I didn’t intend to write about my “No Dating for a Year Experiment” two days in a row but the dread of the next 364 days is starting to set in.
The idea of only having strictly platonic relationships for the next year has had me grinding my teeth today and replaying this one particular scene from The Inbetweeners in my head because, my God. Right now, committing to a whole year of that just seems like I’m asking to be that wound up.
The truth is I’m usually much happier (READ: FUNCTIONAL) when I’m not in a relationship. Relationships take a lot of energy from me that I typically need to use for myself simply to function.
Even just getting to know a person that I’m developing romantic feelings for takes every single ounce of me. Suddenly, without fail, I can’t keep all of the plates spinning: my work suffers, I stop going to bed at a reasonable time, I stop taking care of myself, I don’t exercise when I need to, my mental health worsens, I regress – ALL of my energy is spent learning about how this person communicates with me (and when they don’t) and trying to keep myself together while it’s happening.
Almost always, I fall apart and things end.
This is not something I have been able to stop, but years of therapy have helped lessen the intensity of my inability to handle dating failures. Things are better but not good.
It’s a mess and I don’t know how to be less of a mess while learning about someone I really like yet. So I guess that’s part of why I need a year off. I’ve been practicing relationships and dating for the last, hmm *looks at watch*, 10 years or so? I’m not getting any better at them. And before you chime in and try to teach me how to be a cool girl about dating, just save it for a better time.
I need a time out. I need to get better before I tag myself back in and try again. I deserve that.