I have accepted a painful reality that long-term relationships just aren’t for me. It’s not that I’m totally against them, but most guys just aren’t in it for the long haul these days, so why should I waste my time giving it my all if I’m just going to have to untangle myself from them in the end?
- Feelings are a bitch. With attachment come all those damn emotions—and, in some cases, that dreaded L-word. No thanks. Sure, love is great and I’d love to be in love again, but right now I’d rather avoid all that mess. Besides, I just don’t have the necessary strength to get over another broken heart. It’s still missing more than a few pieces from the last few heartbreaks.
- I don’t have the time. Attaching, detaching; attaching, detaching. Do I have time for this? Hell no. I have places to go, books to read, books to write, dogs to cuddle, and Stranger Things 2 just dropped, so that’s a good 10 hours right there. I can’t spare a single moment on attaching myself to someone only to have to detach from them in a few months or, in some cases, a few weeks.
- I prefer to attach myself to things that are a sure bet. In addition to attaching myself to hours of binge-watching Netflix, something that will never break my heart, I’m also attaching myself to other things that I know won’t bail. My friends, for example, plus my family, the organizations I volunteer for, my work, and even the occasional one-night stand. In all these cases, I know what I can expect, so being attached is OK in these situations.
- I’m too old for drama. I’m 30-something, which is code for being on the wrong side of 35. (That’s my opinion, FYI.) When you know a detachment is in the cards, you also know that drama is probably in there too. I mean, has anyone ever been able to detach themselves from someone without setting up a fake Facebook and/or Twitter profile to stalk them? Maybe even set up a fake Tinder account to spy, too? That’s some dramatic, childish crap right there and I’m too old for it, but I also know that it’s just how things will go down.
- I understand how things are a little too well. As much as I hate to admit to it, I get it. I get why guys don’t want to be attached these days. It doesn’t take a brain surgeon to figure out we’re living in a society where sex is cheap and easy, dating has become all but obsolete, and guys are constantly looking for the next best thing. While I think this is malarkey and, in many ways, pisses me off, I get that this is how things are. I don’t see the point in attaching myself to someone who, from the get-go, already has one foot out the door looking for someone they think is better than me. (Fun fact: There isn’t, jerk.)
- I believe in equality. Although my mother always told my sister and I that we should find someone who loves us more than we love them, I don’t believe this to be a very healthy way to go about relationships. I want my partner and I to love, want, need, desire, and—you guessed it —be attached to each other equally. If that attachment, along with everything else, isn’t equal from the beginning, then detachment is inevitable. I don’t want that.
- I’m scared AF. I’ve been put through the ringer in relationships—cheated on, verbally abused, lied to, deceived, ripped off, taken advantage of, and because all that wasn’t enough, I’m now a widow. I can’t rationalize, no matter how hard I try, allowing myself to get close to someone out of major fear of having to go through the motions of losing them, for whatever reason, and having to deal with the aftermath. So much so that the last guy who told me he loved me a couple months ago, I responded with, “Wow! Look at the time! You must be exhausted. Why don’t you go to bed?”
- I’ve become too proud. When your heart has been kicked around enough, you don’t just become scared of it happening again, but you want to avoid, at all costs, another round of humiliation you become proud, almost too proud—and that’s exactly where I’m at now. I’m not walking down the road of humiliation again and getting attached is just a one-way ticket to Humiliation Town.
- I’m very much aware of my worth. I’m a catch. I know this. I may not be the hottest girl in the room or the smartest or the wittiest or the funniest—wait, no, I’m usually the funniest actually—but I’m the complete package in a lot of ways. This isn’t my ego talking; this is what I know to be fact after many years of being me. (And it took me a long time to get to this point.) When you’re a catch, you don’t set yourself up for disappointment, because you just don’t! Disappointment is the result of games that come with all that attaching and detaching nonsense.
- I’ve got this. My life is awesome. Well, most of the time. It’s complete as is and I have never, nor will I ever be, one of those women who only sees completeness in her life when she’s somebody’s girlfriend. Since that’s the case, I’m holding out on letting myself get attached. I don’t care how long it takes. If the world is my oyster, why should I mess around fumbling with bullshit? Sure, life is a trial and error process, but at some point, you need to realize that you’ve reached your cap on errors and you’re ready for something more.
