Over the years, I know that I have become bitter and cynical. I don’t care so much about the plight of man, because all I can seem to focus on is the fact that 95% of the people I encounter are blatently stupid, or otherwise ignorant to their stupidity (only making it worse) making me want to gouge my own eyes out and shove sharp objects in my ears to relieve myself of the hassle of listening to seeing these stupid people in action. The other 5% is spread out amongst those I actually give a shit about (~1%) and those who make me want to go postal on the world (the remaining 4%). I am generally tired, and pissed off all the time. Or at least bitching about those things that piss me off, almost all of the time.

I’m not always a very fun or happy person to be around. Which means I’m not always a fun or happy person to be in a relationship with either. The failure of my past relationships have not always been the fault of the guy… sometimes (and I mean rarely) it was my own fault (kidding about the rarely part).

I remember my early relationships, and I remember being so very carefree and light-hearted. I remember feeling as though the world were at my fingertips, at my disposal, and that there was nothing I couldn’t accomplish. I also remember the devastation that the end of those early relationships caused, and somehow realizing that the world didn’t end when the relationship ended… and my life didn’t end now that some boy was out of it.

As the years went, and relationships came and went, I started to become less enthusiastic… and less devastated. Some relationships were a chore. Others were merely adventures. There were those rare ones that I hoped would turn into the eventual “white fence with 2.5 kids” situation. None of them ever did. One thing was consistent… they never lasted.

The longest relationship I had ever had was the one prior to the boy, or… the ex. It was an off-and-on thing, sure, but even if you put all of the “on” parts together, it was still the longest I had ever been with someone. The desire to have something work, especially when regarding a relationship, seems to get stronger as you get older. At least it has been that way for me. I don’t want to mess around with little boys who just want to get laid. I had my fair share of fun at one point or another, and I’m done. I’m not going to waste my life with that sort of thing.

I also realized a few things over the course of the last few years. You can’t make a person change, even if it’s for the betterment of them, and everyone else. You can’t forcibly bottle everything inside and think the explosion after the fact is okay. I want to have kids, and being with someone who doesn’t want more can very much be a waste of time and effort, as you will never see eye to eye on the topic. Wanting to get married is also something similar… I’m not going to waste my time or life with someone who doesn’t want to get married to me… ever. I also have learned, that I am a jaded and bitter old woman. While I’m attracted to the cute boy, I don’t want to keep the cute boy (who’s too stupid to create a full sentence without some coaxing) around for long… if ever, for that matter.

Despite the way things have been for me in the relationship department, I’ve been… happy with this one. The distance has probably helped to ensure that we’ll make it to the next weekend. We’re definitely given the opportunity to miss the other for the majority of the week. Absense can make the heart grow fonder, but in the case of me and the boy, the extreme absense also make us cranky, pissy, and slightly paranoid. He sometimes imagines that I’m in a “bad mood” even when I’m not. I sometimes imagine that he’s found other more important things, when that’s not necessarily the case.

Through all of it we seem to have a good thing going. He can be very patient with me, and just pointing out that I’m being slightly irrational can quickly bring me back down to earth and out of my “I hate the world and I want everyone to die” moods.

I didn’t think I could ever miss someone so completely that I feel empty when he’s not around. The sadness of having to sleep alone is almost unbearable. Whenever I get home, I hope that he’ll be there, so we can go find some other small adventure, motorcycle ride, drive anywhere… it doesn’t matter. I didn’t think I’d ever miss someone the way I miss him when he has to leave and go home… but I feel like I’m in high school, all over again.