WHY THE FUCK ARE RELATIONSHIPS SO DAMN HARD?

You have the right person but it is the wrong time. You meet the wrong person and suddenly you got more time than an unemployed nigga who pays rent using dick. Everything is so complicated. Why? Why can’t everything just be as smooth as an asshole post Brazilian? Why can’t relationships be as easy as an NBA player slam dunking into Khloe Kardashian’s vagina?

I often catch myself saying? “Oh I am young, so I have time?” But do I really? I am 27. While I am nowhere near retirement, I am a lot closer to 30 than I am 18. But am I feeling this way because society says we should be shacking up by now? Or do I feel this way because I genuinely want someone?

To get real, I have been dating someone for a while now, not committed, not exclusive, but I have been dating. While this was no commitment, I have been faithful to the situation. I went in with a clear conscious, optimistic and hopeful. The connection was real and this was something completely different than I had ever previously experienced. If I had a check list, each requirement would have an ‘X’ next to it. Damn near perfect, right? Wrong.

I don’t know what the entire fuck is wrong with me, but perfection clearly isn’t perfect for me. I am a complexed creature. I love order, I am meticulous, I thrive off of organization but for some reason I love my relationships to be sloppy, disordered and as uncoordinated as Musiq Soul Child’s eyes.

Now do not get me wrong, I am not trying to be Ike and Tina. However, I do want to stay low and build like Bey and Jay, be as passionate as Angelina and Billy Bob and keep them guessing like Ernie and Bert. Shit, for the right price I might even be someone’s bitch like Meek is for Nicki. If I found someone that made me feel this way, I would be more than willing to play my position like a shortstop & pick up eer’thang someone else’s bae is hittin, as Alicia did for Swizz.

In essence, what I am saying is, I just want someone to look at me the way Rihanna does a blunt. Is that too much to ask?

This brings me back to my original question, do we have time to find that can’t sleep, can’t eat, reach for the stars, over the fence, World Series, love? Do we hold out until we find it? What if that means waddling around stuffed with a fetus at 50-years-old, like Janet Jackson? Is that the price we pay for finding “The One”?

I do know one thing is for sure, while it seems like a comfort, there is no way I can enter any situation being a portion of myself. On this journey of self-discovery, it is best I stay alone, learn about me again. The adult me. I have figured out enough to know that age may not always bring about wisdom, but desires definitely do shift, needs become priority and wants waver.

Love is undefined, its immeasurable and at this point in my life, love feels unavailable.

Signed,

Can’t Host, Can’t Travel.