Reviewing Past Relationships and What Went Wrong (Me?)

The following is a revised version of the text, with improvements to grammar, flow, and clarity.

The Mormon Conundrum

I'll start by saying that Mormons are, in many ways, much better people than I am. They're kind, polite, don't drink, and are generally nice to others. Sure, they have the stigma of "magic underwear," but honestly, if you had to be surrounded by a group of people different from yourself, you could do considerably worse than the Mormon population.

That said, they can be a bit of a drag. When I say "drag," I mean it in the nicest way possible. They don't drink, gamble, swear, or have premarital sex—all things I happen to enjoy. This isn't a problem until you realize you live in a city that has more Mormon residents per capita than Salt Lake City, Utah. For someone like me, who lacks a moral compass and a general sense of right and wrong, the fit just isn't there.

---

A Dating Retrospective

So, how does this apply to my dating life? I've had a lot of time on my hands (see above), so I decided to map out my main relationships on a scale of 1 to 10. The scale is as follows: a 1 is someone who is completely and utterly "marriage material" but boring as hell, while a 10 is a crazy train who is a ton of fun but would never meet my mom.

---

The Rankings

Destiny: 1/10 It's unfortunate that I was married to her for three years. She wasn't mean, but she also wasn't nice or affectionate. Sex was a chore, as was being married to me. She's married with a kid now, so I assume someone managed to get her drunk enough to make it work once.

Trey: 9/10 Damn, Trey was hot. I'm not, but she somehow decided to sleep with me. She was a dangerous combination of "being hot, not knowing how to have sex, and hating her life." She was also kind of mean, demanding, and not afraid to express how unhappy she was at any given moment. Did I mention she was so hot?

Barb: 4/10 Barb also hated me, and to complicate things, she disclosed an STD early on. That doesn't make her a bad person, though. Honestly, this was soon after my divorce, and I was a complete mess, so I didn't handle it well. She was a nice person. I just wish she hadn't told me about her STD over breadsticks at Olive Garden.

Heidi: 5/10 I never really figured Heidi out. She had kids and liked to have sex with me—and her ex-husband. She was beautiful and fun and continually made it clear that we were just a "thing." I think I was just a thing to her, which sounds nice in theory. I got attached, she bailed, and then she'd pop back in whenever she wanted sex again. After six short months of meaningless sex, I half-heartedly put an end to it. (See? I'm a terrible person.)

Kristen: 6/10 I liked Kristen, but she was really, really dumb—not in a "needs to experience life" kind of way, but more like a "she ate paint chips as a kid" way. Kristen adored me but was too similar to my ex-wife. She didn't have an original thought in her head, did what her parents told her well into her late 20s, and had no ambition. But she was fun, and if I weren't me, it might have worked. But I'm me, and it didn't. She married a 300-pound truck driver and seems happy, and that's not a joke—it's a fact.

Jessica: 8/10 Things got intense fast with Jessica, which I mistook for the real thing. She loved drama and cheating on her husband with me. In a different world and time, it might have worked out with Jessica. (Update: I recently tried again with Jessica and remembered that she majored in drama. When things are exciting and scary, you tend to ignore those red flags. Did I mention I'd probably never trust her?)

Jill: 9/10 Jill got me, which scared the living hell out of me. She was funny, beautiful, and a hell of a lot smarter than I was. I attribute our failure to bad timing and me being an emotional post-divorce disaster. I liked Jill a lot, and my mom would have, too. But Jill moved across the country, and we never spoke again. It was probably for the best.

Shannon: 10/10 Shannon was a badass. Fun, sexy, smart, and she could read me like a book—which absolutely terrified me. I loved Shannon, and she loved me back. We were going to be together. So what happened? I guess I happened. This one still causes a little pain in my stomach. She's married now, and I truly hope she's happy.

The problem with Shannon wasn't her; it was the pathetic guy who writes blog posts ranking his exes.

Dating Diary: I Once Dated a Barb (Who lived up to the name)

After things ended with Jill, I spent a few months collecting my thoughts and trying to figure out why I had been such an ass. That's when a friend introduced me to his coworker, Barb. She was 29, a working professional with a serious demeanor and a bitchin' old-school Mustang convertible. I'm not even a "car guy," but even I had to admit it was a sweet ride.

After the initial meet-and-greet, we decided to get drinks. And this is where Barb earns the honesty award.

We were two beers into our second time ever hanging out, and everything was going well. I was sober, and I think she was, too. Apropos of nothing, Barb blurted out, "Umm, it's not like I have HIV or anything, but I do have herpes."

My brain went, "Hmm..."

Listen, there's nothing funny about having an STD. Nothing. But it was certainly an interesting time to tell me—over drinks, when the only physical contact we'd had was a handshake. And let me be clear, I'm glad she told me—good for her. I also give her credit for the opener, "It's not like I have HIV..." because when you compare herpes to that, it doesn't seem as bad.

No one ever really trains you how to respond to a statement like this, especially when it comes out of the fucking blue. As I racked my brain for all the info I retained from high school health class, I sputtered out the only response that came to mind: "That's cool, dude." I'm sure that was ultra-reassuring.

Barb and I

Barb and I dated for a few months, but things got weird when we got physical. I wasn't 100% clear on the "rules" of having sex, given the circumstances, and neither was she. I feel like I would be crystal fucking clear on the limitations of herpes sex, but that's just me.

Our physical contact was limited to hand jobs, which I gathered she hadn't done much. I came to this conclusion (and believe me, it was the only time I came with Barb) because it was so painful. She violently tugged and pulled on me like she was playing foosball. When I gently suggested, "That feels good but...could you try doing it like this?" I was told it made me a "world-class asshole." She later yelled at me, "You should be grateful I'm touching you at all!"

And just like that, I finally understood why Barb was single.

She later apologized, but this rocket ship was plummeting toward Earth in a hurry. Since neither of us knew the physical boundaries and anything with our hands was off the table, we dry-humped a lot and were both left unsatisfied. The breaking point came when she suggested we have sex and that life with herpes "wasn't that bad...if I just got used to it."

That was too much information for me to process, so I decided to put the relationship out of its misery. Deciding to catch an STD seemed like a bigger commitment than I was ready for.

Maybe I handled it incorrectly, but I learned one important lesson: those health classes from high school were fucking useless.