Tuesday, April 9, 2013

The Foreign Land of Man: A Timeline of Love

I remember when I first started "dating" my first "boyfriend". I air-quote that shit because we didn't really date, and he wasn't my boyfriend, but it was my first romantic experience, and it was a thing.

We spent most of our time hanging out in his parents' office, watching movies and making out. Then we started moving into his bedroom occasionally for more serious making out. He said that every time we stepped foot into his room, I hesitated and looked around in wonder like I'd never been there before.

Like it was a foreign land.

I still kind of feel that way when I enter a guy's room. Honestly, it doesn't happen very often. The last time was oh, say...almost a year ago. And that was like, just ONCE.

I really don't have a ton of manly experience. This last year of online dating increased it significantly, but to describe my history would be fairly brief.

A timeline follows behind the cut. Behind the cut, because my father reads this blog, and this is INAPPROPRIATE.*

*Moreso than everything else you write, Taylor? Good point.

Le Histoire Romantique et Sexual de Taylor
(I like to bastardize French.)

Age 8: First kiss. In a driveway with my best friend, enjoying popsicles and sunshine. Stuck my tongue out at a boy named Ben, because it was red and bright. When it was back in my mouth, I received a peck. Ew.

Age 12: First real kiss. In a hot tub in Hawaii with a boy who looked like Lance Bass. Since he was my favorite 'NSyncer, I was thrilled, but also totally nervous and not really ready for this nonsense. Multiple kisses. He was older, my sister was making friendly friends with his friend, and the whole thing was sufficiently awkward and too much.

Age 15: The aforementioned movie makeouts with the boy who'd go on to fuck up my sixteenth birthday and cheat on me at age 21. I have excellent taste in men. I remember when he walked into the theater on the first day of rehearsal for the fall play my sophomore year of high school. I thought to myself, "Sit by me, sit by me, sit by me..." And he did. I was gone. As the story goes, he was a senior, he had a girlfriend, he pursued me, I was young and dumb and apparently immoral, and so so so head over heels. But we were never an official couple, after months he went back to her. On my birthday.

Age 16: First real boyfriend. First love, I suppose, but even in the throws of it, young love at its supposed height, I always knew it wasn't "it". So true love, probably not. But he was my first everything that mattered, and to quoth Kelly Clarkson and her wise wisdom, because of him "I'll never stray too far from the sidewalk". Unfortunately. A private story indeed. But he was a good-hearted person, I think. Just a relationship that went longer than it should, when it wasn't that deep all-consuming love it should have been.

Age 18: We broke up a month into college. I had gone away to Seattle, he was back in Santa Barbara, and he apparently made the decision to "let me go". It was the right thing to do, though at the time I figured he just gave up.

Age 18, Part II: I rebounded with a nice Christian boy from Washington who had never touched a boob before mine. We didn't do much. He broke up with me after Christmas because he "didn't have time for anything serious", and I told him he'd never been my boyfriend and he didn't need to break up with me, which was the truth. We'd barely dated for a month. Anyway, good times.

Age 19: An unfortunate and confusing experience with an officer in the British Army in Northern Ireland that I haven't quite wrapped my head around.

Ages 19-21: A dry desert of the occasional frat makeout and sad, pathetic fanfic writing.

Age 21: Oh hey, that ass is back. He should really have a nickname...The Ass works. I was living in SB after college, we met up for a drink, and we were back together. I didn't love him like I did when I was in high school, I think that first experience with him was the purest love I've felt you know, all fresh and puppy-like as I was, and that's what I carried myself on. He was kind of a drugged out mess. Probably still is? But I think he loved me, or loved the idea of me, then you know...cheated on me. Then ended up marrying her. Dodged me a bullet. But before then, it was good...I got to order him around. But our relationship was super unhealthy, and I was unhealthy with him and it was just a big clusterfuck.

