Posts by feralharbor13

You ever get this vibe about people, or just about the world in general? Or maybe it’s just my specific circle. It feels like most people I know are totally obsessed with these random people who aren't even a concrete part of their actual lives... everyone’s got their own little fixation.
For instance, my sister spends her entire life following these influencers on social media. She can spend an hour straight rambling to me about some Frenchwoman, how she decorated her house, what her kids are up to, all that junk. Then there's a friend who lives for sports; they know everything about the athletes, watch every single interview with Roger Federer, knows exactly where he played and who he played against, and tracks the ATP rankings like it's their job. My dad is retired now, so he spends his whole day glued to the TV talking about Zelenskyy, Putin, Donald Trump, and various generals. One friend follows those foreign talent shows like *America's Got Talent* and knows every winner, every judge, and every bit of drama. Another friend is obsessively binge-watching series; she’ll recap every plot twist to me, and just when she finishes a season of The Price of a Maid, a new season of some other show drops and she’s right back at it. It makes me stop and think: why on earth would I need to know any of this? What does any of it have to do with me, our relationship, or our actual lives? So much space taken up in people's memory banks by people who don't matter. Participants on *American Idol*... so what? What is a person supposed to do with that knowledge? Honestly, I’m pretty deep into my own stuff—I read books, for one—but even then, I feel like that’s a better use of time than watching influencers or tracking what's happening in Ukraine. I honestly find myself getting lost whenever I’m in a group setting, especially with people I barely know. You’ve got one guy talking about reality TV drama, another on politics, someone else on series, someone else on influencers... and you walk away feeling like you didn't even connect with anyone because they barely talk about themselves. They actually bond with each other easier because there's a higher chance they'll find common ground over Federer or an HBO series than they will hearing about books or an analysis of Master and Margarita.

Thanks for all the advice and the answers.
I want to share something else—it’s a bit personal, but I really need an outside perspective on this.
I’m just not a super sexual person. It takes me a long time to actually get intimate with someone and feel comfortable. Most guys seem to expect things to happen within the first month or maybe by the second or third date at the latest. Honestly, I just feel this massive sense of shame and awkwardness being intimate with someone I barely know. It sounds crazy, but I feel more embarrassed stripping down in front of my own mother—the woman who literally raised me—than I do in front of some guy I’ve only seen a handful of times. But apparently, when I set those boundaries, they just label me as "frigid" or asexual. Maybe it's how I was raised, or maybe it stems from a traumatic memory from when I was a little girl; I came home early from school one day and walked right into my parents having sex, totally naked in the middle of the living room. That image stuck with me for days, and it took forever to push it out of my head. I didn't even lose my innocence until I was 23. Almost every guy I dated had an issue with me because they wanted more sex—more passion, more "kinky" stuff, oral, trying different positions or locations... I found out later that most of them were cheating on me because they weren't getting enough satisfaction, which just made being intimate with them feel disgusting. I couldn't stop picturing them in bed with other girls. To be blunt, I’m also terrified of STDs... if I'm not 100% certain we are in a monogamous relationship, I just can't let go. For instance, Peter had absolutely no problem having sex with me while his brother was right in the next room. It made me so uncomfortable; I was constantly holding back, terrified he'd hear us. One time he even walked right into our room, and it was mortifying for me, but Peter was totally fine with it, acting like it didn't matter because he knew what we were doing.

I think I’ve always gravitated toward the introverts right from the jump. Don't get me wrong, they weren't bad guys, they were just... different. I'd definitely be drawn to someone unique, but man, I’d struggle to keep up with their pace every single time. Most of them were those total extroverts who live for the scene—always out at parties, surrounded by crowds, hitting up concerts or clubs... whereas I'm the type who honestly prefers my own company most of the time. My only regret is that I always seemed to be such a buzzkill for them. They were the kind of people who could find joy in the tiniest things and see beauty everywhere. We could just sit in a Starbucks for coffee and they'd be perfectly happy; they wouldn't even notice if there was a crack in the wall, a dirty table, or if the menu had some typos in the descriptions. Peter, specifically, was just so full of life and lightheartedness. He’d get as excited as a little kid every time he saw a dog or a cat on the street, or whenever he picked up some candy or chocolate. And then there’s me, coming along and bitching about how pissed off I am that they tore down that historic mansion to build some generic high-rise, or how they only bothered to fix the front facade of the Capitol building.

