Tag Archives: shitty boyfriends

the magnificent seven

21 Jul

it’s been exactly 564 days since I had a boyfriend. note that I use the term ‘boyfriend’ loosely…while the last one did possess the maturity a 12-year-old boy and, yes, he was a friend (mostly when he needed something), he bore little resemblance to what the average person would consider a boyfriend.

that is, unless their boyfriend sucks.

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last year’s break-up baggage sometimes felt too heavy for my little shoulders. however, one of my favorite coping strategies was imagining that said baggage was actually beautiful vintage steamer cases from Louis Vuitton…and all-of-a-sudden-like things felt better. hey, my dysfunction only deserves the best! after months of dragging around my new emotional steamer cases and swearing and crying and wishing heavy things would fall on said ex, i slowly noticed small cracks form in my emo fortress. at some point, i actually began to entertain dreams of a day where i might perhaps have a non-shitty boyfriend! you know, the kind that DOESN’T play drums/owe you money and DOES have a car.

a girl can dream.

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in my pursuit of happiness in this “post-crappy-boyfriend” phase, i’ve dated exactly seven men. i’m not sure if seven sounds trampy or lame…i’ll leave that up to you, my savvy reader. to be honest, i actually thought I’d be in double digits by now because Tinder and online dating was supposed to be my dating panacea. but while others swear by its ability to find Mr. Right (Now), for me it just stokes my very real stranger-danger issues. and despite the fact I’m still somewhat bitter that i still spend most nights alone as the shitty ex bypassed karma is chillaxing with his new fiancée who’s practically half my age, this new era actually hasn’t been that bad.

in fact, it’s been moderately magnificent.

as such, i like to refer to this cadre of man-meat gentlemen as “the magnificent seven”.

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and what can I tell you about my magnificent seven? if you’re keeping score, zero out of seven have made an honest woman out of me. one was a weird kisser. another had road rage issues. there was that one that was so attractive that it hurt my eyes. the last one was exceptionally trampy. all have moderate-to-next-level commitment issues. however, the magnificent seven have been remarkably helpful as i pick up the pieces of my black, charred, heart. over bowls of steaming ramen in little tokyo or a bottle(s) of pinot noir in my micro apartment, they were given a glimpse into my extremely fragile and oft bleak emotional landscape and yet actually chose to see me again once they escaped.  they allowed me to cry over my dying cat, a boob cancer scare, my stress-laden job, and George Clooney getting married to that impossibly-beautiful hussy. many of the magnificent seven were extraordinary at the booty call, and if my mom asks, they just came over for breakfast. they’ve texted me silly jokes. made me strong coffee. told me that I’m beautiful and sexy and funny…three things that i packed away in my aforementioned steamer cases only to be forgotten about until recently.

i’ve been fed – my stomach with delicious pizza, my heart with gentle-affirming words. i’ve been courted. i’ve been sought-after. i’ve been kissed on the nape of my neck. i’ve been gifted a curiously-large vibrating dildo. and in the process, i’ve started to feel like “me” again. not the gross “me” who’s puffy from crying and gave up on shaving more than twice a month. no, i’m talking about the sweet, smiling girl with the big heart who isn’t scared to use it again in the quest for love.

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so as i sit here enjoying cereal with a pinot grigio back for dinner (again), i can’t help but to be proud of myself. i’m halfway through 2015 with most of my dignity intact and a zest for life and dating and the idea that my Mr. Right might actually be out there.

so thank you, my magnificent seven for helping me get back on track. but mostly for the dildo because it can be cold and lonely in this big, bad world.

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