Sorry, I am a little bitter.

Throughout high school, I semi-dated a guy (for the sake of routine, we will call him ‘Wet Blanket’). Wet Blanket was kind of rugged and a little full of himself. But, I liked him. Why? Because he was nice to me and no one else mattered but me in high school. He never treated me extra special, in fact he did not give me anything for my birthday, and kept juggling me and three other girls like a circus freak.  It seems unhealthy, but I was learning. And learning takes a few a-holes.

Come graduation, he moved to the air force for four years. There was a going away party for him and his three girls he had been juggling all throughout high school were there to say goodbye. We all pretended we did not know. I said goodbye to him outside of his parents house and I drove away, watching a dark tall and awkward silhouette of him wash into the darkness.

I got into my car and willed myself to cry. I squeezed my eyes shut, looked longingly into the cornfields passing me by, turned on Carrie Underwood Don’t Forget to Remember Me. I did everything I could to just…pinch…out….that…little….tear…

Nothing.

Liking him was not even natural.

But the pattern continued; every time he would come back to visit I would go back to him. My dating schedule with other guys in college would perfectly coincide with Wet Blanket. When I was single, so was he. And I would go running back to him. I felt like I wanted to. I thought I felt it in every fiber in my body. He was cute, he had weird social habits, he was the Justin Bobby of my life. But as soon as I did go running away?

I would drive away, emotionless.

True to form, this pattern came full circle and happened recently. But I was excited this time. All of the time away from him and all of the heartbreak I had previously served in another relationship gifted me with a big pretty bow in Wet Blanket form. We hung out a couple times, our chemistry was off the chain (yes, I just said off the chain). Flirty banter, soft hand grazes, hugs that made our shoulders contract and fall like butter on toast.

And within a week, he was dating a “fox named Courtney.”

Regardless, I walked away from the battle relationship unwounded. I didn’t care. No tears, no emotion. A comfortable void of nothingness. But a new emotion budded from this result thanks to Wet Blanket and his new chew toy: frustration. In myself. Why would I let something like this happen to me again?

After four years of ignorance, when can I authentically realize to drop it. I’ve had numerous friends tell me he isn’t good enough for me and I wholeheartedly agree, but why do I keep turning back?  Is he as much as a wet blanket as he is a comfort blanket? I know you’re probably thinking – comfort blanket?

This dude forgets to give you a card on your birthday. And I get it. But I don’t get why I dated him, ever saw him either, so stick with me here. We all make dumb mistakes. Think of Wet Blanket like a Krispy Kreme. Yah gotta have it and once you sink your teeth into it:

Insta-regret.

Why would I want something so rancid and vial, so many times? I’m not tied up, but why can’t I move on?

We all make mistakes in life, and whether or not we learn the hard way, maybe it takes a couple more to drill it in. Or maybe it takes a better experience to trump the last sour one and that is the only thing that can turn your head forward. Instead of always going back to your past, dive forward and move on as much as you can. I’m beginning to really believe we can draw in the relationships we crave and get past the ones we ultimately regret in the end.

Relationships should at least make you cry during a Carrie Underwood song, because then, maybe, you’ll never learn.