I had just moved to Manhattan and hadn’t figured out the subway yet so I told my date to meet me at the bar I live above. We had instant chemistry and surprisingly my very first NYC date went well. So well that I got comfortable and it lasted three months too long. He was a handsome aspiring actor and he treated me like a princess, but I began to resent him because it felt like a relationship, and I definitely didn’t want that… no matter who the guy was. I started seeing another guy around the same time whom I met out one night. It was a good balance between the two because I told myself I wouldn’t commit to either.
By the third month mark, I could sense both boys were getting too serious and it made me became more detached. “I love you” Those three words killed both flings. Anytime a guy tells me he loves me, I flee. Love is the monster. Love makes you stuck. I’m in New York fucking City and I want to be free as a bird. If I don’t allow myself to love, I have ultimate power and freedom. I can walk away at any moment.
Both of the guys were libra’s, who are my absolute favorite people but… both guys were libra’s… which meant both of their birthdays were this past October… the same weekend in fact! What are the chances? At this point, I didn’t even care about “getting caught”. I just wanted to end things with both of them but I felt cruel doing it so close to their birthdays. I went ahead and executed my plan because even Cinderella’s big day ended at midnight. I took them both out on the same night, back to back, for birthday dinners, with a surprise cake and candle at the end, and no matter what they wished for when they blew the candle, I knew one thing was certain: that was the last time I would see either of them. I signed the checks, feeling like a devil dressed up as an angel, but for some reason, I didn’t feel bad. I clearly told them I did not want anything serious. If I could stop myself from falling in love, why couldn’t they? Vulnerability gave them three good months but it also hurt them. Was it worth it? Is it ever? Dating should be fun, not serious – unless you think you’ve found “The One”. Sorry boys, I’m nobodies “One”.
I established the “three-month rule” after this mess. I refuse to date a guy for longer than three months. That’s when the excitement fizzles out anyway. That’s when like turns into love and I’m not having it. Since when are men the new bitches? Control your emotions ladies.