So, is it that I'm afraid to be truly happy? Am I afraid of giving all of myself to someone? Am I afraid of getting all of someone else in return? Yes. To all of it. And screw me for thinking I'm special for any of it. I'm not the only one who ever had commitment issues, right?
So, why do I seemt o completely screw up any semblance of relationship I have? Any hint of friendship with those of the opposite sex is tainted by the sheer introduction of me. What? WHAT? YEAH! I'm going to live in my parents attic for the rest of my life writing poetry that no one reads. Maybe I'll have a secret lover. Maybe I'll remain a sad, sad case. But the truth will still be there. I'm hopeless. Isn't it supposed to be the guy that comes crawling back, begging for forgivness, if only I'd give him another chance, he won't do it again.
So I have high standards. Maybe my "standards" are just a way to hide my expectations. A way for me to say that I want nothing but the best, and if you don't look it, you don't get it. I won't so much as acknowledge that you are male if you aren't Christian, if you smoke, drink or do drugs, don't have a job, don't read for pleasure, if you can't have a conversation without talking about sports and if you go to pro games for fun I really get sick. What is wrong with that? I guess nothing. But if I stick to it, I'm a snob. I have come to realize this onseveral occasions. Yes. And then I quickly forget it, rationalizing it away with a thought that God will bring the perfect fit to me for my other half, and he won't be any of those things. But I have not even once stopped to think that maybe I'm not the perfect fit to his. Ever.
Have I wasted too much time looking for the "perfect" person, when I'm not one either?