Nine Ladies Dancing

Yo. I’m in a good mood. I want to play and make shit and write it out.

I recently got out of another relationship. I was dating a pretty cool chick that I liked quite a bit, and things didn’t work out. It’s all good. I have nothing but accolades to give and appreciation to show for the entire experience. Out of respect to her, we will leave it at that.

I’m now in that stage of reflecting on it all, almost from an objective standpoint. Some time passes and you get a chance to see it for what it was. In doing that, I’ve learned quite a bit, I’ve grown quite a bit, I’ve smiled quite a bit. I suppose it’s always up to you to learn things from stuff that happens to you.

In dating this girl, and breaking up, I’ve been looking back on the past 10 years of going steady. Today, I want to share some nuggets of wisdom that I’ve looted along the way. I hope you can relate.

Here are nine things, in no particular order, that nine anonymous girls have taught me through the mess that is The Game:

The Rebound Will Brick
Always. There is no replacing something that you just shared with another person. You can’t fill that void. I dated a girl right after my longest relationship to date, and it hit me pretty quick. Ain’t it a sick feeling, kissing someone and thinking of another? Fucking hell, that one tore me up. If you think you’re over it, you’re probably not. It’ll catch up to you.

They say the best way to get over someone is to get under someone. If they’re telling you that, I think you should ask yourself who you’re listening to. Rebounding is like eating junk food: it’s fun while it’s happening, but it’ll soon make you sick to your stomach. Eat healthy. Give it time.

Beauty Matters (for the First Date)
And after that, it’s mostly irrelevant. I dated a girl a few years back that was stupid gorgeous. Just stunning. This chick was just radiant. I was a dorky college kid who had never seen someone that pretty before. So when she told me she was interested, I did a backflip. I didn’t believe it. Then we went out to coffee.

I can’t remember a single damn thing we talked about. I was mostly shitting bricks because of how pretty this girl’s eyes were. Yet, that’s all there was. Sure, she was attractive, but you can only talk about her smile for so long. After that, when the crickets start chirping, and she’s twiddling her thumbs, the silence between you becomes a chainsaw. Attraction is the first step, absolutely. I just learned that day that it’s about 13% of the deal. You can adorn a cardboard canoe like the Taj Mahal. But will it float?

Talk the Talk, Walk the Talk
I once dated a chick that loved to talk about me. She told all her friends about me, she told her family, she told social media. She told me about me. Her words were abundant; an endless source of reassurance and praise. It was enchanting.

But the spell eventually wore off. I snapped out of it and realized that it was all talk. This chick could talk about me all day, but she couldn’t prove any of her praise. When the going got tough, her words thinned. She was quiet. The proof was in the pudding. Truly caring is tangible. Even the deaf are loud. If I’m falling off a bridge, last week’s text won’t be the arm that saves me. And this chick was last week’s text.

Sex is a Mirror
I’m such an advocate of having sex, making love, doing the nookie. I think it shows you so much about your relationship. It’s a physical pop quiz that reveals the emotional woodwork between two people.

I’m not going to kiss and tell. All I want to say is this: being naked with another reveals more than boobs and butts. If she’s a giver in bed, she’s probably one to surprise you with hockey tickets after work. If she’s a taker in bed, the odds are you’re doing most of the legwork in the relationship. If she cares about your pleasure, she cares about you. If you’re insecure about your naked body, you probably don’t trust the one who sees it. Sex, man. Sex is real.

You May Not Be Ready
I dated this girl that was 10000000% wifey material. This girl had it all: brains, beauty, a heart to give. She laughed at my jokes. She took me to dinner. She looked at me with love in her eyes. Before I met her, I would rant and rave about dating a good girl. I went to bed every night wishing I could meet a lady to take home to momma. Then she appeared, and I suddenly realized that I wasn’t even close to ready.

To quote Kanye: “see I could have me a good girl, and still be addicted to them hood rats.” I wasn’t done with the bad ones. I wasn’t actually ready to be treated right. To be loved. That shit is hard to accept when you’re still checking out tits at parties. I hadn’t yet satisfied that disgusting curiosity that is college-aged hormones. The truth is: you probably don’t want to meet the love of your life until you’ve fucked up and fucked around a little bit. Get it out of your system ASAP. Then you can think about something real. Shoutout to the good girl. I appreciate you to death.