I always end up subconsciously comparing our relationship to everyone else—like my parents' marriage, his parents', or even celebrity couples. It’s constant. We’ll be watching a movie together and I’ll just sit there thinking, "God, this couple is so much more in sync than we are." It gets so awkward that I actually start avoiding certain scenes when he's around, like when a couple kisses or has sex. If it's some rich actress living in Manhattan, I start spiraling, thinking about how this guy fell for her, while my boyfriend is stuck with me, working an average job and barely scraping together enough cash for a weekend trip to the lake. Or sometimes it's the opposite: I see this girl in a movie get swept off her feet, taken on trips to New York City, and bought a luxury car, while my guy won't even take me to Silver Lake because money is tight. It creates this massive wave of insecurity in me. I find myself dodging romantic movies or avoiding hanging out with other couples altogether. Like if we go out with his friend and his fiancée, and they just bought a house or got back from a trip to Paris while we're just wandering around local parks... it sucks. Then there’s the situation where a friend wants to meet him, and I introduce them, and she starts bragging about how her boyfriend is taking her to Berlin, how he proposed, handled all her visa paperwork so she could move to Germany, and landed her a killer job there. Meanwhile, I can't even take my guy out of the state, let alone help him with a career. So then I try way too hard to be interesting or funny to make up for it, but deep down, I just feel inadequate. I'm terrified he'll leave me, or worse, that I'll lose interest because he wants to go to a Rozga concert and I just can't deal with it. I'd have to lie to my friends about where I was just to avoid looking like I'm not into that scene. The alternative is telling him, "Look, I really don't want to go to a Rozga show or a techno club; I hate that music," but then that works against me. He ends up going without me, which happens a lot, and it's incredibly painful for both of us. My first boyfriend was a total rocker—always at concerts, always at parties, always hanging with the rock crowd. I loved him, but I just wasn't that type, so he’d go solo. He'd be out with his crew and their partners, and when someone asked, "Where's your girlfriend?" I was just sitting at home because I never went out with him. We were together for years like that—he did his thing, I did mine. We didn't even celebrate birthdays together; he'd party with his friends and then we'd grab dinner the next day. Eventually, he dumped me because he realized that even though we were in a relationship, he felt completely alone. He wanted a girl who would actually ride with him and want to be part of his world.

I honestly don’t get people... I look pretty good for my age—definitely younger than the calendar says—and I don't feel the need to put on some fake persona. I just show up as myself. I’m straight up about who I am, what I bring to the table, what I’m looking for, and yeah, even my flaws and weaknesses. Most people out there dating today are just playing characters. They inflate their egos, exaggerate how great they are, hide their baggage, or straight-up lie about things. It’s exhausting. I stay spontaneous and real, and honestly, people usually dig that. I actually know how to pay attention and listen... but eventually, my mind starts wandering. You can tell exactly when someone starts losing interest, when they start dodging you or pulling away. Or, on the flip side, they become incredibly needy, blowing up my phone constantly. Sometimes it feels like they're just performing. My focus shifts elsewhere, and before you know it, we’re basically strangers living in the same house. I’m in my own little world, he’s in his, and we’re talking past each other. There’s this massive disconnect, this feeling that someone is sitting right next to you but they're miles away, impossible to truly reach or understand. It always ends the same way: either I lose interest and end it, or he leaves me, or he starts cheating because my drive just tanks. The sex is great at first, but then it gets boring and predictable. Suddenly, he wants more and more, and it starts feeling like a chore—like some obligation I have to fulfill just to keep him around.

You hit the nail on the head. I’ll be the first to admit I can be pretty negative. It’s like my brain just naturally gravitates toward pessimism or spiraling into anxiety. I’m constantly worrying about my own health, or the health of my family, and sometimes even the massive global disasters you see on the news just totally wreck me. Plus, I have this one specific quirk that drives me absolutely insane: this obsessive need for everything to be perfectly organized and symmetrical. Like, if my space isn't visually "right," I lose it. I go way overboard—I’ll spend forever color-coding my books on the shelf or lining them up by height just so it looks decent. And don't even get me started on the chaos in the real world that I can't control. It drives me nuts when some random eight-story apartment complex gets slapped in the middle of a neighborhood where every other building is a two-story house, just sticking out like a sore thumb. Or when some ugly billboard gets put up right in front of a gorgeous historic building, completely ruining the view. I’m always thinking about how much better things would be if they just fixed the streets, or renovated the local parks, or finally tore down those eyesore illegal constructions. I catch myself daydreaming about these perfectly manicured, orderly cities, and then I get pissed because things aren't like that here. Most people don't even notice. They honestly couldn't care less if a building's facade is rotting or if the city bus is filthy... they're either too caught up in their own lives or they just don't have the eye for it.

