Biscuits, but No Gravy.

Buckle up people.

I really thought it was going to work out this time. I really did. All the signs pointed to a happy ending.

I thought I had finally met a version of myself - but with a penis. A guy with "feelings". Extroverted. Sensitive. In touch with himself and knowing what he wanted out of a relationship - and willing to work for it. A man who had worked through his shit and come out the other side whole.

But

Alas, here I am.
Again.

The Tale of King Triton

Spoiler alert:
There will likely be little snark and humor in this post. Frankly, I'm a heartbroken Doozy. So sad. Tired. Beyond disappointed.

See, here's the thing, Triton isn't like the other guys - he's not an epic douche. He's...nice, sweet. Funny and goofy.

Boy, we started off with a bang. Or should I say Triton started off with a bang; and maybe that was our downfall. Three months ago, he came on very strong - not in a sexual sense, but in an emotional sense from the get go. In fact, I haven't had a man seem that interested in me in a long, long time. To say I was a deer in headlights is an understatement.

We went on three dates in a week and a half, and Triton was very clear from the beginning - even though he had two other women on the hook as well at that time, he had the best feeling about me, and he wanted us to only see each other.
So, he broke it off with them and we started dating exclusively after our third date - two weeks in. Almost unheard of in today's modern world.

Triton told corny jokes, listened to 80's music and called me silly, made up names, like Biscuits. We had a lot of fun, laughed a lot. He wrote me gushy poems and brought me back a shell mobile from his dive trip to Hawaii. Triton told me time and time again that he was unlike any man that  I had ever met, that I needed to get used to being treated well from now on. And man, did I feel we were compatible on the feelings scale. More compatible than any other man I'd ever met. I mean shit, our Meyers-Briggs types were compatible, our Love Languages were compatible; we even both liked the X-Files. Triton was a man that I actually didn't have qualms telling my feelings to for a change, and our communication and chemistry was off the charts. I actually felt...accepted.

IMAGINE THAT.

And, boy, I was THIS close to falling so completely in love him. Probably the closest I have been since Hipster Pinocchio. Oh, I could have fallen in a heartbeat if I had let my guard down completely. I was staring at that ledge.

But here's the rub.

Triton just wasn't falling in love with me.
Just wasn't going to happen.
And he didn't know why, even though we were so compatible on so many levels.

Oh for sweet fuck sakes. Here we go again.
I knew it was there. I could feel it.
The gushiness stopped two months in. The sweet poems and over-the-top protestations of wanting to be with me stopped. All talk of the future stopped. When I would say sweet, mushy things to him, he was non-committal, or he would respond with an emoji

A FUCKING EMOJI FOR SHIT SAKES.

In fact, I went from feeling like an A #1 priority, to the bottom of the barrel.
Triton's Friday Night Fuck Girl..in the course of a few weeks. And I couldn't figure out what the change was. He'd bought a new house and was pretty obsessed with it. So, I was patient and supportive - I mean moving is one of the top five most stressful things that can happen in life. Shit gets real, yo! But can that really keep someone from falling in love? Did I say something? Do something? Scare him off? Did he meet someone else?
Fuck if I know. Triton wasn't really telling me what he was feeling, even though he was supposed to be a "feelings guy". In fact, for a "feelings guy", he really sucked at the feelings part.

So. In the end, when Triton finally told me that he was "into" me, that I pushed all the buttons on his relationship-o-meter, but he just wasn't falling in love with me...
I let him go.
Walked away.
Adios.
Sayonara.

I do have my dignity for shit sakes.
And, as I've said many times before:

I DON'T WASTE MY TIME ON PEOPLE WHO DON'T LOVE ME.

No matter how much it hurt this time, and no matter how much I wanted to stay.

Honestly, I don't have the patience, time or inclination to try and make someone fall in love with me, when it's just not going to happen - for whatever reason, when it wasn't my fault. I'm too tired of trying to convince men of how lovable and what a catch I am. Fuck. I've done that my whole goddamn life - try to convince men to love me, and we can see where it's gotten me.

I'm well aware of how lovable I am. Even if men aren't.
FUCK THAT NOISE.

And the truly ironic part, the most ironicy, ironic part of ALL of this, is that because of this, me, us; Triton said at the end that he's going to go see his therapist for a while to figure out what's going on in his head. He thought that maybe it was a "fear of commitment" thing, but he just wasn't sure, and he felt bad about it.

AWESOME.

No, really. I'm a big fan of therapy. Lord knows it helped me get my shit straightened out in the past. I just wish Triton had done that BEFORE HE STARTED DATING ME, NOT AFTER IT WAS ALL OVER.

This really does us no good now, does it?
See, here's the thing.
We were dating for three months, not a hugely long time - I grant you that, but that seems like a long enough time for Triton to have figured out that he was fucked up and start seeing his therapist before shit went down with me. Before I walked away without looking back and took my considerable heart with me.
IF OUR RELATIONSHIP HAD MATTERED ENOUGH TO HIM.
IF I HAD MATTERED TO HIM.

