I got all “crazy girl” and did a drive by.

October 13, 2010 § 1 Comment

I had been dating this guy. Average guy. Not really thinking much of it other than I enjoyed his company, and although I wasn’t really looking for anything serious, I decided to take what came my way. He wasn’t even that cute, that attentive, or that well endowed, but all of a sudden he quits calling cold turkey and I am completely crushed. As if his balls were Godiva truffles. I am now convinced I have just been rejected by the man with milk chocolate balls. My imagination is a flurry: why would he reject me, we were having such a great time? I consider myself a pretty cool chick, and we weren’t even dating long enough for him to really get repulsed by me, my bad habits still cleverly disguised. For all he knew, I was a smart, sexy 26 year-old female, what’s not to like? I repeat: What’s not to like? My anxiety over this swells. The condition sets in. I have developed: The Crazy Girl Syndrome (CGS).

CGS is very common among women who are self-proclaimed “independent, strong females” as they tend to reject the fact that they too, need to be loved by a man. This is to not be confused Idiotic Bitch Disorder (IBD), which is a chronic condition and usually occurs in dumb sluts who wear a lot of pink, love anything covered in rhinestones and require a more than average amount of attention. CGS may affect a normal well-adjusted woman turning her into a irrational psychopath who can’t help herself. This woman will not rest until she has confirmation that the chocolate balls are no longer interested by no fault of her own.

My case of CGS came about after several failed attempts to lure the boy back with basketball and rock show tickets. It’s totally true that you always want what you can’t have, and I am defiantly a woman who usually gets what she wants. As my CGS progressed to the next stage, I found myself settling in a full-on stalker mode. This goes beyond light Internet stalking. I was checking facebook compulsively, following on twitter, looking for him in my rearview mirror, watching his away message on AIM, all the while convincing myself that I was fine with my obsession, that it would pass. Denial of the condition is quite common until you have to hit rock bottom.

So there I was, on my way home when decided I should stop by to see what he was up to, I was in the neighborhood, right? Wrong, I was not even close to his neighborhood, and what did I think I was going to find? Was he going to be sitting there, full on Casanova chocolate balls ready and waiting for me? It was too late to rationalize; I had turned onto his street and slowed to pedophile speed.

Once CGS is in your system, it is best to let it run its course.  When a woman is deranged, she becomes obsessed with the chase. If she actually acquired what she was perusing she wouldn’t even know what to do with it. In fact, she probably won’t want it anymore at all.

My “drive by” concluded with me almost knocking on the door. That’s right, parked the car, walked up the front steps, got nervous and walked away only to talk myself back into it. The moment right before my fist struck the door, I was able to recognize exactly how ill I was. Why did I care so much? Truth is: I didn’t, what I cared about more was being rejected. I reiterate: I’m smart, sexy, 26 year-old female, what’s not to like? Becoming aware of my condition prevented me from busting into his house unannounced rating about my chocolate craving, which would have been mortifying to say the least. Shortly after, my CGS subsided and I was able to move on and realize his balls were just as sweaty as the rest of them and stopped into a chocolatier to celebrate. Best three dollars ever spent.

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