Ages 22-23: Moved to LA. First attempt at online dating led me to a previously mentioned guy who I dated briefly for a month, he wanted to be just friends 'cause I was a) too young and b) too fat (via word of mouth) and I was like "sounds good" so then we were BFF (with the occasional makeout benefits) for months, then he got a girlfriend, and that was that. Honestly, I had complicated feelings for him but they weren't romantic he was just the closest and only friend I had in LA, and my lifeline when I was drowning in sadness. He didn't know how depressed I was, because I never told him, and losing the person I spent almost every single day with was hard. It's not fair to have put that responsibility on him, neither of us handled the whole thing very well. Ah, life.

So, simultaneously, this was when I did meet and mess with my Manfriend in Santa Barbara. I liked him, I did/do, I just don't like him enough, and you can't force those things, I've learned. But he and I dated more than the aforementioned gentleman, a couple of months then I had to end it. Sure, I may have backslid a bit with the friends with benefits scenario, but it was long distance okay. Plus, my dog does't like him, so I couldn't marry him anyway.

Other than that, nada. Nothing. If you're counting, the sex tally is super low.

Age 24: Started the online dating thing again, chronicled here. The Ginger Saga. Since then, no feelings for anyone else, thus my palette has not been cleansed, and he keeps popping into my mind. It's infuriating. I'll be fine for weeks, then the littlest thing will go boom, thought. Ginger.

Age 25: Well, thus far a guy has had his phone die and forgotten he had plans with me, and...that's it. But since I'm not dating, that's you know...my own fault. I could be having bad online dates if I wanted to. Not currently on the agenda, but maybe soon. For now I'm dating me, and it's going well. We have sushi dates and yoga dates and cat snuggle dates. Romance. And I'm not going to be one of those people who freaks out about finding someone---if I do, I do, if I don't, I don't, and I'd rather be alone than with the wrong person, that much I've definitely learned.

So yeah, that's my story. Fascinating. Sooooo fascinating. Basically, a two and a half year relationship, a nine month relationship, peppered with a few months of casual dating here and there, a few makeouts here and there...but mostly pure and simple lonely chastity. Despite all my raunchy talk, I actually haven't banged all the dudes I would have liked. I think I know my crazy should not be unleashed via my vagina.


  1. The Ass is a perfect nickname. He might have been a mess at one point but he has "matured" and cleaned up his act for her. No smoking and no drugs for a couple years now. He rarely drinks now too. It's crazy what a guy will do for "the one". For better or worse, he's a completely different person. (The gif at the end of that section is pretty fitting too.)

    I love reading your blog. I've been thinking of starting one of my own. Keep up the inspiring work!


  2. Don't know if whoever wrote the above comment will see this but...

    1)Looks can be deceiving. Sure, he's "changed" but no one would go so far as to say he has "matured". Anyone who spends more than five minutes with them can see (and this is not only obvious to his friends and family) that he doesn't treat her well. He is,and always has been, extremely self centered.

    2) He doesn't deserve defending at this point. Whether he quit all of those things or not he is still the same selfish person he was and once again ruining a great thing that has come to him and hurting another great girl. His little family is actually pretty rad and he's a fool for treating "the one" that way.

    3) Taylor probably doesn't want to think about him or what he's been up to.

    1. Okay, I think I know who "R" is, but WHO ARE YOU?! The curiosity is killing Bentley!


  3. Let's just say I'm a fan. Wait, that sounded kinda stalkerish. I can't remember how I came across your blog but I did, pretty randomly. I realized who it was and after reading a few posts realized how much we have in common. I never would have thought. Maybe not outwardly but still a lot in common. I could really, really use a friend but I don't think you like me very much. Your writing gives me hope and comfort in dark times though. You might not feel it but you are inspiring. Your honesty is refreshing. So, thank you.

    Hope that didnt come off as creepy. I didn't want to leave you hanging.

    1. Oh, I AM HANGING.

      Now I'm more baffled. Perhaps R is not who I think they are. Perhaps you are. Who am I? ARE ANY OF US WHO WE THINK WE ARE?

      For the record, there are few people in my past I hate. Except that chick in middle school who said she wanted to burn her skirt 'cause I owned the same one. What a bitch.