It's a crash not a crush

Friday night. January. At home. On my couch. ALONE. I don’t know if I am more excited by the new episode of Friday Night Lights (darn that writers strike) or my first two movies from my new Netflix subscription – The Break-Up and Notes on A Scandal.

You see… I am hibernating. I am taking a break from life. Specifically my social life and any chance I could have at interacting with the opposite sex. If it was not completely freakish I would hang a sign above my head that says… Keep Out.

Over the past few weeks I’ve realized I don’t have crushes. I crash. Really crash and burn is more like it. And this recent burn was just the compounding incident that sent me over the edge.

A few weeks ago when I realized I was an accidental dirty mistress thanks to McDreamy’s lying, cheating ways I swore to my mom that I was done. Her hopes of ever having grandchildren were probably pretty close to toppling after that incident. But no… That very weekend I met someone. He was a friend of a friend. Highly recommended. Handsome, fun, smart, blah, blah, blah. A few great dates. Cute texts (ugh… I hate texts and I was still excited by these!). I hadn’t felt this hopeful since Brittney’s second attempt at rehab. Finally, I had met someone who had promise. There were no warning signs (namely no girlfriend, stalker tendencies, or abnormal attachment to his boys) he followed through when he said he’d call, he wanted to meet my dog (sigh)… Needless to say, I was crashing. Hard.

I think crush implies a slow process. Have you ever tried to crush a can? It takes some effort and is deliberate. People usually plan on crushing something. When you crush you make room for something else. How often do you hear of people being involved in crushing incidents?

A crash is quick, unexpected and unplanned. It takes your breath away and scares you a little. Your adrenaline flows and the moment or moments are relived over and over. Time is spent trying to figure out at what moment it suddenly happened. Crashes are dangerous. And my love life is never safe from the disaster that is a crash.

You know where this is going right? I crashed and now I’m feeling the burn. Over the course of a weekend I went from feeling giddy to grumpy. Mr. Eligible Bachelor went from dreamy to devilish faster than you can say Happy New Year. And the “happy” was most definitely missing from my Happy New Year. Could the cliché that she was younger and blonder really be any more annoying?

So this grumpy chik got herself a subscription to Netflix, is going to have the cleanest apartment in the city, put her new KitchenAid mixer to good use and tonight I might start working on the Keep Out sign for my front door.