normal

“I’m not normal.”

I’ve said this one thousand times. Usually on first dates, because hey, might as well get it out there from the beginning. I’m not here to waste anyone’s time.

When it comes to relationships I have no clue what normal is. My first real relationship (if you want to call it that) started in college and ended in divorce, and in between those two bookends, it was filled with intense highs, devastating lows, drama, lies, and the kind of manipulation that would put Queen Cersei to shame. It took me three years to heal; I emerged even more naive than I was in the beginning.

Sadly, the more relationships I have gone on to have, the more screwed up I have become. Or, at least, I think I’m being screwed up. Again, I don’t know what normal is. I know I’m not supposed to be sad. I know it’s not supposed to be a battle every day. Other than that, all is fair in love and war… right?

Post aforementioned soap-operatic divorce, pre-healing, I threw myself into a relationship that I would look back on in the years to come and regret how unable I was to appreciate what a healthy relationship looks like. Hindsight is 20/20. Hindsite is also a bitch.

Three years later…

 There have been exactly two relationships I would classify as legit. The first destroyed me. On shaky baby deer legs, I opened up to someone else and subsequently got punched in the throat. Duly noted. The second I went into timidly, but after a couple months of dating, felt I could believe what we had was becoming something real. Enter: An impromptu temper tantrum in front of a crowd of people in which I was accused of being “a disrespectful, disloyal, blatant liar” for something I was completely innocent of. I couldn’t talk him out of it; I couldn’t talk myself into getting back into the dating pool for another six months.

I am Samantha’s Total Confusion.

Maybe not knowing what is normal is the new normal. And if not knowing what is normal is normal, than I am normal as hell.

Normal.

Yep,
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