Dating Shouldn’t Feel Like a Mad Science Project (But It Does And I Don’t Get Why)

dating modern dating
Annie Gray

I am totally convinced that modern dating has completely mind-fucked the world. Why is it all so complicated? There’s enough on my mind when it comes to figuring out my own life, and honestly, trying to figure out men and dating has left me so terribly confused that sometimes it feels like my mind might explode. What are they thinking? What do they want? What did they actually mean with that text? They want me. They don’t want me. Who the fuck knows, ‘cause I sure as hell have no idea. Make a choice and commit to it. But you can’t keep pussy-footing around the truth.

‘Cause I’m exhausted and my brain hurts.

We over-analyze text messages. We try to find the hidden meaning in every simple sentence. We think that just because these guys have watched our Instagram stories and Snapchats that it actually means something real–like they miss us, they want us back, they can’t stop thinking about us. We think that their ambiguity is because they weren’t raised right, because chivalry is dead, because their best friends are fuck boys and now they are involved in that circle. We think that they haven’t fought for us because we are too smart and confident and sexy and they’re terrified of women like that because it makes them feel like less of a man. We are too intimidating. So we think that they are waiting for us to make all the moves. So do we? But then like, shouldn’t they be “the man” about it at the same time? Are they playing hard to get? But then like, am I not enough of a “chase” for them because I’ve heard that guys like girls like that to chase, so if you’re too available they won’t like it and scram. Right? Like, I want to show interest, but I also don’t want to be too much, but if you don’t show enough interest they’ll think you don’t like them and leave. I. Am. So. Confused.

But seriously, relationships and dating shouldn’t feel like a science. It shouldn’t feel like some mind-twisting theory that has a million and one possibilities. I’m so tired of trying to figuring it out, trying to find the truth, trying to discover what guys really mean. Why can’t everyone just say what they really want to say and leave the guessing out of it? I mean, aren’t we all aware that nobody is that busy? When you say you’re sooooo busy and that there is no end in sight because you’re soooo busy couldn’t you instead just say what you’re “trying” to say? I mean, are you really that busy? You’re not a neurosurgeon. You don’t work for NASA. And even if that was the case, you’d probably still have time for pussy–because when a man wants a woman and the opportunity is there, you’re not going to be an idiot and let that puss go (unless you’re just not into it at all and like to pretend that you barely have time to breathe). So just say it. Say it. Say it. Say it. Be as blunt as fucking possible. You will not hurt my feelings.

But. I. Am. Still. So. Confused.

I hear stories from friends, too, and it’s all so discouraging that we have to deal with all these mixed messages, with trying to read between the lines. But maybe it’s us who is making it this complicated also. It’s so easy to think that maybe these guys are watching our Instagram stories because they want to fuck us and they miss us, they love everything about us. When maybe they just watched our Instagram stories because they were taking a massive shit and had a few spare minutes to kill. It’s also so easy to think that maybe these guys didn’t text back (and it’s been five days) because they were too scared of how fast they were falling for us and their intense emotions scared them away, so they needed a break to cool down. When maybe they just didn’t give a shit because they wanted to jerk off for the fifth time that day or they felt like texting the you-can-put-it-anywhere-girl, instead. Who the hell knows. But, at the end of the day I can’t help but to think that if these guys actually wanted to be with me, they just would. [Enter mind-blowing explosion here.]

It’s all a mad fucking science. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

Brooklynite. Book junkie. Sarcasm at its best. On a constant quest for craft beers and live music.

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