I've been putting this post off but I had to get around to it eventually. Every post is better with pictures, and yet I have to assume most of these women would prefer to never have been associated with me.
Then I remembered: They're married and happy while I'm Los Lonely Ben. Who cares what they think?
Relative Youth and Inexperience
any growing boy, there were girls all throughout grade school whose
hair I pulled and whose cooties I coveted. But for all realistic
purposes the list doesn't begin until I was 14 and met Jency.
are two women that I compare every female to, Jency is one of them.
Since our budding romance took place before digital cameras, the iPod
and Snuggies I have no photographs but of all the women who have torn my
heart to pieces, Jency is the most beautiful. She was
everything a geeky 14/15 year-old with acne could dream of: funny,
smart, outdoorsy, artistic, stunningly-beautiful. In our awkward
adolescence we weren't really old enough to "date" so we just spent a
lot of purgatory-esque quality time together where I wondered "what we
were" and she just sat there being beautiful. The ambiguity tormented
I got frustrated, angry even. I remember I told her that I was
"done with whatever this is" on the school bus back from a basketball
game. If I remember right she cried and If I remember right I felt
powerful and vindicated as a result. I rebounded by "going out" with
Megan, the punky-alternative girl whose father had been charged with
vehicular manslaughter. Megan was my first kiss, on the floor at her
house while our friends watched The Rocky Horror Picture Show. My first
kiss -- like so many others in my life -- was the wrong girl, and it
haunts me still today.
High I mostly struck out for 3 years. My Jr. year I met Kristen. She
was punky and alternative (I had a thing back then) and she was a
swimmer. We both liked Dashboard, back when it was OK to like Dashboard.
I took her to the homecoming dance for our first date. By the time I
got back to school on Monday she was mad at me for reasons I still can't
explain so a few days later we had a big, public snafu at a football
game and that, as they say, was that.
We didn't talk for a year
and when I ran for SBO she got her swimmers to stage an "A Vote for Ben
is a Vote for Communism" campaign. Oddly enough, after I lost that
election I went through a personality crisis and became a better person,
and Kristen and I subsequently became friends again (one of the few
women of my past I can call a friend.)
From there I had a series
of romantic failures. I was in love with Hot-Sexy-Haley for 3 years but
she didn't want anything to do with me. I even asked her to Prom and she
turned me down. I was in love with Kathryn for 2 years, but she didn't
want anything to do with me. I was in love with two different Kelsey's
for one year. Kelsey 1 was perpetually mistreated/breaking up
with/getting back together with my friend Tyson while I watched,
longingly, from the sidelines. Kelsey 2 smelled like soup and cried when
I asked her to Prom because she wanted to go with someone else. We were
Prom royalty together. She talked during movies.
Which brings me
to Camille. She was blond, blue-eyed, leggy and we were two hormonal
teenagers who couldn't keep our hands off each other.
was my first "girlfriend" even though I never actually used that word.
We dated something like 7 different times over the course of a year and a
half, which believe me is SO healthy. One time when we broke up she let
the air out of my tires. She always felt like I was only dating her
because her friends had turned me down. Really, I was dating her because
of how great she looked in tight jeans. When I moved away to college
she showed up unexpectedly at my doorstep a couple of times. Her parents
walked in on us making out constantly. We broke up in person, we broke
up on the phone, we broke up over email. The final breakup occurred over
21 through 23 were a perfect blend of when I was beginning to have
emotional maturity but hadn't yet become jaded by a steady stream of
disappointment by the opposite sex.
there was Merry, named for her Dec. 25 birthday. She was awesome. She
loved movies. She was brunette. BUT she lived in Boise. Idaho.
I made a
few attempts at the god-forsaken 4-hour drive between but it was doomed.
My friend Ben married her friend Natalie and for 3 days I lived in
Idaho and everything was perfect. Then I returned my Tuxedo, drove home
and, except for a few well-intentioned phone calls, lost complete
contact with her. Complete. I hope she's doing ok. We had great baklava
And then, there was Katie. We worked together at the bakery.
She wore hippie skirts and peace-sign jewelry and sang along to
terrible folk music. She was adorable. She had just broken off an
engagement and swore off men so I pursued her relentlessly until she
succumbed to my advances. Things were great for 2 months and then she
went to Chile.
she got back, she didn't want to date me. I hated her for 6 months and
chased a string of younger women out of spite. Then, one December night,
we decided to be friends. The next day we were dating again. Things
were great for 4 months and then my fear of commitment reared its head
and we broke up.