That’s how I get hooked initially. It starts with some guy, and suddenly I’m scrolling through his old photos. Like, if I see a shot of him as a kid visiting Egypt, I’ll end up falling down an internet rabbit hole researching those exact spots. Or I’ll see photos from his parents' wedding and wonder which restaurant they used. Then I find out that specific place doesn't even exist anymore because it was torn down ten years ago so some mobster could build himself a private villa, bulldozing a local staple in the process. And just like that, I’m spiraling. I start ranting about the corruption in this country, the organized crime, and how messed up society has become. I fall into these traps all the time. I’ll be thinking, "Man, Peter is such a great guy," and then immediately get pissed because I didn't meet him five years ago when I used to love this amazing little bistro downtown—except they shut it down because the owner was a political dissident. Then my brain goes on a tear about the state of the nation. Or I start stressing over how I’m ever going to afford a house, especially with the inflation and the financial mess we've been dealing with since the pandemic hit. I get way too deep into that anxiety. Then, say my boyfriend trips and breaks his leg, and I find out my cousin—who was a top-tier orthopedic surgeon—moved to Germany. He tells me all the best doctors have left the country, and suddenly I’m terrified. Like, if something happens to me, who the hell can I actually trust to operate on me? Or I go to the dentist and they do a hack job, so I go to a second one, and that dentist is just like, "Who even did this? They had no clue what they were doing." It honestly scares me. I feel like our healthcare system is just a gamble because every doctor has a different story and you have no idea who to believe. It’s overwhelming. I’ve completely stopped watching TV and reading the news because it’s just too much. Too much negativity, murders, rapes, some singer cheating on her boyfriend... you won't believe the nonsense Madonna said recently. It’s enough to give anyone a headache. And honestly, if I’m being blunt, sometimes I feel smarter than most of the people on the front page of the news talking about where they bought their shoes or what they’re cooking for their husbands. It feels like pure stupidity is being used to poison the public. So, Peter will suggest we go to a club where Taylor Swift is performing, and I’ll just lose it. Like, am I really supposed to sit there for three hours listening to Swift just to please him? What does she even have to say that’s worth hearing? Or I’ll catch some talk show with actors, singers, and socialites, and the sheer amount of vapid nonsense coming off the screen makes my head spin. I spend the next few days fuming about what kind of trash our TV networks are pumping out, thinking that if I stay with him, I’ll be stuck watching Kelly Clarkson’s talk shows forever. Then comes the guilt trip. I’ll think about how the guest on the screen is actually more interesting than my own boyfriend sitting right next to me, and I’ll feel like I’m in the wrong relationship. I’ll feel terrible for him. I'll think, "Unlucky Peter brought me into his life and he's trying so hard, yet I'm more interested in some celebrity on TV." It makes me wonder if I'd be happier with someone else.

That’s a hell of a question to chew on... honestly, it probably just comes down to what kind of people they are and if they’d actually be interesting enough to keep my attention. I spend a massive amount of time spiraling into these deep, isolated thoughts—like I’m the last person left on Earth or stranded on some desert island starting from scratch. I get lost in all this heavy stuff about the Garden of Eden, Adam and Eve, the first sin, Cain and Abel... I’ve always been obsessed with those kinds of stories and all that intense symbolism. Then, usually, Peter goes and screws me over, and suddenly I’m spiraling into thoughts about Sodom and Gomorrah, being cast out of paradise, or diving into Dantean Inferno to map out which circle of hell everyone belongs in. I’ll jump from thinking about the betrayal and massacre of the Romanov family to analyzing the infidelity in Anna Karenina, or even scrolling through some celebrity scandal like that Severinian affair on a yacht. Poor Peter—he was trying to have sex with me twice a week, and apparently, it just wasn't enough for him. When my relationships start hitting the skids, I get so stressed and scattered that I just retreat into these different personas. I find myself wondering how much chaos Anna Karenina felt, or how Jennifer Aniston must have felt when Brad dumped her for Angelina. Then I’ll end up watching Friends—I haven't even watched it in ten years—while Peter is at home crying, begging me to make up, while I’m totally checked out, losing my mind and obsessing over the tragic downfall of Romeo and Juliet or the Odyssean betrayals in Troy... meanwhile, he just wanted some attention and a girlfriend who was actually present and warm. My exes were all pathetic; they’d all fall into deep depressions trying to win me back, but once my heart sinks, I just build a wall around myself. I'll spend an entire month straight researching the history of global fortifications and how many layers of walls Constantinople had before the Ottomans finally broke through.

