Maybe I’m Crazy, But You’re An Asshole

@Thought Catalog
@Thought Catalog

Dating is a game and we’ve all played it. We learned the rules young, about the lines of scrimmage and the boundaries in which we could play the field: wait x amount of time after he responds to text back if he took y amount of time to reply to your text; if you asked him to hangout first last time, the ball is in his court now and he has to ask you; never text someone the day after you hookup, otherwise you look like a crazy bitch because it was just sex and nothing serious.

The parameters are quite simple, really. They’re clearcut and easy to follow. So if you break the rules, you should be disqualified. It’s only fair.

And if this is the case, consider me benched, because I break all of them.

You ignored my last text? I’ll text you again a few days later in hopes that maybe you just forgot to return it. We went on a date that went well and the very next day you’re talking about how many girls you have after you? I’m in tears like a jealous psycho. After all, it wasn’t a date. We were just hanging out and I must be insane to think it could have been something more, even though you kissed me and held my hand.

So yeah, I’m crazy. That much is clear. But before you put me away, let me ask you this:

Why is showing that you care and how you feel such a bad thing?

Why is it so wrong to let you know that I’m interested in you from the get go. Why is it so insane to ask you to hang out twice in a row if I want to see you? WHY can’t I pay for dinner without completely emasculating you? And why, for the love of God, can I respect you after we hookup, but to you I’m just a desperate slut that you never want to see again?

Maybe to a sane person, the answers to my inquiries are blatantly obvious, that if I want to date a dude, I need to suck it up and play the game. I need to let him chase me, make him wonder what I’m doing during the 18.5 hours it takes me to respond in between texts because I’m so ~mysterious~ and busy that I can’t take a second to say “nothing much, you?” Now that sounds really fucking normal and like a cool way to treat another human being.

Because really the game is all about power, and the power is with whoever cares less.

The worse we treat each other, the better we score. Simple as. But frankly, I’m sick of trying to learn the rules to a game I never signed up to play. I’m tired of running this marathon I never trained for. I’m exhausted of trying to hide my emotions and be so #chill you freeze. To be honest, I think I’m a compassionate, kind, caring, and emotional woman with a lot to offer. And if expressing these very things that make me who I am scare you off, then so be it. I may be crazy, but you’re just an asshole. TC mark

Molly Burford

Writer. Editor. Hufflepuff. Dog person.

Trace the scars life has left you. It will remind you that at one point, you fought for something. You believed.

“You are the only person who gets to decide if you are happy or not—do not put your happiness into the hands of other people. Do not make it contingent on their acceptance of you or their feelings for you. At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter if someone dislikes you or if someone doesn’t want to be with you. All that matters is that you are happy with the person you are becoming. All that matters is that you like yourself, that you are proud of what you are putting out into the world. You are in charge of your joy, of your worth. You get to be your own validation. Please don’t ever forget that.” — Bianca Sparacino

Excerpted from The Strength In Our Scars by Bianca Sparacino.

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