So you guys know that feeling when you haven’t had sex in months and begin to question your whole life up until this grizzly point? I’m totally kidding, that is NOT how we are launching into this.
Summer ’17 — what A DRY summer for you, my devoted readers (dry also being a teaser of things to come in this only kind of depressing blog post).
I know what you guys are thinking… how busy could you fkn be that you can’t write a single fkn blog post, SAM? Instead of using my usual excuse of being “abducted by aliens”, I’ll tell you the cold hard truth: while I’m not fending off calls from various sup-par male suitors or trying to maintain my monthly income by juggling 3 very unsuitable (and unstable) jobs, I’m developing an app, writing a fkn script, and trying to come up with a pseudonym to release my EP under… SATISFIED??????
The EP pseudonym is a lot harder than you would think. On this road called life, which I fill with doing random things before I die, I’ve decided to write and release an album. The only problem is, I’m like nervous about it, because no one really knows that I’m into that. I’m afraid of the unrealistic backlash I’ve made up in my own brain. It goes like this!:
“LOL did you hear Sam Yoannou thinks she’s like… a singer or something now? What’s that about? She’s 25!!! SO OLD. And I heard she’s also sooooo lonely! And lame, and has a weird shaped vagina, and like THINKS she’s funny, but is actually so god damn dumb and obnoxious, and on top all of THAT, she thinks she can WRITE SONGS like LMAOOOO this chick is a fucking IDIOT! This is SO out of left field! Pull up her Facebook profile- ohhhhh my god she’s such a joke. Ha ha ha ha. Alright I’m bored of her — Jenny, did you bring the vape?”
As I’ve said many times about insecurity, it is VERY narcissistic to think that anyone cares about you enough to develop the kind of in-depth opinion you think they might. Which is why I’m obviously just going to release my album anyway and fuck the haters — BUT I need a sick pseudonym that is super over the top like SAMANTHA STARSHIP, or ENDORA, or SAM MOTHERFUCKIN’ KEYS, so that people know that I know that I’m like… a random singer.
^^^ This is just me divulging my insecurities to you so that I can relate to you, my readers. It’s a “writers tactic” to draw you in, something I learned when I got my degree from the University of Toronto in Writing and Rhetoric. Wasn’t that cute? Do you guys feel the love? Ok, now to what this blog post is REALLY about.
I have not had sex in MONTHS.
—Sorry I LITERALLY just had to pause writing this to Google if I had a brain tumour because I keep getting bouts of deafness in my left ear. If anyone knows what this is about, or is a doctor, PLEASE Talk Smack to me. I am only accepting medical advice through this blog regarding my possible brain tumour, because my doctor already thinks I’m a huge joke and I have a crush on him. — Lol if I were reading this blog, I would write in and say “IT IS NOT A TUMAH!!!” But that’s just me. —
ANYWAY, where was I? Oh right, this blog post is about how I’ve learned to be celibate and alone. Lol alright, now that I’ve given away the punch line… I guess I’ll just dive right in!
2011: I was dating my first boyfriend (you guys remember River, the drug dealing heartthrob who would break up with me every time I went to my cottage instead of staying in the city to be his sex slave in the York Mills Collegiate parking lot. Good times!), River taught me about love (a conditional thing only given when I’ve been good!), companionship (two people fighting every day), sex (something that only works half the time when your boyfriend feels like choosing you over cocaine!) and codependency (a rule in life where once you’ve been with someone, you can never unlearn it, and thinking of not being with someone is just like… totally insane and unfathomable and also unacceptable and you will be apart of a unit from now on, blah blah blah this is all to distract you from the fact that it means YOU HAVE BEEN BRAINWASHED!!!)
I continued in this state for years, and I couldn’t get out of it. I was always used to having either a boyfriend, or at least someone to text, something on the go, someone on the back burner, you guys catch my drift. I’ve only had two serious boyfriends (get ready for this SHOCKER, River didn’t count!) After River and I broke up, I started seeing Alex Metcalfe — (OMG GUYS. THAT REMINDS ME! I NEED TO TELL YOU THE MOST INSANE STORY!!!! But I’ll save it for the next post. All I’m going to say now is… this story is about DIVINE INTERVENTION……cliff hanger!)
After Alex Metcalfe and I were broken up for like, two weeks, I met Stew. And then Stew and I were broken up for like…a month before I started seeing someone else, and then two months after that I met Alex, the love of my God Damn life who I engaged in a 2.5 year SAGA with! That whole back and forth lasted until last August, and then something weird happened:
September came… and I had no one on the go. JESUS CHRIST, I thought, WHO AM I WITHOUT A MAN TO COMPLETE ME? Jk, I didn’t think that, but I sure as hell felt it. Like I was LOST. No one to text, no one to call at the end of a drunk night, no boy to occupy one or two nights of my week, no one to… LOVE. Times like this are usually when I would whip out the whole “call one of my exes” card— but I’d already done that SO many times, it’s like either shit or get off the pot. And I chose to get off the pot. Naturally, I panicked. I had not been like… really ALONE, or really single since before I started dating (a time I passionately refer to as The Wonder Years). I imagine I looked like:
I accepted dates from random men I kind of knew I had no interest in? And then I’d like, be all upset when I didn’t like them? I’d say things like, “Oh my god, will I EVER love again???” “Did I make a terrible mistake?” “Why aren’t I happier!!!” “I’ll just go out with him one more time… maybe I was being too judgemental the first date.”
