It’s been one of those nights where you’re home alone and you start flirting with the idea of potentially taking a romantic outlook on one of your coworkers. That’s only since I seem to have only spontaneously realized today that several other peers had commented ever so ambiguously regarding our proximity – of which I honestly had worked hard on with all my fellow peers as it is one of my worse human concerns (i.e making friends) and evidently did a convincing job of being a social butterfly with everybody. Just sometimes the opposite sex may happen to take it differently, and I wonder in the same stretch of mind whether I am really that dull or commitedly naiive. It seems I have learned no social cues whatsoever from highschool. However, as a rude awakening, regardless of which insensitivity level I may fall too, both are completely plausible with the rather too bubbly personality I put up at work. Otherwise I’m just a half-witted arrogant doorknob in the latter case. That would be fine too, at this point any straight number would do.

The sad thing about this is that while I may have been fantasizing innocently in my head the idea of taking anything further, the first thing that comes into my head is that “I am not a good person.” And this is digging into the intrinsic idea of a being a partner and holding the capacity to fully receive and give compassion. All the while, the spontaneous image spurrs in my mind of this perfectly nice young man either asking or defending me consciously in my head, since of course it makes no sense. It never did, and yet I would still rigidly stick to this all too familiar answer. I’m sure if I did a word search on my blog it would pop up shamelessly.

Why am I not good enough?

You tell me. Better yet, throw some psychological phenomenic vernacular – verbal garbage in other words – at me and throw me off. That way I might just take the longer route before my brain arrives at the exact same illogical conclusion. It simply was the first generated answer, and all the proceeding defending statements came along with it – like obviously I would be in no position to be codependent in a relationship. As well I would not be able to handle a normal sex life between the intense curiosity and the self-imposed moral code. All abouts, I would find a plethora of ways to hamper myself down. I just feel half the time I am telling the truth, and that makes me sad just as much as that scares me.

To be perfectly honest, I’m starting to think that this statement is something of an odd defense mechanism. I have ever only been intimate with partners that I myself had initially felt attracted to, in which case the barriers of feeling expressively inferior fell. Or at least fell long enough for me to step into the landmine of obscene and impulsive love. Cue the love is a battlefield. Though once this mind field gets started, all the guards are up and about again and I develop the beautiful habit of self destruction.

Tonight, spending my evening browsing youtube as I assume we all automatically do when home alone, we all have to admit that you inevitably end up on the weird side of things. So I happened to watch this messed up documentary of a predator-middle-aged-mother, more or less sexually adopting a 16 year old boy into her home as a partner, and my mind was purging consistent bafflement – mostly because the writer in me was way too intrigued on how someone could possibly capture a character as inescapable as that. I mean her answers to the reporters questions were perfectly inane. It was too perfect for the portrayal, in ridiculous senses, but that’s beside the point. It was only then that I realized not too long ago I was involved in a less criminally offensive affair with a man that was almost twice my age as well. Of course I am advocate for the good riddance of age, but here I am judging this 16 year old with a 38 year old woman, and I was 18 speaking to a man of 32.

Not only that, but as my relationship with that man had progressed, my vices would blow up in alarming speed. I think my self-image took a nosedive for the waters of no good and inferiority. So I guess the only difference between taking that same defensive nose dive with people that I may not be entirely drawn to, is simply the timing and just a subconscious awareness to not take the long road to the same “I’m not good” position, since I wasn’t even that drawn to in the beginning? And in either cases, the concluding and ever exposing verdict never changed – I’m a bad person.

My goodness, the longer this self condemning exercise is happening, the more I am happening to feel like a criminal. These midnight rambles have got me stumped. Sometimes I think it might just be easier to call my train of thoughts a contemporary psychological thriller/disaster and leave it at that. Hollywood has been running out of ideas anyway.