There’s a 99.56% chance that I have ADD. Here’s why:
- Can’t concentrate on one thing for long periods of time.
- Lord knows I can’t sit still.
- And if there is a shiny thing in the room then forget about it – You lost me the moment I saw a glimmer in the distance.
Thing is, my ADD applies to all parts of my life, including my love life.
I’m convinced that I can’t stay interested in the same boy for more than few months at the most. It’s often the case that more than one boy has caught my interest at any given time. I like variety. I like bouncing back and forth between different prospects.
It could be argued that, yes, I might just be indecisive and generally like the smörgåsbord that I have created for myself but I think that still can be played up to my Love ADD problem.
New, shiny men intrigue me (or special moments distract me). I jump, hop and skip from one crush to the next because apparently my adderall isn’t a strong enough dosage.
Like I said, Love ADD.
And that other guy glimmer is not only horribly distracting but also ruining any chances that I might have at being in a relationship. I can’t focus on one guy long enough to make a real relationship start because I constantly feel like there could be something better out there. I almost always have two guys at once that I’m interestested in.
Maybe it’s a rational thing, though. For instance, right now, I like one guy both on a physical and emotional level while I like another guy on a strictly emotional level. And I think that I do this to ensure that I can find the best of both worlds until I can find one that fits both worlds the best. It will be a long journey, I’m sure, but maybe I’m ensuring myself happiness.
But then again, I’m almost certain I’m just unable to sit with one man for more than a few weeks.
100% sure that I’ve got that one.
Recently, I worked backstage for a production of “Jekyll and Hyde: The Musical.” At rehearsal I watched as the male and female leads laughed nervously when their scenes lead up to a big kiss but it wasn’t until the week of the show that those nervous laughters turned into an actual on-stage kiss that could have anyone fooled into believing it was real. As I sat backstage during the show and the music swelled up I knew that they were fooling the audience once again by their fake romance. And that’s what got me thinking: when is a kiss just a kiss and when does it mean something more?
If actors can make a fake kiss appear real then it must be easy to make a real kiss mean nothing. So how can anyone determine when a kiss means nothing or means something? Was there a decoder ring that I was supposed to send in box tops to get as a child? Can I ask Miss Cleo? Who actually knows?
I’m going to say it: I love to get my mack on. I do. It’s always a good time. But then, after a while, it’s not always good because then that kiss ultimately leads to something more (sex) and this something more (sex) ultimately leads to something else (pregnancy, STI’s, or general confusions). I was generally confused (and thank God it was only that) after my kiss. What did I mean to this person? Did I mean anything? Was it going to happen again?
It’s such a simple gesture, kissing, but it has so many bigger implications. It is everything we want tied up in a single acton but, the problem is, everyone wants something different – is it just sex? is it feelings? No one knows. So we are stuck sorting out what we want and what we don’t want with a few puckered lips meeting at various times in our lives. It’s all a confusing mess and if kissing actually did get me pregnant every time I would be so fucked – who needs the emotions and a baby tacked on to go with it?
|Girls who like the taken guy? An avocado
My future career: Avocado
Photo from: http://factoidz.com
Lately the mess I’ve been sorting has been more muddled then ever before. I kissed people I shouldn’t have and then knowingly did it again. I’m questioning who I am and if my morales are intact. I want to know if I’m destined to be the other woman for the rest of my life. I’m also wondering if I ever will find someone that won’t make me into a mistress-y person. That’s all I want (as my blog followers know). I want to enjoy kissing without the other complications. I want to not sound like the ending of the Angry Vagina Monologue.
So what can I do about this? I can just stop being stupid. I can just keep kissing. And, hopefully, I can learn to figure out what is real and what is make believe.