Every romantic endeavour I took part in basically blew up in my face. They either never even started because I wouldn’t be able to bring myself to go out with them in the first place, or they would end quickly because my tolerance for anything stupid is at an all time low, but I didn’t WANT my tolerance to be low, because I didn’t want to be alone, but I’m older and smarter now, so it just IS lower, which means I’m more selective, which means I’m more lonely, and I have my brain getting into fights with itself that go like:
“OH MY GOD, just GO OUT with him, or sleep with him or SOMETHING, you’re so picky. You’re a born again virgin because you’re so picky.”
“I don’t want to!! THIS ISN’T PICKY. THIS IS BEING SMART. THIS IS STANDARDS! Do you want to end up with how we were before?”
“I’m just saying, you never used to have this much trouble finding someone.”
“Yeah because I was stupid and would date like…ANYONE! I couldn’t see ANY red flags! That’s bad! It’s like when you hear about those people who have strokes and lose their ability to taste, which besides being tragic, is also actually really dangerous because then they can’t taste when food is expired or poiseness!”
“Whatever, you know what I mean. Ignorance is not bliss anymore, Sam! The times are changing bitch! You need to get your act together if you’re going to meet Mr. Right. Don’t you want to have kids?”
“Wait, WHAT? I thought we decided we ARE down to have kids…”
“Oh… when did we decide that?”
“When you were holding Leslie’s baby on the beach in 2011 and you were like, ok fuck it, I want kids.”
“I don’t recall that… maybe it was you who thought that…”
“WE ARE THE SAME BRAIN”
This whole thing continued until… well it’s still happening. At first, it was loneliness, and I saw myself as pathetic. I pictured my ex-boyfriend banging a bunch of girls and, (get ready for another pretend insecure scenario my brain made up): sitting in a bathtub full of nude women — like that big bathtub in Scarface? See below for reference:
And talking on a rotary phone like, “Oh my GOD BRO, since Sam and I broke up, I am BALLS DEEP in ladies. The grass TRULY IS GREENER on the other side my friend! Ha ha ha. Yeah, I don’t know what she’s doing… heard she’s like a desperate single loser or some shit. Not me! I’m doing GREAT! Alright, gotta go, Helen’s about to give me a toothless blowjob because I’m a giant weirdo who could only get toothless women into my bathtub.”
^ That fantasy clearly took a turn.
After a lot of months, my inflicted loneliness evolved into the choice of “being alone.” This has liberated me from so many falsehoods that always dating someone had taught me:
- Since I’ve been ok with being alone, I don’t make drastic decisions in the name of having someone around. I don’t date people I wouldn’t normally date, just so that I have someone to date. I stayed in multiple relationships for too long, because I couldn’t even fathom leaving them, or being alone, or WHAT I would do from there. I always said with my first boyfriend, when the long distance got hard, if I could take a pill that would make me not care anymore, I would. That’s kind of a bad sign, because I wasn’t staying with him because I wanted to, I wast staying with him because I was scared of how I would feel if I didn’t. I don’t waste my time humouring situations that are destined to fail, because I don’t care. I’m not thirsty. Similarly, now that the shock of having sex every day with my boyfriend to NOT AT ALL has gone away, I don’t care about that anymore either. It used to make me sad, and now it doesn’t. I’m truly… free. Because I don’t care and I mean it. I don’t care about being alone, I don’t care that I’m not sleeping with anyone, I don’t care if I meet someone this year or next year, I just don’t care. I. AM. FREE.
- I’ve actually been able to focus on other things and see them as important, if not more important, than who I’m dating. I feel passionate about things that always took a back seat to LOVE. I’m developing an app right now, and I actually think it makes me AS HAPPY that I am building an app, as it did when I was in love. Everything I do means MORE, because it’s all that’s important to me. I see my friendships differently as well, I don’t take them for granted as much. I’ve always measured life or memories in who I was dating at the time. Nights I met boys were good nights. Romantic nights were good nights. Now, any night I’m having fun is a good night and it’s not conditional on if I meet someone or have sex or whatever. I just have good nights with my friends and I don’t consider something not worthy or a fail if it doesn’t involve romance.
- Maybe this is a young thing, but I feel like whenever I’ve been in relationships, I always change a little bit. Not in a bad way, just to appease my boyfriend or something, and I feel like I’ve never liked myself more than when I’m alone. I like how I talk, I like how I act, I like what I care about, I actually think what I think, and I trust myself to take care of myself. Like I feel COOLER, if you catch my drift, dudes. I like coming home to my apartment after work, alone, and making food, and going to bed, and I just feel like a grownup who takes care of herself and gets shit done.
I’m not AT ALL SAYING I want this dry spell to last forever, or that I wouldn’t like to be in love or maybe, Idk, have sex ONE TIME before the ball drops for 2018, but I am saying I think this time alone has been ABSOLUTELY CRUCIAL in terms of clarity for like… who I am… who I chose to date next… the decisions I make in this precious time in my life, not hindered by anyone I care too much about (that I maybe shouldn’t care too much about).
So, if you find yourself in a dry spell, know that you are EXACTLY WHERE YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO BE. Grow from it. Embrace all the GOOD that comes with it. Don’t sell yourself short and end up in a dumb situation in the name of being with someone! And just think, one day you’ll be married, and sleeping next to someone basically every night until one of you dies, and that’s like… so much more fucked up.