Dig Baton Rouge

The Bitter Lemon

By Holly A. Phillips — @OrangeJulius7

A few weekends ago, my friend and I ventured to Gulf Shores for our second Hangout Music Fest.

I’d been looking forward to the sun, sand, music, vodka, and naturally, all the hot guys without shirts.

The fine creators of Hangout Fest announced that this year, they were offering weddings. That’s right, you could get married on the beach, complete with a Ring Pop and a three-day marriage license.

I was determined to find someone that I could call my husband — even if only for a weekend. Then, society would accept me given that I’d been married at least once, right?

So I was keeping my eyes open. I was averaging around 10 vodka-sodas per afternoon, when I realized my bartender was sheer perfection.

Cute? Kind of. Attentive? Yes. He memorized my order, and called me “Sweetheart.” That’s all I needed on a weekend like this.

His name was Barton; Bart for short. But Bart was working all weekend, and I knew he wouldn’t have time to pull himself away from the bar to get married to a patron.

I moved on (not from the vodka, of course).

On the final night of the fest, my friend and I were heading to see My Morning Jacket when we ran into a group of four guys all wearing the same baby blue t-shirts.

They were in town from New York for a bachelor party, and they had thick accents.

Doug was the one getting married; then there was Chad (married), Tim with a broken wrist (married), and Dan (single).

Hello, Dan.

They supplied us with more vodka, and we traded words to laugh at each other’s accents.

They joined us for the final show of the festival, Beck, and then we hit up The Pink Pony for shots and karaoke. When it was time to head home, Dan and I exchanged numbers. We’ve been texting off-and-on ever since.

I realized the other night, during a text conversation with Dan about the lyrics of “Blurred Lines,” that I’m a little bit of a sucker for guys that live far away. I’m not quite sure why, as I never think long distance relationships work out.

After all, there’s no physical relationship when there’s an entire wing of the country between us, but I like having someone to text with before I fall asleep or perhaps when I’ve had one too many vodka-sodas. I wonder if, on some level, I’m really not ready for a full-fledged relationship, so I go for a guy that is unattainable.

So I Googled, and I came across an article entitled, “12 Signs You’re Involved With Emotionally Unavailable People (EUP).”

It even has an acronym.

Upon reading the 12 signs, it appears to be true, as I’ve fallen for all of them: married, can’t commit, emotionally distant, mainly interested in sex, prefers long distance, abuses substances, are narcissistic, makes empty promises, etc.

Mind = blown.

I don’t necessarily think I’m emotionally unavailable (though that’s not out of the question), but I do believe I fall for men that are.

And there it is: I’m not quite as ready as I thought. Perhaps I’ve just got too much going on right now — work seems to take up most of my life. But when will things ever be in perfect condition for me to be in a relationship? Will the right guy coddle me into feeling emotionally ready, or do I need to work on my issues first?

I think the real question is this: does my health insurance cover therapy?

Read more about EUPs on Holly’s blog, TheBitterLemon.com.


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