Right after we split, I really didn’t think I’d want to see him again. But then I did. I was confused and didn’t know what to do.
There was a little voice inside of me. And then another. And another. And another. The only one that made sense was the one insisting that I eat more French fries.
These voices came from four highly opinionated body parts: my brain, my gut, my heart and my vag.
These crazy bitches bark orders and advice at me incessantly, often at the same time. They are all saying something different, and sometimes I’m not sure who’s saying what. It can be quite maddening.
“Go out with Fred again, he’s hot and funny!” Wait… is that my brain talking… or my vag? I really want to go out with him again, so maybe it’s my gut. My heart jumps whenever he calls… so maybe it’s my heart talking. Shit, I don’t know.
Let me introduce you to the players:
I’m a cerebral chick, I know that. I always want to make the right decision but never know what it is, so I think and think and think until my eyeballs bleed. And then if I ever do make a decision, I’m never sure if it’s the best one, so I think and rethink some more.
I implore you, lobotomize her immediately and put her out of her misery.
Sometimes she’s afraid to speak up, largely because my brain often tells her what an idiot she’s been in the past. Nevertheless, when she does speak, she speaks volumes.
Folks often say, “Follow your heart.” And despite all the risks this might involve, somehow, I still want to believe it. And it’s why I gave Tom a second chance.
This little bitch always gets me into trouble. When she gets lonely, there’s no telling what she’ll do. I think it’s fairly common knowledge that the best decisions are not made by your hoo-ha — but she’s crafty.
She talks to the other organs while I’m not looking to try and sway them over to her side. She’s very charismatic and persuasive — much like Jim Jones, or Dakota Fanning.
She’s also a master ventriloquist. She’ll say something and I’ll swear it’s my brain talking. Gotta keep an eye on this one. When she doesn’t behave I’ll sometimes threaten another Brazilian wax, but she remains undeterred.
One day, my gut says, “Leave Tom! You don’t have anything in common and it’s just wrong!” The next day, she says, “Don’t dismiss it so fast! You have a great connection and he’s an amazing guy!”
Very rarely do I experience an overwhelming “gut instinct.” Sometimes I think I do — but it changes by the hour. How can I trust my gut when she’s so damn wishy washy?
I have always envied people who can make a decision on the spot and never look back. Perhaps their brain, heart, gut and vag all get along and make a team decision. Or maybe one of them is the captain and always calls the shots.
But mine just can’t seem to get their shit together. I’ve got the Bad News Bears playing inside of me and we lose every time.
The Scarecrow, the Tin Man, the Cowardly Lion and Dorothy searched all of Oz for these four items. (In the original version, Dorothy asked the Wizard for a vag. That’s why she’s so popular with the gays.)
I want to tell them that these organs really aren’t all they’re cracked up to be. In fact, they can have mine — I’ve had enough.
From now on, I’m leaving all my decisions up to my buttocks.
What do you listen to most when making relationship decisions? How is that working out for you?
Categories: Something is Wrong with Me