I must be doing something wrong. Maybe if I shaved my head and actually talked to her once in a while… I apologize if it seems as though this is the only thing on my mind right now, but that’s because it is. Come on, admit it. We’ve all been there, these little escapades of our lives where we spend every waking moment dreaming of that special someone, relating anything and everything of what we encounter everyday to our unfathomable “likeness” towards our secret (or in some cases, not so secret) crushes. If I had dime for every time I sat in my room, wondering what she’s thinking, and hoping that maybe, just maybe, she was thinking about me, then I’d have about ten bucks…for just today. Oh well, I guess it doesn’t really matter, anymore.
I’d like to think that my story is no different then any other. I’d like to think that there are millions of people out there who just like me, watch from afar, and spend most of their time throughout the course of the day, dreaming about that which may never be. I’d like to think that there are other terribly scrawny guys who lift weights in the belief that they too, might actually one day become as ripped as Marcus the nark. I’d like to think that there are other guys who get so gosh-darned terrified about calling a girl, that they chicken out, and then recite in their minds totally lame excuses about why they didn’t call just to make themselves feel better. I’d also like to think that the girl of my aspirations will read this column, realize how crazy she is about me, and run off with me to Vegas… I’d like to think that.
But let’s be realistic folks. No matter how much class time we waste daydreaming, it doesn’t make a bit of difference. (except maybe in your test scores) No matter how many weights you lift, unless you’re on creatine, (and if you are, hook me up) you’re probably not getting the physique you desire. No matter how many good excuses there are, (and believe me, there are lots) there are still those of us who are still too chicken to make a phone call. And no matter how much I’d love to go to Vegas…well, you get the idea.
I remember back in the day, when girls had cooties. Ah…now that was the life! Your biggest concern was whether to watch Scooby-Doo or Transformers. (I always chose Transformers, although Scooby-Doo was a close second) Now my biggest interest is whether or not I’m acting like a total and complete buffoon in front of particular members of the opposite sex. (Well, that and Transformers)
Just recently I pondered the question: Is it better to try, and have that small fraction of hope, or is it better to simply give up and quit wasting time and energy? All my life I have never given up on anything. Not one, single, solitary thing. But at this point in time, the notion of just leaving all my girl problems behind seems rather appealing. Frankly, I’m sick of it. I’m sick of being called obsessive. I’m sick of being depressed. I’m sick of kicking myself in the pants because I can’t get up the guts to talk to a girl. I’m sick of wallowing in self-pity. I’m sick of publishing my personal feelings and problems in this column every issue. I’m sick of trying way too hard and getting no where. I’m sick of always trying to say the right thing, in hopes that somehow I’d come across the ultimate compliment and she’d be so flattered that naturally we’d live happily ever after. …Yeah, right Matt. This isn’t the movies dip wad, no matter how much you want it to be. I swear sometimes I am the biggest idiot. I’m sick of it…and I bet she is too.
I’m really gonna miss it though, to be honest. All the excitement, all the crazy stunts, the devious plots, and all the other things that came along with the pursuit of a relationship. (especially since I had so many great ideas that had yet to be executed) Fact of the matter is, I really liked chasing after her…I liked it a lot…maybe too much. I don’t really know. I don’t really know much of anything anymore. Guess I’m just a helpless romantic.
When I told a good friend of mine that I might be dropping the whole thing, she congratulated me. She thinks it’s better that I quit now and save myself a lot of heartache. Deep down I was sorta hoping she’d tell me that I shouldn’t give up and that I had to keep trying. But instead she gave me the thumbs up and said it’d be better for me. I’m not sure if it will be better for me or not, but for the sake of my sanity, and the sanity and happiness of the girl of my unwanted affections, I’d better quit now.
“A wise man and a fool went digging for buried treasure. They dug and dug until they found a beautiful and precious chest filled with gleaming, sparkling gems. Unfortunately, they had dug a hole so deep that they couldn’t get themselves and the treasure out of the hole. The fool, who desperately wanted the chest filled with jewels, said, ‘I know, we’ll dig ourselves out of this wretched ditch, and then the treasure will surely be ours.’ But the wise man said,
‘Nay, let us leave this treasure behind and pull ourselves out of this hole, for then we will surely live to discover treasures elsewhere,’.”
I’ve been trying to dig myself out of a ditch for almost eight months now. I think maybe it’s time I pulled myself out of the hole.
Thanks for reading as I vent all my frustrations. But you can all relax now, it’s all over. Stick a fork in me, I’m done. Next time I’ll write about something totally different and less depressing than my girl dilemmas. Maybe politics or the weather or something… Either way it’s going to be a totally different Bachelor’s corner. I guess there’s only one thing left to say: I give up. Man, that hurts…a lot. Anyway, see ‘ya around. Dang, I’m pathetic. I think I’ll go watch Transformers.