There is a scene in some movie that I now don't remember the name of, where this prying, social-skills-lacking, intrusive, neurotic (yet lovable) post office worker is having an intense conversation with his work partner, played by Claire Danes, I believe. He says something to her along the lines of, "What gives you the right to be so self-righteous! Look at yourself - none of your relationships ever lasted for more than two months. You just pick up and leave every time!"
I mean, basically he was implying that she might have been somewhat shut-in and, perhaps, promiscuous in her personal life and that denied her the right to pass judgment on him. The part that struck a chord and made that movie conversation particularly relevant to me is that the man never explicitly accused Claire Danes of sleeping with those men; all he said was that her relationships never lasted long - but the promiscuity implication was undeniably there, in his gestures, in his eyes.
That kind of bothered me because lately, well.. for the past two years, I haven't really dated anyone for more than two months. Right around that two month mark, one of the two things inevitably happens - either I lose interest in a guy, or he loses interest in me.
The thing is, though, out of those six two-month relationships over the two year period, I'd only slept with two guys. That's one guy per year. That is not promiscuous, at least, not according to my standards. But I can see how, to an outsider or simply someone who doesn't know me so well, those six brief relationships, intermixed with a bunch of others that consisted of a a few dates here and there, could have been implicitly equivalent to the amount of people I had slept with in the past two years. That would roughly make it 10-12 men in two years.
I mean, who knows what people may think of a 24-year old woman who's been essentially single for the past two years but who's dated around a lot during this same period of time. But, really, I don't feel any guilt towards having a long list of short relationships. They didn't work out - end of story. What I am slightly concerned about is the kind of image I am imposing on myself.
Which brings me to my next point - The Neighbor and I have called it quits. Yup, at the two month mark exactly, we came to a mutual conclusion that it is no longer viable for us to continue this, increasingly passionless, relationship.
I'm sort of glad that it's over, and I'm definitely glad that I didn't sleep with him. At least we both had the decency to conclude our relationship with a conversation.
"We can still be friends. If you need someone to go to that football game in November, just let me know - I can get cheap tickets. And you should come to my birthday party this weekend, if you don't have any other plans. I'll call you and let you know the details about it later on in the week," he said as he was leaving my apartment.
He, indeed, sent me a text message a few days later with a formal birthday invitation, but he never called. And I never went to that party. I watched that movie with the post office worker and Claire Danes, instead, which in my opinion, was a far better way to spend my free time.