I’d Like to File a Missing Persons Report

You guys, he’s gone. I don’t know where he is I don’t have any of his friend’s phone numbers and he’s not on Facebook. What if, like, something serious happened to him, y’know? And I didn’t know about it? Oh my god, I’d be, like, the worst girlfriend ever. But seriously, it’s been two weeks and I have no idea where he is. I need more wine.

I spend a lot of time protecting myself. I like to think that my anger takes the shape of a cute little porcupine in a red cape who comes to my rescue every time my soft, squishy, beating heart might be exposed and make me look vulnerable. She sounds a lot like Louise from ‘Bob’s Burgers’. She’s a yeller. I talk about this a lot in therapy. It’s one of the reasons that I do comedy. It’s the perfect defense mechanism that lets you talk about serious stuff without sitting across from one of your friends at a coffee shop, crying and making them really uncomfortable. But I’ve done that too. Sorry friend I made feel uncomfortable, I know that was messy and really ugly, but your makeup looked so good. Feelings are real things, you guys. It’s just that being vulnerable is one of my least favorite. I refrain from opening myself to people and handing them my insides. Most of the time I feel like it’s just easier to take care of things myself. So I do.

I don’t fall in to relationships very easily because of this, too. I’m usually waiting for that moment when I’m about to get fucked over. And when I do, I always say, “You’re better off alone.” Ugh. I need more wine. I’m so gross and whiny. But I’m jealous of people who can open up and do. They open themselves over and over again no matter what happened the last time. Me? I’m like, “Let’s talk about how I wanted to fucking murder so and so…”. I’m hyper guarded and when this comes up, people usually want to know, “Who broke you the last time?” Or, geez. Pause. Just ‘geez’.

Recently I’ve been dating someone. I can’t say that it’s going to be anything permanent, but it’s going well despite a lot of the conversations we had to have very early on. I struggle with anxiety and depression and he understood that, so I thought, on some level, I had found someone who was a kindred spirit and not afraid of me because I’m on anti-depressants. I have found it difficult to explain this to people that haven’t experienced that kind of thing, so having someone that already gets it really took care of a lot. This has been going on for a couple months and some weeks. We are calling each other boyfriend/girlfriend. He’s talked to me about moving in together “I could totally live with you”. He’s picked me up from the airport “It’s a nice thing to do.” He’s into me “I’m not going to say it until you do.” He is dedicated to breaking down my walls “I don’t know what kind of skinny jean wearing douchebags you’ve dated in the past, but geez.” Just ‘geez’. I like(d) him.

I call a friend, fucking terrified about what was happening to me and she told me that everything was going to be ok, he was just poking at my heart in a way that it hadn’t been for a long, long time. Basically an eternity. We have jet packs now. Breathed a sigh of relief and assured myself that I would take things day by day. One thing I was missing, though, was that giddy, stupid, OMFuckingG he’s so totally great and I’m so into this. What was holding me back? Was I really struggling this much to just let it all hang out? Maybe I’m more of a slow burn kind of girl, but I also really started to trust him.

Here’s the thing: something might’ve happened. It’s totally possible. If it did, though, I think I would’ve heard about it. I haven’t heard a missing person’s report, either, but he’s missing. Like seriously. Dropped off the face of the planet. DID HE GET ABDUCTED BY A PACK OF WOLVES IN THE NIGHT? DID HE GET HIRED TO GO ON A SPECIAL, TOP SECRET MISSION TO FIGHT SOMALIAN PIRATES AND COULDN’T TELL ANYONE OR LEAVE A NOTE? BECAUSE THESE ARE LITERALLY THE ONLY TWO THINGS I CAN THINK OF. But seriously guys I have no clue and I love mysteries so this is all very frustrating. There have been no responses to phone messages or texts. Are we breaking up? I have no idea because I haven’t talked to him. Are we still together? I don’t know! Should I keep looking at one bedroom apartments in Bensonhurst with a washer and dryer and move in, get a dog and wait for him? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Again?

It should come as no surprise to anyone that this happens a lot. One guy I dated made me feel like I was doing all the driving in the relationship, so I handed him the keys to the car and as far as I knew he crashed the car and ended up naked in a ditch somewhere outside of Florida. His body was never recovered and a missing persons report was never filed, but then I saw him at a Memorial Day BBQ so I guess he’s fine now.

