"Its always the same for me. Break up, break down. Drunk up, fool around. Meet one guy, then another, fuck around. Forget the one and only. Then after a few months of total emptiness start again to look for true love, desperately look everywhere and after two years of loneliness meet a new love and swear it is the one, until that one is gone as well. There's a moment in life where you can't recover any more from another break-up. And even if this person bugs you sixty percent of the time, well you still can't live without him. And even if he wakes you up every day by sneezing right in your face, well you love his sneezes more than anyone else's kisses."


Thats it. Right there. That quote, right above. I'm 23. Approaching 24 years old. I'm right smack dab in the middle of the "engagement season" of my life... completely single. I'm talking: show up to couples showers with my best guy friend that i bribed with a case of beer that he shot gunned before the event begins. Not so much as a single attachment, except for maybe my on going tug of war routine with my roommate's pet boxer. I'll be honest. I am the metaphorical fumble of the dating world. The dos (but mostly the donts), well... I've done them all. 


It started when I was 16. Gulf Shores, Alabama. His name was Lucas. Tall. Blonde hair, dark skin, white smile... and one flash of those pearly whites was all it took. After putting together a coalition of fellow friends to ride up and down the condo elevator until we ran into him... well, perhaps thats when I should have realized that my delusional dating experiences should have been written down, stored, and published in a text book and sold to a seventh grade teacher. Needless to say, at the end of the day, I got the guy - but two years later running into him the summer before my freshmen year in college changed things. 


I'm back from 6 months in Germany. I was wishfully hoping to trick an Italian Stallion into liking me enough to consider spending the rest of his life with me glued to the passenger seat off his super fast, tricked out European sports car. Clearly, the game plan was an epic fail and instead I've returned to:
a.) ex's who think its ok to use me as a safety net
b.) an old fling who gets super wasted and confesses his undying love for me
c.) an off shore worker who only wants me... when he's off shore
and finally:
d.) the dirty texter who sends full on pictures and yet, has a girlfriend.


What does all of this say about my own personal character? Well, if you'd ask the council from the Margarita Monday Meetings : I'm not trying out the right kind of guys.
If you asked my sister: they're all pieces of shit
and if you asked me... well, you'd just get the url to this blog.


So why keep a dating diary? Because friends, if you can't learn from your own mistakes, you might as well learn from someone else's. This will be my mildly private attempt to avoid the "Bridget Jones Syndrome" by trying out different facets of dating that the modern world now offers in hopes of being less pathetic.