The Most Complicated Non-Relationship, ever.

There are approximately 1,056 different ways to reject someone without actually having to say “I don’t like you.” I am responsible for just like half of those. Putting yourself out there in that capacity, be it asking someone out on a date, applying for a job, or simply striking up a conversation with a stranger is number three on the most stressful things you will ever do in life. Two is divorce, and one is trying to get a driver’s license from the state of California. Reference to a previous blog, whaaaat!

The problem is, however, how do you tell the difference between when someone is being honest, and when someone is just trying to ditch you? Like when someone tells you that they like you, but don’t want to date you because of their career. Who else gets asked out and dumped in the same night? Just me. It’s like, okay, so you care about me so much that you don’t want to hurt me? Or you don’t care about me enough to put forth the effort. Effort does suck, in his defense.

Television, movies, and the romance section of any given bookstore will tell anyone that dating is fun. It’s exciting and new and awesome. Well, I’m almost positive that in the metaphorical bookstore of my life, they got the labels for “romance” and “science fiction/fantasy” mixed up, because it’s not easy, it’s not really fun, and sure, it’s exciting - in a terrible, awkward way.

Because when it comes to dating, my life is this.

Okay then, this is going well. We’re on the same page, no games. Look at us, all cute and flirty and off-book after only a month of rehearsals, just like the really good actors.  Wait a minute, I think my script was missing a page...

Oh, come ON. You’ve got to be kidding me. What the hell is even in Latvia?

“you’re really smart, and pretty, and confident. You’re the real deal. Just what I’ve been looking for. Except you know, Latvia 4evarrrr”

Okay, so I’m smart and pretty, and you forgot hilarious, but whatever. I can deal. Just fit it in somewhere else. But apparently I’m not smart or pretty ENOUGH to be cooler than Latvia. So, just for my knowledge of where this ridiculous bar for who is smart/pretty/awesome enough to actually DATE is set, what exactly are the standards? Are you looking for Ms. ActuallyWikipedia to walk into the bar any time soon? Cause I’m pretty sure that the girl who knows everything that Wikipedia knows doesn’t look like Christina Hendricks.

She looks more like this.

So that’s your girl I guess. And not to be a buzz kill, but I don’t know that Latvia even has Wikipedia. I mean, they weren’t even invited to play in the World Cup. That’s pretty embarrassing. But seriously, for real, have a freaking blast. I’m over it. I hope you get eaten by some kind of Latvian mountain lion. It sounds like you’re going to be really successful and happy in Latvia.

What’s really frustrating about all of this isn’t that I totally got major-leagued by some stupid Eastern European country that isn’t considered worldly enough for soccer, but it’s that I don’t even get a say in the matter. He’s all, I like you, you’re great, but you know, Latvia! And that’s it. Great. Well, Latvia might be exotic and exciting, but has LATVIA seen every episode of Friends enough times to quote entire scenes? NO. Does Latvia high-five you for not scratching on the eightball? NO. Do you even know anything about Latvia? I bet if you were dating Ms. ActuallyWikipedia she could just tell you, but you’d have to find restaurants with high vaulted ceilings in order to accommodate her ENORMOUS SKULL.

And as if that wasn't annoying enough, the fact is that there’s still six months left before he can even go to Latvia, not to mention the time it will take to acquire work visas and you know, other legal documents, because no matter what the liberal hemp-wearing lunatics on the University Avenue bridge over the I-80E tell you – we are not actually considered citizens of Earth. So he's telling me that he doesn't want to go out on a single date because he might go to Latvia in more than half a year, and I'm getting the impression that no matter what clothes I think I'm putting on, I walk into the room wearing this:

What I’m saying is, “hey, how have you been?” but what he’s hearing is, “unless you plan on being three blocks away from me for the next decade of your life, I’m out.” Go to Latvia if you want to. Go to Portland or Norfolk or the MOON if that’s what you really want to do with your life. But if you’re not going like, tomorrow, then hey, maybe we can get coffee. Just a thought. Because we might go get coffee, and find out that you’re an avid Creed fan, and then I’ll make up some crap about being super busy and maybe getting deported back to Texas, something about a bloody brick through a DMV window, and that will be that. The point is, at least we’ll know. We’ll know that you have terrible taste in music. And I will never look at you without hearing “With arms wide opeeeeeeen” looping through my brain. That would explain the cringing, though. 

I think the real issue at hand is everyone innate fear of getting close to someone, and inevitably getting hurt if and when they leave. From someone who's done a lot of leaving, I know how much it sucks to walk away from people you care about, not knowing when you'll see them again. And even knowing that I wouldn't be able to spend every single day of my life with these people, never once have I regretted knowing them in the capacity that I do. If I turned my back on every new person I met, on the off chance that I might one day live in another city, I'd be really lonely, and super bored. Not to mention how completely devoid of blog topics I'd be. 

But at the same time, I don't plan on attempting to force anyone into risks they are clearly not ready to take, because that's equally stupid. I don't make a habit of chasing people down, and for as often as I joke about it, I would never actually grab someone square by the shoulders and yell 'LOVE ME!' in his face. If for no other reason that how much it doesn't work. 

I have a problem with fix-it relationships, and the people who know me best will be the first to throw down the red flag and tell me to make a run for it. 

It's like my fabulous friend Wies said, "Oh no, Eleanor. Do you need a new project? Try knitting."