Everyone, this is not ok. Guys. Gals. No one should be doing this. Even if using your words to say that you’re “just not interested.” No one can argue with you. Seriously. It usually ends up being more of a “thanks for telling me” kind of thing.  And what in God’s name makes you think that it’s easier to just not respond? We are fucking grownups you guys, and I don’t want to put out a mother fucking Amber Alert every time one of you goes missing. That would be abusing who it’s actually for. Children. It’s actually for children. For something serious. Not for you not answering a text message. This is breaking people. Literally breaking them down. It’s not a respectful way to treat people. It’s cowardly and it makes people go banana phone. Ring! Ring! Hello? No one loves you CLICK. Stop pranking me! Instead of pushing people deeper and deeper into their insecurities like being vulnerable and asking for help, FOR EXAMPLE, why don’t you just tell me what you would like to say. Because if you don’t, I will find you in 6 years for our wedding. Our dog, Ghost, is the ring bearer. I named him after you.

I’d Like to File a Missing Persons Report

One is the Loneliest Number…Wait. What?

You know that feeling when you’ve been single for, like, three years, haven’t had sex for 6 months (but who’s counting?), so you start to review past “potentials”? Reviewing the Rolodex. Going through text messages, emails, Gchats, you wonder if you fucked it up with one of these people along the way. Telling yourself, “They were funny, right? I can’t remember why I lost interest.” Pausing to think that maybe you didn’t give them enough of a chance to prove themselves as dateable material or, at the very, very least, someone that you could just hook up with from time to time but based on your availability and needs. Not theirs. And to get jazzed about the hook up even though you don’t really talk all that often and he has never taken you to that dinner that he said he was going to at that really cute restaurant in your neighborhood that you’d like to go to more often but have only gone once and that was for your birthday because your friends took you. They’re married. So you can’t sleep with them. Unless you’re into that. Which I’m not, really. Yet! Whenever he gets in touch and you do end up sleeping together it’s actually pretty good (reliable), not like that other guy that you slept with a few times over the summer who, the last time (and I mean LAST), kept trying to sex up the Sahara Desert that was between your legs (you’re looking for an oasis, buddy, that’s not there) because he acted like a jerk the night before so you found yourself unable to get it up for him at all. Yes. I equated that entire experience with a boner, or an erection if my mom ever reads this. She expects me to use proper words for things and would appreciate it if I stopped being so crass because I’m a beautiful, naturally funny woman who shouldn’t have to try that hard to get people’s attention. I’m getting bored, though. How many times am I going to listen to someone say that they’re going to do something that they never actually do? It becomes easy to adopt a completely non-chalant attitude (watch out guys, I’m on to you) and see it as the hook up. And the hook up only. Nothing more. That’s not fulfilling. I’m not sure when it was, but it’s definitely not now.

We find ourselves “alone” for a period of time, and start to doubt decisions that we’ve made. But here’s the thing: If we liked them then, then chances are we’d still be interested and something would have probably happened by now. Going back now and wondering if you made some mistake is a waste of time, looks desperate (Hi, remember that you liked me? I’m still pretty sure I don’t like you, but let’s meet for drinks so you can boost my ego, and remind myself that I’m cute and you still aren’t interesting to me), and, frankly, is some high school bullshit that too many people I know haven’t grown out of.  I’m not innocent! I’ve called “Not take you to dinner” guy 8 times in one night before in a drunken stupor walking by his apartment. Desperate much? Definitely. On my terms? Obviously not.

But. Is being alone really all that bad? I see people in relationships around me, and truth be told, they don’t look happy. I thought that’s what the whole point was! Don’t get me wrong; I know that relationships are not all rainbows, butterflies, and warm gentle breezes that caress your face and smell like Honeysuckle. I’ve been in one before (yes, one) and that’s not how it always was. There were discussions and disagreements, they happened. They had to. Maybe this is a side effect of growing up and establishing boundaries. I’m getting better at knowing that decisions I’ve made in the past are still good decisions. And I’m proud of them. Not all of them, but most of them (Amanda, put your phone away. He’s not going to answer your text. It’s 4am).  

This need that we feel to get attention is an honest one. Who doesn’t like it? No one I know. Literally. No one. That guy over there? Pretty sure he loves it too. What matters is getting it from people that you want it from. Everybody and anybody isn’t somebody. Is that guy ever going to take me to dinner? Probably not. It’s been 3 years and it still hasn’t happened. Am I ignoring his sporadic text messages? Yes. Is it hard? Yes. Am I tired of waking up with Sharpie all over my lips because of the drawing of a man’s face I have on my pillow? Yes. If something worthwhile were to have happened with any of these past potentials, it would’ve happened by now. Right? I’ll wait. 

One is the Loneliest Number…Wait. What?