Nobody puts baillee in the corner

(This title is derived from a song used in Stranger Things, so now that I have proved my social relevance, you have to keep reading.) 

This post started out as something monumentally different. It was a quaint and endearing post about having chemistry with people. It sweetly explained how you sometimes can’t shake the connection you have with certain people. It was bullshit. 
I sat on it for a long time (much to my best friend Kara’s dismay) and kept making excuses about how I didn’t have an ending for it. Well, that’s because I didn’t have the next hunk of the story until right now, and quite frankly, I still don’t have an ending.
Like most writers, I never learned how to properly deal with emotions, so instead, I’m going to publish my private thoughts on the Internet for the whole world to read in the hopes of making some sense out of all of the crazy, jumbled up feelings I currently have swirling inside my head. For any of this to make sense, you’ll first need some context. 

I have always made the first move when I’ve liked someone. Not as in, I’ve flirted back or initiated a hangout (which I’ve also done), but rather, I’ve always been the one to throw Lo out the “I like you” first, and every single time, without fail, it has never ended in my favor. Thus, after my stint with a young lad I’ll only refer to as Twitter Dude (aka the guy who rejected me in 140 characters or less), I made a pact with the universe, God, and everything/person in-between that I would not make the first move anymore. What could possibly go wrong? (She said sarcastically in order to move the blog post along). 

Well, here we are, eight months later, and I’m in a very sticky wicket. I’ve come to realize I don’t ever make the first move in a hopeful way, but I actually use it as a crutch to facilitate my rejections. By prematurely throwing out the first “I like you,” you don’t have to completely eradicate the preposterous idea that someone is going to apologize to you after a fight by singing “I Love You, Baby” complete with marching band a la Heath Ledger in 10 Things I Hate About You. You don’t have to deal with the cyclical side of the relationship because you don’t make it to the relationship. 

For the past 24 years, I’ve been coasting on the principle of get while the getting is good, so I make the first move. I don’t trust my gut. I throw too much of myself into something too fast. That’s why I vowed to be the cool girl (in a hopefully non Gone Girl way). I’ve flirted, pushed people away, and calculated moves. I’ve done some things I’m not proud of the past few weeks, and I’ve done some things I’m really proud of myself for doing. I’ve matured on several levels, but I’m too damn old, at the ripe old age of 24, to be waiting and hoping and playing psychological and romantic warfare. It’s fucking exhausting.

But here I am in the thick of a sticky wicket. My head and my heart can’t agree on anything, (so my stomach has gotten involved, and it doesn’t seem too pleased either) but I refuse to fall into another “I like you” trap. I will not do a single thing without full affirmation that someone likes because I have spent too many days trying to come across as aloof via text message and too many nights trying to analyze what each little thing means. I’ve been trying to figure out whether or not to throw out the romantic rules I’ve lived by, if there is such a thing as a good second chance, and if The CW would want the rights to some of the teen drama-esque moments that compromise my life. I’ve even attached meaning to certain songs that come up in my shuffle. Most importantly, I’ve held back immensely, but I can’t anymore without exploding like a Sanderson sister. (And yes, I know Winifred turned to stone, but my heart has already been hardened by old age, thank you.) 

I’m two days from retirement and too old for this shit, so I’ll leave you all with this: I won’t wait forever.