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.

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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.

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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.

Fake numbers, no responses, and other shit these lesbians are pulling...

I once wrote a blog post called "The Stink of Failure," but it had little to do with failing. It was really about trying new things, having guts, and making a change. After recently becoming single again, I've been taking my own advice, and most things have worked out pretty well. 

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Confusing Signals

The results of online dating have sucked so far. First, there was a girl we'll call Katie. We exchanged texts and emails and finally met for coffee. The date went really well—we talked, laughed, and had plenty to say for over two hours. At the end, we hugged, and she said, “Let’s do something again; I had fun. Text me that you got home safe.”

Like a fool, I did exactly that. I texted her that I made it home safely, had fun, and looked forward to hanging out again. Her response? I’m still waiting. Thanks to iMessage and the “read message” notification, I know she saw it. That was five days ago.

A few days later, I met some friends for a few beers. A girl at a neighboring booth struck up a conversation with me. With a little alcohol in my system, I was funnier and definitely more attractive than usual. As we all prepared to leave, I asked for her number. She smiled, wrote it down, and said, “That sounds like fun.”

Two days later, I called and got the voicemail for a guy who works for Consumers Energy. I double-checked the handwriting and my dialing—it was a fake number.

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What the Hell Is Going On?

So here’s my question: What in the blue hell is going on?

To the first girl: It’s fine if you're not interested, but don’t give confusing signals. I get not wanting to reject someone to their face, but a better option is not to say anything other than “Thank you,” and I will get the hint.

To the second girl: I had three beers but was by no means hammered. Is a fake number really better than saying you have a boyfriend? Or, even easier, just don't initiate the conversation in the first place.

The obvious issue here is that all these goddamn lesbians are leading on the straight men. Go play some softball and knock that shit off.

Why "Perfect on Paper" Doesn't Work

My friend is a stand-up guy—a successful man who works hard for his family. On paper, he hit the jackpot with his wife: she's beautiful and comes from a wealthy family. It all makes perfect sense, like a financial statement written in cursive. Yet, watching him, it's clear that life isn't a spreadsheet.

I recently found myself in a similar boat. I met a woman who, on paper, was a slam dunk: low-drama, attractive, kind, and considerate. She had everything I thought I wanted, but for some reason, the chemistry just wasn't there. At 31, I felt the pressure to "buy in" and settle down, but no amount of mental gymnastics could make it work.

In the past, I’ve definitely been a victim of "good enough." I stayed in relationships that weren’t making me happy just because an attractive woman was interested. As a friend once wisely put it, "You start ignoring red flags, and one day you look down and you're standing on a huge pile."

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The Blame Game and the "Spark"

So, why do we stay in these situations? And why do we blame ourselves when a seemingly perfect relationship fails? I felt guilty that I didn't like my ex as much as she liked me. I've been ruined by the few times I've felt that unmistakable "spark"—that lightning-bolt moment when you meet someone and everything just clicks. Your heart races, you blush, and you start fantasizing about a future that includes this new person.

But when that spark is missing, we often fall back on old habits. We get lonely and question our own worth, thinking, "Why would anyone else love me?" We go back to bad relationships, conveniently forgetting the pain and romanticizing the good times. We choose the wrong people because we know they'll accept us, even if it means more pain down the road. We basically go back for seconds and ask, "Thank you, sir, may I have another?"

The bottom line is this: If the spark isn't there, don't cling to the hope that it will magically appear. You owe it to yourself to believe you're worthy of a relationship that ignites your fire and brings out the best in you. It can be a lonely road, but you deserve more than settling for "good enough." You deserve to be decent to yourself.