We remained friends. I went through The Dark
Times and she was a trusted confidante. Then, one December night we
started dating again. Things were great for 2 months and then she moved
to Norway. She's still there.
I have a tendency to date girls multiple times. I don't trust any relationship that hasn't ended at least once.
I told you earlier there's 2 girls I compare everyone to. Katie's number 2.
The Dark Times
We don't talk about The Dark Times.
The Jerk Store called, they're running out of me
been a jerk before. I have a tendency to become smitten at the drop of a
hat, rush into a relationship and realize after a couple of days that
I'm actually not compatible with the person at all. Such was the case
with Cami. I met her on a Saturday, took her out the next Saturday, we
were inseparable for exactly 14 days and then I told her I wanted to
"slow things down" and walked away. I'd post a picture if we had dated
long enough to take one.
At other times, I've been the jerk who
drops a girl like 3rd period French to get back with an ex. These sting
especially because I left them both for The Dark Times, and because I
really wish I hadn't.
there was Jenny. She was my neighbor, she was beautiful, shy and
totally awesome. It took 7 months before she would come out of her room
and hang out with the gang. My friend Tyler was in love with her and
like a gentleman I asked his permission to ask her out. Things were
going well, we went to California together and spent the whole time
pretending NOT to be flirting with each other and then, just as things
were about to really happen, I gave her the cold shoulder to go dig my
own grave. In my own defense, Tyler asked me to back off and, like a
gentleman, I used that excuse as justification for leaving her hanging
with no explanation whatsoever.
Amanda was a little different. We
actually dated for about a month before I inexplicably broke of all
contact with her and started running around with another girl. To be
fair though, when she moved home for the summer semester we agreed to
not be "exclusive." Yeah, I'm a monster.
Amanda was a freaking
bombshell, the smoking-hot red-headed dynamo that I'd always dreamed of
dating. She had great bone structure, which my children will desperately
need. She was a picky eater though, and was way too obsessed with Big
Bang Theory. Then, when I was feeling on the fence, she forced me to
watch She's The Man. Game over. Plus, I may or may not have tried to
date her older sister once. I'd post a picture, but they all seem to
have been deleted from Facebook -- I'm sure that's just a fluke.
got married recently. She posted her engagement pictures on Facebook
and looked phenomenal. When I saw them I spent the better part of an
afternoon verbally abusing myself.
Amanda and Jenni, if you're
reading this I want you both to know that I'm sorry for how I treated
you and that I'm overwhelmingly jealous of your husbands.
wasn't going to write this section, but then I remember that I'm a
journalist and I don't hide from the truth. HUZZAH! For the most part,
the last year's romances (pronounced Ro-maaahhhn-ses) have been
pointless casual flings. For example, my dear friend Anna and I spent
some time in a grey area between heated political debates (for some
reason I date a lot of uber-liberal feminists). She's completely
ridiculous and knows it, whereas I'm a pompous A** and I know it.
Between the two of us we licked the platter of non-committal dalliance
clean. She lives in D.C. now and in all likelihood I'll never see her
again. Good Riddance! (She knows I don't mean that).
In a similar
vein, there was also Allison during my sojourn in New York City. Another
uber-liberal feminist. I convinced her to read Atlas Shrugged and she
blocked her mind against it like Professor X did to Jean Grey. Whenever
we would talk politics she would make this funny frustrated face when I
cornered her into accepting facets of a Conservative viewpoint as
logical, like how spending money that doesn't exist isn't sound
is the one on the right of this picture. Conveniently, Natasha is the
Brunette on the left so this picture pulls double duty. Tash was my last
college girlfriend. We dated in May and June, then broke up when she
moved to New York in July. When I moved to New York in September we
decided to be friends. Yadda yadda yadda she may or may not have told
people we were getting married and may or may not have woke up one day
convinced that I was dead. I wasn't. At least I don't think I was. If
I'm dead then it's pretty ridiculous how bad my allergies have been
That's a wrap
were others of course, many of whom deserve their own paragraphs: Amy,
who the timing was always off with; Melissa, who I didn't fully
appreciate until she got her braces off (but by then it was too late);
The Dark Times, who can die a violent death for all I care (I don't mean
that...I might mean that); The Divorcee, who I'm currently in love with
but am also confident has only marginal knowledge that I even exist.
Not to mention a steady string of string of near-misses, outright
failures and at least one girl whose name I can't remember. Becky?
Each of them has helped meld me into the man that I am
today –– A bitter, cynical, depressive, high-functioning introvert with
mild agoraphobic tendencies.