Perhaps It Was The Noid…

For one thousand, one hundred and ninety three days, I have been in a relationship with a man, whom I will call “Noah” to protect his anonymity. “Noah” is, to my understanding, the verifiably sexiest man that has ever walked upon the Earth for all the of the entirety of forever. My mind has categorized this information under “Inarguable Facts”. “Noah” could wear a dirty, burlap sack that was saturated with the the same odor that an unfriendly, bath-hating ferret has after it’s been in the waist band of a very large man as he ran on a treadmill the week or two that his bathroom was being renovated and didn’t have access to a shower… and I’d still find him sexy. It is ludicrous. Unreasonable. Illogical. It’s stupid. “Why is it stupid, Odd Petunia?” you may ask. “Shouldn’t you be that into your partner?” You wonder….

My dear Friend, the very short answer to that is, “Yes, you should be that into your partner.”

BUT…

There’s always a ‘but’, isn’t there?

There are factors that I truly believe any person with any amount of sanity or just base level brain activity whatsoever would observe and choose to remove themselves from a situation because of. But me? Nahhhh….. Bring on the red flags, I’ll slalom through them bitches. There are times, quite often, that I rather genuinely wish that I could take those factors and do something with them, like, put them into consideration and allow them to influence my decisions and such. However, if I were to suddenly operate that way, I wouldn’t need my therapist anymore and what on EARTH would I possibly do with the money I don’t have to spend on therapy anymore? It seems like a fiscal irresponsibility, you know?

I have absolutely no idea why I overshared all of this. Possibly because it’s now a common occurence that I am home, with my little family, but somehow feel as if I am truly alone on the most isolated and desolate of the planets in our solar system, devoid of life, air and atmosphere. Maybe I am seeking for someone just so listen and tell me, “I hear you, it’ll be okay.” Or some shit like that.

Because my problems are quite minute in comparison with the complexity of others’. So that should matter.

And now, to bed, to have a back turned to me so that I may lie awake for hours and hours to come staring at the empty darkness around me. Huzzah.

<Insert my thought train derailing right about here because funny stuff. We have a team working on re-railing the drerailment and will be back to the regularly scheduled programming shortly. Maybe.>

So he will continue to dance around me in his foul-smelling burlap with all of his obvious and worsening red flags intact, and I will continue to look at him as if the source of the actual sunshine was his ass.