reasons you should date someone else

I sit down to make make a PowerPoint of reasons you shouldn’t be with me.

To set the mood the title side has a few unflattering photos and a casual headline like:

“What’s Wrong With Me”

"Why This Is A Bad Idea"

or

“Reasons You Should Date Someone Else”

On the first slide I’d write DISORGANIZED ATTACHMENT in a bold font and surround it by a looping circle graphic. Words appear and fade in a dizzying pattern.

Fight

Flight

Freeze

Fawn

"Fine"

Fictitious

Feigned

Foreign

Fantasy

What do I need from you? Easy. Whatever you are not giving me.

The photo of my mother in the background of the next slide is an apparition behind a hazy word cloud.

sharp     unimpressed     guarded     

vicious     unpredictable     entitled

selfish    petty    disdainful    mean 

I pause the presentation and pull out a photo of myself.

Every year my face looks more like hers.

My head shakes with resignation.

I can’t help any of it.

Next slide.

Romantic History.

The following frames are formatted alike with a circular photo of one of my exes in the upper left hand corner and several lists below. Column A is bad behaviors of theirs that I ignored or tolerated. They wanted me to accept their flaws and I would not.

Column B is the things that annoyed them about me, like how I asked for what I wanted and that implied they weren't already doing everything perfectly which threatened their ego and I should have been more considerate and just pretended I was excessively satisfied.

Column C is bullet points of the things they did that annoyed me. You know those things people do where they just, like, exist? Tsk tsk. The atrocities I have endured.

The audio behind these slides is me gasping for breath as I remember what it felt like to be shackled by love & my commitment to these men who quickly became a quicksand of disappointment, a burden I crumbled under instead of carrying.

Do you hear that?

(I start quietly crying...)

Is that really what you want for me?

I thought we were friends.

Next I include a list of the awful things I said to them that I felt they deserved.

I'll let you use your imagination...

Think of something truly terrible.

What I said was worse.

Not just what, but the way I said it.

It’s hard to explain. Here, let me show you.

This section concludes with the things that have already begun to annoy me about you.

The list is unflattering and really says more about me than about you, so I spare you the details and just feature a tally counter which has gone up three clicks in the time you have been sitting here, a fact I now suppose you wouldn't have known if I didn't just tell you.

Sorry about that.

Next slide.

I find a photo of a crystal ball and map our future out around the perimeter.

At one o'clock we are drawn in Disney. My smile is impossibly wide. My eyes are a seductive squint, yours are plate-sized pin wheels, totally entranced. The animated trees sway around us. A whale leaps in the background. The cheerful clouds thunder applause on this joyful union and it rains in rainbows.

At two o'clock we are magnetic cake toppers, me in a poodle skirt and you in a powder blue suit. I lean towards you as you lean away and when you lean in I lean back. And if we touch in the middle isn’t it exciting? Repel and attract. Attract and repel. Couldn't you play this game for hours and hours and weeks and years?

At three o'clock we hold hands and stare ahead 59 years, imagining the park bench that cradles our aging bodies just as you have mine all these years. It is a nice story because love triumphed and love was all we needed and love was better than ice cream and love meant our lonely days were over and life was like a song.

At four an X marks “you are here” and shows a live stream of you sitting here viewing this presentation. Really. You turn and scan the room for the camera. You are confused by your staring role and sense a turn of tone. The dread that rises from your gut tastes like bile. You are starting to understand that I’m not, in fact, selling you a timeshare.

I'm leaving you.

Well, trying to, anyway.

You can thank me later.

If we push on past five (don’t worry, I won’t let us) the cards flip one by one.

Six

Could you teach me to loosen up?

I’m more uptight than ever.

Seven

Can you show me how to be free in my body?

I sit with arms crossed glaring at you from the corner of every room.

Eight

Can you help me be messy?

I chase you with the dust buster

I make you shower before getting into bed, wash your hands before touching me

I recoil from your beard with a mask of disgust

I refuse to get in your car, tip of my nose lifted

A waterfall of disapproval beats down on you from my mother's narrowed blue eyes

Nine

Everyone you tell me you’ve been with is kindling under the log cabin of our fantasies. We are adults. Why should your history hurt me? I proudly rode in on brilliant white mount, mane and tail flowing, now I lead yellowed nag to a back pasture with a fraying rope. That's my way of saying you have been irreparably sullied in my eyes. Good luck looking in the mirror now.

Ten

Occasionally I call you names as we fight like fire.

These are the best of times.

Eleven

I make comments so underhanded that you spin, fists up, unsure where the punch that just landed came from as I raise my hands, pleading innocence, smirking privately as you lick your own wounds.

Twelve

Most often my body slightly stiffens beside you. Subtly as a light breeze I drift away, never to fully return. Soon there is little more left of me than the puppet strings you help pull. My head is flopped to the side, square jaw occasionally cracking the nuts of my scripted lines.

Aren't we happy together? Are you happy now?

You, precious, delicate you.

(You poor, unfortunate soul)

At this point in the presentation I stop myself from reaching forward to cover your eyes, to shelter you from the dark tentacled thing that rises from the corner and quickly fills the screen, drawn by the scent of the the tiny sea scum that I reduced you to, sideways glance after pointed comment.

Run, you fool.

(You were warned)

Does everyone have such a sea beast lurking in the depths of their heart?

Mine relishes this release.

The water dripping from the corner of the screen onto the keyboard widens the crack and breaks into a steady flow. The floor floods as the circuits cackle their death rattle.

You are shocked.

Now that the dam of your illusions has fallen I can breathe again.

Fully animate and larger than life, I slither through the frame of the computer. With my tentacles now unfurled I can easily crash down the walls around us. There’s a happy gleam in my eye. A slimy, suctioned muscle wraps around you and tightens. My mantle arches in ecstasy. Your feet kick jubilantly. This time for sure you were wanted by me.

Radula exposed, I feed freely on you. Sex was always a cheap substitute for this. I cradle your head as your body convulses, your wide eyes taking all of it in. You taste like freedom. Not a drop of blood touches the ground as I gorge.

"Do you see me?" I probe at your glassy eyes.

"Do you love me now?" I ask your corpse.

I tremble with exultant aliveness.

Next slide.

Back in my human form, I clear my throat twice and daintily wipe my face, feeling for chunks of flesh. As discreetly as possible I check my teeth for stray sinews, straighten my glasses, adjust my collar, and smooth my skirt. My Mary Janes squish out water as I shift my weight.

Ahem, I continue to an audience of no one.

"Thank You For Coming To My Presentation" the side would have read if the computer was not shattered.

When the stage lights dim I can see the biohazard team taping tarps on the walls. The perimeter is already fenced. Crestfallen, I voluntarily retreat into my cave to meditate for another eon. That's just long enough to believe it could be different next time, long enough to forget the beast that always gets the best of me.