flying vaches over castle walls never gets old. (skip ahead to the 2min mark for your start point on the video;you’ll get it) Any man who can figure out how to get me into submission… KUDOS TO YOU! I’m a tough nut to crack. Apparently. Not really. I guess all it took was a little bedtime asphyxiation to show me what I wanted… And here I thought all I wanted was a peach-banana smoothie. Next to the trap door. With my weekender.
