Dating Douches Syndrome

Cherry and I were discussing the fear we feel when a new prospect enters the picture. Words like "respect," "romantic," and "thoughtful," were being said, at which point I had to pull out my Webster's to determine the meaning of such words in this context. No, this isn't a "chivalry is so dead," rant. I've had the pleasure of meeting the great gentlemen that are blessed to be with both of my sisters and a few of my girlfriends. Rather, this is a "why am I such an idiot?" rant. 

Why is that typically normal gestures end up being red-flags to me? Negative, degrading thoughts are at the very least crossing my mind, but more than likely being discussed with my mom or a girlfriend. Oh my gosh, he said I'm beautiful and was genuine about it? What the fuck is wrong with him? Oh, a good morning text, REALLY? Did his parents beat him senseless as a child? He's asking my girlfriend about me, not to find out if I'll put out but to see if I'm like a good person. He's clearly a devil! Holy balls, he didn't even TRY to have sex with me....does he have a small penis? Does he even have a penis? What's he trying to get out of this? 

I'm not sure who reads these posts aside from my mom (because she's obviously forced to do so), so it's hard to determine the general reaction to these thoughts. Because most of my friends are girls or gays, they can relate. What I can't get over is, why is it accepted as "normal," for people to feel this way? I'm not going to bitch about the nightmare that is my dating and relationship history. Wah wah, poor me. All I'm saying is that the aftermath of a bad breakup, toxic relationship, or sketchy dates should be recognized as potentially damaging to our well-being. 

Because we're both psychology-nerds, my evening was spent texting Cherry, trying to think of a catchy name for this type of dating related PTSD. What I admire in her though, is something I completely lack. No matter how many times she's been hurt, Cherry always goes into a date, a Tinder swipe, a night out in River North with an open and optimistic mind. Cherry is just one of too many amazing friends that I've seen truly suffer due to the actions of a terrible person. Let me be completely clear: I've been on both sides of this before, both the heart-broken mess that drops to a weight below one hundred pounds due to depression as well as the selfish and hurtful person that makes stupid mistakes that continue to haunt my brain from time to time. Neither position is one that I ever want to find myself in, nor those that I care about. 

So I guess the question is, what can I do about it? Do I continue on this neurotic path? I can keep my fingers crossed that the DSM-IV includes a diagnosis of Dating Douches Syndrome with the treatment recommendations being new stilettos, drinks with girlfriends and dancing at a gay club. I'm certainly aware that thinking every man that is somewhat respectful toward me wants to cut me up into fifteen mason jars and store me on a shelf in the basement doesn't typically cross one's mind in a time of gratitude. Rather than butterflies the minute I (gasp!) agree to go on a date, I feel as though that I'm sealing my fate to be turned into a skinsuit. Instead, I think I need a very intense reality check and maybe, just maaaaaybe, next time I'll opt for the giddies instead of the crazies and see how it goes.

Year in Review

Of course I have a Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and everything else under the sun and I've been looking at the cliche New Year's resolution statuses, Instagrammed photos of Christmas and New Year's engagements, and tweets of how irritating the previous two items are to most viewers. So, naturally, when I logged onto Facebook on an actual computer and saw the "2013 Year in Review," I had to go for it. Who can turn down the option to view your top 20 posts from 2013? Well, almost anyone, but since I have a cocktail in my hand to chase away my raspy man voice and my slumber party buddies ready for a laugh, I decided to go for it. The result?

MY YEAR SUCKED! Who would have thought? In 52 weeks, I did the following:
- Changed the direction of my career. Twice. 
- Ended a two year relationship and actually enjoyed the whole "being single" thing. 
- Moved to Chicago. Found my first apartment. Experienced public transportation and aggressive homelessness for the first time.
- Traveled to Mexico, Vegas, and Polk (It's in Nebraska, duh) for the first time. 
- Cut ties with a lot of friends, rekindled with some old ones, and made a ton of new friends (okay, maybe just a couple).
- Found some new hobbies such as golf, whiskey, and trying to cook. 

Clearly, I'm pretty damn cool. Did my Facebook reflect this? Definitely not.  What did I get? Hideous Instagrammed #TBT photos of me from 2006, status updates tagging me in places that I would prefer no one know that I'm associated with (Dominick's for the fourth time in two days), uploaded photos with people I'm no longer associated with, and tweets full of embarrassing things that I've "supposedly" said (okay, I did).

After reading my inaccurate summary of 2013, I told my work husband that it was depressing and underwhelming. Then I decided that what would be more bleak than what was offered to me as my "highlights," is a Facebook profile that actually was full of my biggest moments. My favorite moments of 2013 are those not captured by any social media because it means I was 100% committed to the moment. The events that would be on 2013 Yearbook include:
-Hugging my BFF for the first time in "our" (his) apartment in Chicago after moving here. 
-My birthday at the Valley and my last weekend working there prior to moving. Over the summer, those men both traumatized me and made me realize that not every man is a horrible slutbag. 
- Phone calls and FaceTime dates with my friends around the country that include the sharing good news of job offers, pictures of their cat and tales of how nauseatingly cute their boyfriend has been this week. 
- Receiving the call at 8PM on a Friday night from my current boss with a job offer (yay!!)
-Helping my favorite couple/mentors pack up their gorgeous suburban home to prepare for a move to a penthouse in New York. 
- Arriving home on Christmas Eve to see three giant boxes of clothing from my current employer but getting more excited to see a little pink box with mom's awful handwriting on the top. It contained my prescriptions, homemade cookies and a card with my mom's version of a thoughtful note. 

It's a snow day and my brain, like Facebook, doesn't always function properly, so I've forgotten other top moments of the year. Guess what? There's going to be a lot more this year and I'll be happier if they're not on my social media. 

Now excuse me while I paste the link to this post on my Twitter and Facebook. Ahem.