I’m One More Bad Relationship Away From 30 Cats

It’s such a “single girl” joke to make comments about becoming a crazy cat lady one day, but recently, it’s been less of a joke and more of an inevitable reality for me. I’m at the point where I’ve dealt with so many bad boyfriends and ill-fated relationships that I’m ready to throw in the towel, hit up my local animal shelter, and spend the rest of my days cleaning up hairballs and cat litter. Okay, yes, I’m kind of joking, but this is why becoming a crazy cat lady doesn’t sound as far-fetched as it used to:

Every time I think a guy’s different, I get proven wrong.

I hate to be that girl who moans about how all guys are the same, but every time I give a man the benefit of the doubt, he goes ahead and gives me more evidence that it’s true. I try so hard to pick quality people to date, but they still end up doing the same crap to me over and over again. Maybe it’s me, but I can’t figure out what I’m doing wrong.

I’m so much more relaxed when I’m single.

I go from the world’s chillest human to the world’s craziest human in the time it takes to get into a relationship and realize that the guy I’m with is pulling some shady crap. Even though being in a relationship is nice, I feel like I’m my best self when I’m a single lady, and I’d much rather stick with that than sacrifice my emotional well-being by getting myself into another bad relationship.

I’m perfectly sane until I get screwed over. 

I’ve been told that I’m not a crazy ex-girlfriend, but really, I just do a good job of containing all my pettiness. I’ve always thought of myself as a nice, normal girl, but I know that when I start to pick up on the fact that a guy is doing me wrong, my head goes all sorts of weird places. The constant self-questioning and anxiety drives me a little nuts, and I really think I’d be better off avoiding relationships at all instead of running the risk of losing my mind.

It’s really starting to not be worth it.

Is the time I spend in a happy relationship really worth the pain when it goes down in flames? I used to think so, but now, I’m over it. I’m tired of dealing with guys who only show their true colors after I’m already emotionally invested in them. At this point, I’d rather be single for the rest of my life than have to deal with this crap until I find someone worth keeping around.

This relationship crap has given me more issues than a comic book series.

Trust issues, commitment issues, emotional stability issues, you name it. I really feel like my personality has changed over the years as a direct result of all the times I’ve been taken advantage of. I’m a strong-ass woman, but I really don’t know how much more of this I can deal with.

I swear I’m losing my attraction to men as a whole.

I really feel like it’s only a matter of time before my romantic instinct just shrivels up and dies inside me, never to be heard from again. I’ve tried not to let a few bad apples spoil the bunch, but after eating enough bad apples, I’m kind of losing my taste for the fruit, if you know what I mean. If my next relationship is filled with worms and bruises, that really might be it for me.

I can kind of see how crazy cat ladies are created.

You know it’s bad when you see Eleanor Abernathy on “The Simpsons” and feel a little bad when you laugh at her scenes because hey, that’s probably going to be you in a few years. After dealing with crappy relationships for so long, the idea of giving away all your f*cks and setting down with some cute animals sounds pretty appealing even if it does leave you smelling a bit strange.

I’m starting to think being single is my destiny.

And you know what? I accept it. Spending the rest of my life sans relationship drama is starting to sound less like a punishment and more like a reward for something I did in a past life.

I don’t even want to subject anyone else to my damaged self.

At this point, I kind of wonder if it would even be fair to a new boyfriend to put him through the motions of dating me. I’ve been with so many losers that I feel like I’m going to automatically be waiting to get screwed over, even if the new guy is a dream come true. I’m probably being a bit melodramatic here, but I’d almost rather skip right over my next failed relationship and go straight to being a lonely spinster.

Cats have always brought me more happiness than men. 

They’re cuddly, but not needy. They don’t cheat on you, and they don’t suddenly leave after deciding they’d like to see if other humans can pet them better than you do. I wouldn’t necessarily be thrilled at the prospect of never finding The One, but if I had to pick between being single forever and never having cats again, the cats will always win.

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