Indifference Kills
I’ve endured love, I’ve endured heartbreak. It’s nice to see yourself on the other side, able to laugh it off and smile that it happened. This chick destroyed me, though, and she taught me the hardest lesson I’ve yet to learn: some people just don’t care much about you.

This was a huge shocker to me at the time. I was loved by so many, and this chick didn’t seem to notice. She didn’t make me feel like anything special. I was just another stranger in passing, a pebble lodged in the rubber sole of a boot. I suppose that dating the girl that didn’t care about me at all was the best and worst thing to happen to my ego: I thought I was strong, and she proved me feeble. I thought I knew my worth, and she dwindled me down to a penny. But being razed to the ground by someone who gives absolutely no fucks was enlightening. It allowed me to reinvent myself. It gave me space to weld the kinks in my armor. Fuck, that was a hurricane. But I’m the captain of a new vessel.

You Are My World,
And I am yours. I fell so deep in love with a girl, once upon a time. I made this girl my everything. She had her own ringtone in my phone. She was my confidant, my lover, my best friend, my Player Two, my pillow, my food, my air. This girl was the center of my universe.

Very quickly, this girl was my life. I stopped talking to friends. I stopped talking to my mother. I stopped doing anything alone. This love was my pulse. It was obsessive and over-the-top, a daily roller coaster of emotional extremes. I call this my Romeo and Juliet relationship. I thought it would never end, that I had found the one. But she moved away. And my world was empty. I felt annihilated. But hell, I love to look back on it. I learned that you can’t do that. People are fleeting. Life is always changing. When you put all your eggs in one basket, what happens when it’s unwoven? Keep your friends. Keep your hobbies. Keep your alone time. It’s so fucking important to keep you alive, too.

“Friend” is Half of Girlfriend
And she needs to be exactly half friend. This is everything. I once dated a girl that was too much of a friend. She talked to me from a distance. She encouraged me to check out other people. Our sexual energy was extinguished because she couldn’t see herself as a lover in my eyes. This came from a lack of confidence in her person.

On the flip side, I went out with a chick that couldn’t give me any advice at all. She wasn’t a rock. She wasn’t a friend. She was around for the gifts, for the sex, for the attention, but she vanished when I needed her most. See, I learned that we must wear a few different hats in a relationship. Sometimes you just need a friend, in the most innocent and pure sense of the word. I think it’s about half the time, give or take. I think I like that balance. This play on words does not apply with fiancé. Nobody is one half fian. I am being facetious.

It All Applies To Me, Too
I’ve been talking about these girls, these experiences I’ve had in dating people. I’ve been a little harsh, and maybe a little rude. But I want to hold myself to the same standard. Everything I’ve written, I want to apply to myself, too. It’s a duet, after all. There’s no doubt that I deserve what has happened to me, heartwarming and devastating and the in-between. These girls are so important to me. There’s so much to learn, to do, to live, to share, to experience with another. I’m infinitely grateful for everything that’s happened.

In the end, I just want to keep going. To keep dating. To keep skylarking. You can’t take it too seriously. If they break your heart, just be happy. I know it’s been said a billion times. But after all is said and done, you always have a choice. You can loathe your time with a person that you once loved. You can burn bridges and fuck around. You can keep a bitter lemon on your tongue inscribed with the initials of the devil herself. You can talk shit and drown her portrait in booze and blood.

You can do all these things. I guess I just don’t want to do them. I want to keep loving and keep giving as much as I can. I don’t want to hide or hate or belittle anyone. I just want to say thank you. I just want to keep learning and keep saying thank you. And keep saying “I love you” and keep hugging people goodbye. I think that dating, in a way, is just flirting with the future. We’re just people looking for a future. So if it’s not jiving, you gotta be cool. You gotta be happy it happened. You just gotta remember that it’s all good.

Cheers. I love you.


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