Which, clearly, I didn't.
Shelley and Tricia tell me that there's a chance that Triton will come back once he gets his head straightened out. But come on people. This blog wouldn't exist if men were smarter than that.  We know how this shit goes down in Doozyland. Men have no problems leaving me. It's why I have no problems walking away.

THEY DON'T COME BACK.

No.
Just no.
Triton will go do his work, work on his "white knight syndrome" - see, I think that's a BIG part of what's going on here. ALL the previous women he's seriously dated and fallen in love with, even his ex-wife, were FUCKED UP; anger issues, unresolved abuse issues, raging insecurities - you name it. And Triton seemed drawn to those women. Women that he could "fix" or "save" or "take care of". Maybe he thrives in the dysfunction.

I'M NOT THAT WOMAN.
I FIXED MYSELF A LONG TIME AGO.

And maybe it's as simple as that for Triton. Maybe he needs a fucked up chick who will treat him like shit, but will make him feel needed/loved because he's always having to save them, or counsel them, or fix their shit; and he's scared to be in a fully functional, emotionally healthy relationship with a confident, loving woman would would give him 100% of herself, even with her occasional minor insecurities (and we know what they are). Lord knows, I was good to him, and I would have blown his mind if we'd fallen in love, but Triton certainly didn't need to fix me.

DUNNO. 
I COULD BE WRONG
THAT'S MY ARMCHAIR PSYCH TAKE.

Or, maybe Trition's still hung up on his ex, or his best girl-friend, or maybe he's just not that into me. 
Bottom line, it isn't my issue, it's Triton's. Whatever emotional unavailability he has going on right now - and that's what this is; none of that has to do with me.

BITCH, I'M FABULOUS.

So, Triton will go do his thing, get his head on straight but do you honestly think he will come back to me?

HONESTLY?
PLEASE...

Same odds as winning the lottery. 
Listen, I've been on over 100 dates in the last 5 years, talked to many, many men about how they view women in general (icky). Men, overall don't do that (there are, of course, the outliers). They don't go back.
Men usually go onto greener pastures, looking for the next best score, no matter how fantastic the score they're leaving is.
Cruise one more profile.
Just another girl.
Maybe the next one will be better:
Smarter
Funnier
Hotter
Not a fucking psycho

And this doesn't in any way make Triton a douche, he's not. It just makes him like every other man in the modern online dating world. It's why Triton saves the profiles of all the women he's talked to/ gone on dates with on his computer. It's easy to lose track when you have that many options to choose from.

He should start a spreadsheet.
I bet it's easier.

Still.
Once again, as a woman who has figured her shit out and knows where she is emotionally and knows what she wants; I'm once again, just the collateral damage in someone else's psychological maelstrom.

In the end, though; I can't find the snark.
It just makes me too sad, too exasperated and generally bummed out.
It's like Greg Berhrendt , author of the most excellent book "He's Just Not That Into You" says:

"A man who wants to make a relationship work will move mountains to keep the woman he loves."

So yeah.

Here I am.

Tired
Disappointed
Hurt
And to be honest, kinda pissed at myself that I listened to and believed Triton's flowery, gushy, "I'm not like other men" bullshit

ROOKIE MISTAKE.
WISHFUL THINKING. 
I KNOW BETTER BY NOW.
GODDAMMIT DOOZY. 
YOU FUCKING ETERNAL OPTIMIST.

Sigh.
So, once again I'm working on putting the "what could have beens" away in a little box deep inside me, where I keep the Pinochhio's and the Wesley's and the Berengarius's and all the other men who I've spent too much time and emotion on and in the end, received nothing but heartache in return. The "letting go's" and the "moving on's" that I'm known for.

THE SHIT NO ONE SEES.

I sometimes wonder if all these Doozy's; not the one date, douche Doozy's but these ones, like Triton...the ones that meant something - if I ever pop into their heads. Like when they are at Target looking for socks or toothpaste. Does some random memory of me just zip into their noggins, make them stop and go:
"Damn...."

Probably not, cuz = clueless. But still. I do wonder if these guys ever stop to think of the other person and the carnage their issues left behind.

Doubtful. So doubtful.

WHATEVER.
I DESERVE MUCH BETTER THAN THIS.

UPDATE! UPDATE! UPDATE!

So, I wrote this on Friday, 8/28/15 - the night of our breakup. And WOW! what a big ol' bucket of angstysauce THAT was
.
WHEEEEWWWWWW.....
HOLY SHITBALLS BATMAN.

One thing about Doozy, I don't let a man keep me down  for long anymore. Yeah, that little box I was talking about up top? Shit's on lockdown.
Turns out, it didn't take me long to process the downfall of Triton at all.

HIS ISSUES.
NOT MINE.
HIS LOSS.


Clearly, I'm doing fine now, and y'all can look forward to the snark and fail of upcoming Doozyland - once I figure out what the fuck I want to do.

But to make it up to you, here's a GIF of Justin Beiber wiping out in a mall.

You'll notice the kid walking by is all...
NAH, BITCH.