The Adventures of a Romantic Cynic, Part I

typical shower time. probably singing amy winehouse. don't judge me.

Occasionally on random Saturday nights, I want to do nothing but stay home, drink a bottle of wine straight to the face, and do exactly what is going on in the picture. Alone. Gloriously all alone. For the past 8 months on other nights- like Sunday through Friday for example- I like to go out. When I go out, I tend to meet a lot of people because I'll talk to anyone and suffer from what I like to refer to as a chronic case of empathy. This is a simple way of saying that I have a hard time telling someone that I have no interest in talking to them. Ever. Don't worry, empathy isn't contagious, it's genetic.

Mostly the people I meet while on my adventures are guys. I won't dare call them all MEN because that would be generalizing and I was taught as a child never to generalize; it's just as deadly a sin as stereotyping. Through trial and error, I've discovered that there are upsides and downsides to meeting guys. One of the upsides being that I've gone on some awesome dates with a select few of them. The downside being that I've gone on some epically awful dates with more than a select few of them. There's also the in-between-side where I end up talking to someone solely because he's buying me a Guinness and I'm stuck having to pretend to be interested in the fact that he owns a long-haired Chiuaua and is seriously drinking a Barcardi and diet. No man should ever own up to either.

Over the past few months, I've dated some awesome guys and also, some really strange characters. They're all typically somewhat good looking because, obviously, a girl's gotta have some standards. But that is where I believe the similarities end, my friends.

There was The Activist; whether it be a bone to pick with the government or recycling, or even with the way I used sarcasm to make fun of him for being so intense, he always had a battle to fight. I lost that war. There was the guy who was so desensitized to women that he actually referred to the women that he slept with as 'accounts'. Well, we'll just refer to him Mr. Banks and know, that I no longer nor will I ever hold an account with his institution. There was also a cage-fighter. This particular one I liked; however, let's just say that he wasn't the stereotypical, hard outer shell with soft, sweet, gooey insides. He can be knighted Sir Sensitivity Chip. There was also a guy who I had a great text relationship with but then when it came time to put his money where his fingers texted, he was a scarecrow. Naturally, my best friend named him The Scarecrow.

Dating can be fun. It's even painful at times. I'm cynical by nature and have very little faith in people to start off with; I just have faith in myself and my judgement. Yet, those feelings that you get when you have a great conversation with someone, or when you reconnect with someone that you didn't even realize that you connected with to begin with, or even when someone completely catches you off guard, those are the feelings that I live for. Those feelings are what make the epic failures and really bad decisions all worth it. Those knots in your stomach (and not the gas) are what make it easy to laugh at the train wrecks and appreciate the people that have no idea what life is all about.

Those feelings, as amazing as they are, are what guarantee that there will be a part II to this post.