You Cray. We cray.

I’m going to step on toes, most of them mine. Here’s the deal, lovelies… We’re crazy. It’s true. You know it and if you disagree you’re probably still in Stage One: denial. Stay tuned I’ll start shining the flash light in the dark un-talked about places in the backwoods of relationships. Hear me out, if I guy tries to call us out, we’ll go to bat for each other. Girls aren’t crazy, guys are dumb. But, if it’s just us sitting around a tub of ice cream, girl, you KNOW that to which what I am speaking of.


Maybe not, though. Maybe you’re different than me. Let’s try on a couple scenarios from my personal memory bank and see where you rank on the rector scale’o’needy.


You’re dating a boy. Friday is here. You know he’s free. You know, most likely, he plans on spending it with you. There you sit in front of your computer screen at work dreaming up all the fun romantic things he could plan, or ways he could surprise you. The time clock runs out and now you’re at home awaiting his phone call. Maybe you wait for a while, maybe not for long. But you’ve made up your mind he needs to be the one to call. Right? If he wants it, he’ll call. If you have to call him, you’re admitting you like him more. No lady likes looking in the mirror and seeing the aggressor starring back at her. No thank you. I’ll just wait. I’ll walk around with the phone to my forehead waiting for his call. I’ll check my service often. I might even dial out once or twice to make sure everything is ship shape and running smoothly. But I definitely don’t stare at the phone begging it to ring. Okay, yes. Maybe I do.


The crazy starts to inch its way in.


He calls. He small talks. He asks you about your day, but you’ve already set up this invisible standard for him to meet. So you mistakenly look right over his sweet concern. You can almost see red, but you try to reel it in. I’m breezy.


He talks more and about nothing, at least nothing concerning your upcoming dinner by the sea and dessert painted sunset sky.


You are, at this point, convinced he has no interest in you. He doesn’t even like you. You are wasting your time. He is just going to end up breaking your heart somewhere down the road, probably like the last guy. And maybe you’ve not only stuck a sword in it, but twist it a little with the notion that you can surely do better.


Keep in mind, boyfriend has no idea what is going down in that precious, yet psychotic head of yours. His flight deck shows all signs are green for take off. Skies are blue and the air smells sweet. You, on the other hand, have rather quickly radioed ground control and informed them of the raised terror alert. He has gone from blue (guarded) to orange (high) in a few short seconds. Unfortunately for this pilot, he is about to have the wind removed from his under his wings and he has absolutely no idea.


Now this pretend scenario could go many ways. All of them will merit fairly the same crazed response, but for the sake of personal recognition I’ll paint a few canvases.


“Hey, I think some of us guys are going to see a baseball game.” This could even be followed by an invitation extended for you to come along, but you will have NONE of it. He’s made his decision. Clearly his friends are more important than you.


“I can’t wait to see you. What do you want to do tonight?” He is a jerk and he NEVER plans anything. You are completely carrying the weight of this relationship on your shoulders and he couldn’t care less.


“I have a paper to write before Monday and I haven’t started it.” How dare he not prioritize his life better? Now he is wasting your time. This relationship is clearly and hugely a waste of your time.


“Want to grab some Moe’s and then see a movie?” You love burritos and you should be ecstatic the kid even planned something, but will you appreciate it? Nope. Because earlier today you put all your betting chips in the romantic basket and this falls short, way short.



You feel the insecurity rise up in your throat. You see the whole thing play out like a movie, yet you are powerless to hit eject, pause, rewind… anything. It proceeds before you like a smoke billowing locomotive with faulty brakes.


You handed him an imaginary (to him) pop quiz and he failed. Nonetheless very soon after one of the above responses make it out of his mouth he’s met with a dart right to his temple. He shakes it off, dazed and confused by it all, he continues on in oblivion. You hurl another dart, angry that the first one didn’t do the trick. This one hits him between the eyes and he realizes, he is clueless as to why, but he knows he made a wrong turn somewhere. The good ones will desperately try to swerve out of the oncoming traffic, understanding this can only lead to a fatality. His.


But, none of these are you, right? Ha. I suspect the men we date are on their feet at this point recalling a painful, yet similar occurrence they themselves have experienced.


I don’t know what form of mud you’ll drag him through, but it never ends pretty.


Or what about the time you got upset because he plopped down on the loveseat before the movie started, instead of the couch where you’d both fit more comfortably? Instead of pointing him in the direction of the couch, or cuddling up to him on the love seat… you stomp your feet all the way to the furthest seat.


Or how about when he’s knee deep in a poker game with friends and instead of being dealt in, or playing a supporting role you sit in another room pouting waiting impatiently for him to realize you’re missing.


I could write of these all day. I’ve lived in this city, even purchased a home here. It’s a little town I like to call “insecture”. Yep. I made that up. It’s a cross between insecure and immature and it was invented in my head at approximately 2am, for this I apologize.


This multi-case recollection has gotten wordy. The goal tonight was to meet you where you are… or in my case ‘was’, and hope never to be again. I write, if for nothing else, so that someone can maybe hopefully learn from my stupor. I have had more than my share of relationship blunders. I intend to share every painful, silly and embarrassing one with you. Will you please see me for the schmuck I was and intensely inspire to be different? I know this writing venture will be a guide I hope to look to and remember in my next relationship, I have the potential to discern the crazy. Hope is not lost.


Tonight, we recognize. Tomorrow, we defeat.


Goodnight, my beautiful crazies.


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