I have relationship trouble. I just wasn't ready. I mean, c'mon. Why does it have to be so serious? I thought we were just dating. I don't even know her yet. There hasn't been enough time. I've gotten burned before, okay? I have commitment issues.
Somehow, somewhere along the last few years, I've turned into a guy who just stands on the corner, watching all the girls go by. Pick and choose, fantasize and talk to my buddies ... compare this one with that one, and maybe whistle every once in awhile at a real hottie who turns and waves and winks. But commitment? Nah. I've done commitment. I know all about commitment, man. And it's a whole lot of trouble.
But there she goes again. I can see my real, solid, accredited degree. She has been walking past me here on the corner for years. I've flirted with her, and whistled. I've compared notes with the other guys, and made the case that she's the prettiest. She's the curviest. She's the one I want. Why ... if I had a chance to talk to her, she'd fall madly in love with me. I know she would. We're made for each other. It's obvious. Look at her, man! She's gorgeous! The rest of those girls are dogs compared to her. Admit it.
Last summer, the chick came over here to talk to me. She's been watching me watching her, and she finally got tired of all the flirting and she just sashayed on over here in all her cuteness and dressed in that dress, and she talked to me! Right to my face!
I took the inquiry class, LRN 150. I talked to her. She flirted shamelessly. She liked me. I could tell.
I like her too.
We started dating.
Or ... I thought we were just dating. But ... she wants a commitment!
It doesn't work without the commitment. That's what she has been telling me all week. Okay, all month. She's been telling me all month that this isn't going to work without a real commitment from me. She says I'm not there for her. That I'm just phoning it in. But I'm here. See? Me. Here. In this chair, in front of the computer. What does she want from me? She says my body is here but that I'm not. Not really.
It's not very attractive when such a pretty girl turns into such a nag, you know that? Not attractive at all. She used to make more of an effort.
Okay, okay ... she's not really nagging. She's right. I know she's right. She's really here, and I'm not. Not really. She wants daily, ongoing, committed, and focused attention. She wants me to mean it. Every day. Either we have a relationship or we don't. She's right.
The marathon writing session across the past two days feel exactly like a lover's quarrel. I have no idea why I have been so stubbornly clinging to my freedom - because I don't even want freedom any more. I don't want to stand on the corner and watch all the other girls go by. I want this. Here. I want this degree. I do. She wins. I give up. I'm sorry. I was wrong. And I am paying the price today, too. My shoulder is killing me - apparently, fighting with the woman makes me cramp up. And my eyes aren't functioning properly. Too much time spent with a refresh rate all at once, in a fevered effort to make up for previous neglect.
But she's too good a woman to buy it. I brought flowers. I tried to make up for my asinine behavior by making a grand gesture. (Asinine: 1. utterly stupid or silly; 2. Of, relating to, or resembling an ass.) She has sweetly put my flowers into a vase, and she is not nagging at all. But she doesn't buy it. She doesn't want flowers and candy and grand gestures. She wants love.
She'll make a man of me yet.