Mr Below-Potential

And so begins another year. Another year of feeling lost. Lost amongst the endless possibilities of jobs, study, boys and sauvignon blancs. How can you choose one when there are too many, which are seemingly unattainable? What do you do when you find yourself closer to 30, still acting like a 21 year old? This appeared to be questions that many of my friends asked themselves this New Year. Luckily for us, we had wine as a buffer from reality.

The reality for me was saying goodbye to the most recent 'big one'. Not the love of my life, not the man of my dreams, definitely not my soulmate, just a guy who had what I wanted at this point in my life. The one who made me laugh, who had good taste in music, clothes, movies, the one I didn't feel inadequate with. And the one who was great in the sack.

We ended because of every Fifty Shades of Grey fan's nightmare. The girl couldn't turn the enigmatic commitment-phobe into the man who's there for you at the end of the day (unlike what that terrible waste of paper would make you think). To be honest though, when it comes to my happiness I want it my way, on my terms; not on theirs. And let's face it, Fifty Shades of Grey is a steaming pile of literary mummy porn cow shit. Good riddance to bad rubbish. The book, I mean. Burn the book. And yeah, HE moved interstate. 

There was a glimmer of hope about a week before he left where I thought I could get my beautiful moment of understanding and a bittersweet farewell ala 'The Way We Were'.... And maybe get laid once more. However, one fateful night of finally getting to say my piece, a night where there were tears, hugs and understanding, two days later Mr Below-Potential turned into the same old cunt we all came to know and hate.

We had been sleeping together for a few months. It had begun about 6 months after we had initially broken up. Aww hai conflicting emotions! Certainly missed you mother fuckers. Subsequently, a week before he left I got my night of significant emotional release when I told him everything I thought since the problems coinciding with our break up had occurred. I will break it down in dot point for you all with subtitles: 

- he made me feel like his personal whore and emotional punching bag (undefined "friends with benefits" is a bullshit definition)

- he spends his life never living up to his potential (lazy is the new black)

- commitment terrifies him (to the point where deciding on whether he would prefer pizza or burritos for dinner is a life altering decision)

- he feels that a relationship means his personal identity disappears (and you are then condemned to a life of picking Egyptian cotton sheets, sensible drinking and nagging "<INSERT NAME HERE> <INSERT NAME HERE> <INSERT NAME HERE> ! CAN YOU TAKE THE RUBBISH OUT ALREADY???"..............

Ok, so the last one may be true (and terrifying) but I'm OCD, it's not my fault) Needless to say, that dude can run away from commitment faster than a fat kid after the last ice cream van on earth.

So if he has an innate fear of reaching his potential, thus pushing anything he may want away before it potentially blows up in his face, I began pondering my own fears. Have I not been reaching my own potential deliberately? Have I been dating, working, acting, dressing the way I perceive myself out of fear of success? In today's cynical society it is becoming more and more prevalent that we should stop looking for Mr Perfect and settle for Mr Just-Fine. So what's a girl to do when Mr Just-Fine treats you like the emotional equivalent of a date with Jeffrey Dahmer? Do I in fact from now on actually aim higher and potentially have more success with being treated the way I deserve? Seems like such an oxymoron....

For now, I will just accept that I never got my fairy tale goodbye, no lingering hold before he left my life forever. The lesson to be learnt is there is no Disney happy ending, no happily ever after, and you know why? Walt Disney was an anti-Semite. And anti-semites are bad. I also like the word shvitzing.