It's Not Who But When

So it's been decided. No longer will I search, scour, sleuth out the "one" for me. No more Dream Man. No more Mr. Right. No more soul mate who will complete my very existence and make life forever enduring and bearable. Just one day, I may be walking down the street on a snowy afternoon or reading a book on a park bench watching puppies play with their negligent and baby ridden owners, and it'll happen. I will be ready to settle. I mean, settle down.
Whoops. Truly though, some dude will pass by when my brain and heart have met each other and decided to make friends and that will be that. No hunting, longing or failure. It'll just be timing and maybe that's the truth. Maybe it's not the perfect dream boat with the toned body, heart of gold, and wit to match his washboard abs that will catch my eye. I will just be ready for commitment, stability and love. I tend to skip steps. I skip because I don't believe those I skip with are worthy of anything more from me. That is somehow such an absurd and awful thing to admit for the skips I step are often the only ones that make any difference and matter the most. What's even worse is the value I place on odd things over my own body and safety. I was "obligated" into bringing this dude home the other night. His friends had ditched him and his only option was to come and crash(oh, there would only be sleeping) at my abode or...sleep on a stoop. It's funny I didn't see the third option at the time...I don't give a fuck where you rest your fatness cuz I'm going home to eat pizza in my awesome apartment and pass out with a smile and pepperoni on my lips...I was hungry. Sigh...so being the weaker sex in all the wrong fucking ways, I trudged him home with me. What I learned though was quite the valuable lesson...I place no standards on personal space. It was an odd lesson cuz I always felt that entering the Rhandi bubble took time, effort and lots of flowers. Not so. I was more traumatized by this fat and hairy backed beast sweating on my freshly washed blankets with his hippy swass and touching his mouth to my water bottle with his...gulp...mouth, than I was by his constant advances towards my tits and ass. His inept persuasions to remove apparel fell so short that I'm pretty sure I heard his penis retract into his body...not that it had far to go and that was the end of that. I sent him on his way the next day with "Well, you've annoyed me for long enough, time to go," and the lesson was indeed learned-Love and Respect Thy Self regardless of anyone else and their conception of my ebbing kindness. Also, I've seen porn stars, honest to goodness PORN STARS wear condoms and you're telling me that I don't have enough self respect and body consciousness over safety to allow you to perform(I'm sure) delightful moves you've learned from the Yukon on me sans rubber? WHO DOESN'T WEAR A CONDOM IN THIS DAY AND AGE? I mean seriously, you're a dude. You're whole existence stems from you're level of bonerdom and you don't just have them with you? This was only discussed by the way, as I was stalling and hoping for his brain to just shut down and leave me alone. I mean, no chub means minor brain function, correct? You know like amoebas in the split second their not consuming protein? It sounds like I hate men. I do not. I learn about myself by way of their stupidity. I am also coming to terms with the fact that they are all the same and that's ok cuz I don't need to be a part of it. After a sleepless night of hiding my valuables and thinking about hygiene, I woke with a profound appreciation for my physical self and soap. Surely invented by a woman.