Not too long ago, I pondered my dating experience. I was trying to figure out where I’d gone wrong, why nothing I tried seemed to work out.
All the chicks I’d been dating were young, fun, sexy, smart (some more so than others, unfortunately), but they were also fucking crazy. Either they wanted babies, or to change me, or marriage, or bar hopping every night, or wanted to mess my life up as bad as they have theirs.
It was making me question my sanity. I mean, if every chick I date is nuts, maybe I’m actually the crazy one and everyone else is normal. Maybe they should be setting me up for the padded room for thinking I should be able to find a quiet, confident, sane, mature, smart, sexy woman. Am I setting my standards impossibly high? Should I settle for a fucked up chick instead of whiling away the hours writing on a stupid blog, that no one reads, about things that very few people think is entertaining?
And then I thought about it some more and realized that I’m not nuts, I’m just stupid. After days of pondering all these questions I came up with my Awesome, Epic Theory of Adult Maturity.
When I plugged my numbers into the Awesome, Epic formula I came up with this:
30 (age up to thirty)+10 (Length of longest LTR)+8 (Child’s age) = 48
That is an exceptionally high maturity level for my age, 32. So, all of these problems I’ve had with dating were because my maturity level is astronomically higher than most women my age. Our ages might be similar, but our life experiences are totally different and we’re looking for very different things. Continue reading