Blue Skies, Broken Hearts… Next 12 Exits.

“I don’t know why I care so much, when I shouldn’t care at all…”
— The Ataris, Your Boyfriend Sucks 

Yes, I used an album title as the title of my blog post. This probably won’t be the only time I do this.

Well, the album is coming along, as are other features of creativity I’ve been working on. I’ve started a new job, and then, like the collapse of the Berlin Wall, I have been hit with yet another wave of insomnia.

I’m getting kind of tired of this. <— no pun intended.

I think one of the reasons why is, perhaps, I’m starting to completely come to terms with being single again. I mean, this is a big step for me. The history speaks for itself.

October – November 2004: Sharon
December 2004: Stephanie
February – March 2005:  Katherine

That was senior year — now for the post-graduation saga.

August – December 2005: Halee
December 2005 – April 2006: Anna
June 2006 – April 2007: Amanda
April 2007 – January 2010: Mandi
March 2010 – July 2011: Meghan

So, from August 2005 through last month, I was single for a grand total of 4 months. Wow. That’s kind of a shocking statistic.

I think given that history, and just the amount of bullshit that has piled on over the last several years, I’ve kind of given up on the opposite sex now. The idea of being with someone is almost as terrifying as being alone used to be.

Funny how the scales can tip like that.

I’m not one to admit when something bothers me — unless I’m talking to maybe one of the three people who are closest to me — but during a discussion I was having today with one of those three people, I told her that “my biggest fear is getting close to someone”. She asked me why, to which I replied:

“Because it leaves me vulnerable to my past”.

We continued the conversation for a bit, with me telling that I fear that my past always manifests itself when I’m in relationship — presumably because my relationship history is definitely one of the things I need to come to terms with.

Sounds frivolous, right? Well, it’s really not…

Dating has been a huge stress on me because I have historically used it in an attempt to discourage reality. I guess I tried justifying that to be in a relationship with someone would help me not feel certain holes in my heart. However, the pain still lingers.

In this latest example of burning bridges, the guilt I felt for breaking Meghan’s heart has had me walking on a razor’s edge ever since. I feel like a lot of things aren’t worth it anymore.

Happiness.
Love.
Success.
Self-image.

They don’t matter to me nearly as much as they used to, which I can only see as a by-product of stringing girls along and then cutting the strings, letting the marionettes collapse on the floor. I leave them responsible for fixing themselves, and I just move on to the *next set of tits I see.

*not intended to be a sexist remark. It’s metaphor, likening my quickness to move on to that of a man-whore. Whether it is how it is or not, that’s kind of how I see it.

Let’s revisit my senior year of high school for a moment.

Sharon — we dated… kind of. I was still putting in thirty hours a week at work and going to school (obviously). To a 17-year-old, this is intense stuff. I broke up with her because I wanted to date someone else.

Stephanie — after the someone else I wanted to date basically rejected me (ouch!), I went to my former fall-back girl, Stephanie. Nothing happened. We broke up… again.

Katherine — still is the other party in my fondest date. Sure, it was a typical high school “go to the mall” excursion, but she was fun and bubbly. Honestly, I didn’t think she was even going to say yes when I asked her out, but I was pleasantly surprised.

We had dinner and shopped for a bit. I remember buying her one of those giant cinnamon rolls (I think, anyway…), but I distinctly remember when we bounced into Spencer’s. I made a comment about a shirt — it had Mario on it and said “Everyone Loves An Italian Boy” — and she expressed disdain that she couldn’t afford it.

So, we went to Gameworks (that tells you how long ago this was) after that and she won a small, stuffed Mario from the claw-machine. The next morning, on the bus, while she was laying on my shoulder, she dropped something in my backpack. When I opened my bag up and pulled it out, it was the plush figure with a handmade card that said…

Drum-roll please.

“Everybody Loves An Italian Boy”.

After a couple of weeks and make-outs later, an interestingly chilly March morning came around. I got on the bus, then Katherine got on the bus just a few short minutes later. She was distant, and when I asked her about it after we got off the bus.

We disappeared behind the school and she, in the short sense, broke up with me. However, I didn’t get a reason as to why.

I was 20 minutes late to first period that day.

For five years, I never knew why, until one late IHOP night with my friend Morgan (who I will, at times, refer to as “The Juggernaut Bitch!”) informed me of what had happened before that interestingly chilly March morning.

I’m not going to speak of it, since I’m already kind of flirting with privacy. Let’s just say, it made sense.

This would explain why I actually use the break-up with Katherine as the catalyst to when everything fell apart. It hurt me. I think I was starting to actually FALL IN LOVE with her. It was the first time I remember my heart feeling that kind of pain.

I was a wreck (albeit a quiet one) until my last week before I graduated. That five days flew by. I didn’t even really think about the idea that I hadn’t seen Katherine — even on the bus — since the morning she broke up with me. I left LHS when Spring Break began, gave the school the finger, then a nod, as to say “you were a worthy adversary”, then I went home.

Four days later, grandpa died.
One month later, I fucked my shoulder up.
Two months later, was my surgery.
Two months later, was when I started dating Halee.
Four months later, we broke up so I could date Anna.
One month later, I took Anna’s virginity.
Two days later, Anna’s mom started her Holy War against us.
Three months later, she broke up with me.*
Two months later, I began dating Amanda.
Six months later, we broke up, then got back together.
Four months later, I cheated on her with Mandi.
Two days later, I broke up with her to be with Mandi.
A year later, I cheated on Mandi for the first time.
Six months later, I cheated on Mandi the second time.**
Six months later,  I cheated on Mandi for the third time.
Nine months later, Mandi and I broke up.
One month later, I strung Katy along subconsciously.***
Two months later, I began dating Meghan.
Four months later, we broke up for the first time.
One month later, we got back together.
Nine months later, we broke up for the second time.
Seven days later, we try again.
Three months later, we break up again.****

*this apparently is not how she explains it these days.
** the Jenna incident.
*** which I still feel guilty for.
**** refer to previous blog posts about this one.

And some people wonder why I don’t care for relationships anymore.

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About Robert L. Franklin

Ah, the About Me section - social networking's excuse for you sounding like an elitist prick. Hmm... what to say? What to say?
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