Now, I’ve never been fortunate enough to date myself romantically, but I have bared witness to all of my relationships up until this point in my life and there is at least one strong conclusion I’ve drawn from observing my partners: dating me is probably a nightmare.
I first want to define what I mean by “dating me,” which is a term I loosely use to describe guys I admire from afar with fantasy to the men whose hands are down my pants and then taking me out for dinner.
It’s hard to define relationships that are always in a transient, often-muddled state. Probably because I have yet to find the right one.
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