It takes a lot more than just a little bit of distance for me to actually miss someone... I’m talking deep nostalgia, longing, that heavy sense of yearning. If something—or someone—is always around or constantly in my orbit, I'm not going to miss them. You need absence. You need that gut feeling that time is moving on and they just aren't there anymore. So yeah, whatever, I rarely tell guys "I miss you." If we saw each other yesterday or even the day before, I'm not gonna say it just because people think it's some romantic necessity. Usually, I don't start missing my exes until a few months after a breakup hits, when I get hit by a wave of sentimentality or life just pulls me in a different direction. Like, if I'm sitting on a beach somewhere, maybe down in Malibu, and I suddenly wish he was right there next to me... then I guess I miss him.

Look, I don't feed my ego and I sure as hell don't go hunting for validation from other people—which, honestly, feels like everyone else's entire personality these days. We’re living in this massive culture of ego-stroking. That’s why social media is such a circus; all those selfies, the desperate hunt for likes, checking follower counts... it’s all completely irrelevant to me. I don't care about posting my own life on socials (I have a few accounts, but whatever), and I definitely don't spend my time scrolling through them. It's mind-boggling to me how people sit there for an hour straight on Instagram, obsessing over who went where, what someone ate, or where some influencer is vacationing. Most people just function like that now. To them, I'm probably boring. And when it comes to relationships? My idea of an ideal connection is seeing each other maybe three times a week. Everyone needs their own space. I want two independent people who choose to be together because they actually enjoy it, not because they're codependent. But the guys I deal with? They always want these suffocating, symbiotic setups. They want us together every single day, doing everything together, acting like I don't have a life outside of them. It's like dealing with a toddler who throws a fit if Mom isn't home from work right on schedule. I've had guys literally cry on me because I suggested we wait three days to hang out. They act like I don't care at all, or they start hallucinating that I'm seeing someone else. It’s especially pathetic when it happens at the start of a relationship. Like, seriously? I've known you for twenty days and you're already acting like you can't breathe without me?

Most people honestly just bore the hell out of me. I’ll be sitting in a restaurant, grabbing coffee, or traveling, and I can't help but think: My God, these people are sitting here rambling about absolute nonsense while Leonardo da Vinci was busy painting masterpieces and Dostoevsky was pouring his soul into books that actually gave something to humanity. And what have these people contributed? Absolutely nothing. So yeah, people don't exactly adore me either. They see me as cold, distant, and totally unapproachable.

I tried the whole college thing, but I always struggled. I just get way too obsessed with things; once something catches my eye, I dive down the rabbit hole until I know everything. If it’s history, I’m deep-diving into some historical figure's entire biography. If an era grabs me, I’m researching everything from the fashion and culture to the specific flags used and the symbolism behind the colors. It was a mess back in high school because I was interested in basically everything except the hard sciences. Choosing a major was a nightmare. I kept switching paths because everything felt too shallow or boring if I couldn't obsess over it. Picking one thing and sticking to it? Impossible. And get this—you don't even get English Lit classes at most universities unless you're specifically an English major, and I live for books. So, I’d be sitting in class, reading something incredible on the side, and realize the book is infinitely more interesting than the lecture. Naturally, I’d fail my exams because my mind was elsewhere. Long story short, I finished a degree, but now I’m stuck in a job that doesn't make me happy at all. My lack of focus has wrecked a lot of my relationships, too. It’s pathetic, really. I’ll run into a friend I’ve known for twenty years, and after thirty minutes of listening to her drone on about her job or her family or just basic daily nonsense, I suddenly realize how much she's actually boring me. Honestly, I’d have been better off staying home with a good book. I can barely force myself to see people once every few months. To me, most socializing feels like a massive waste of time. I hate that mindless "how are you" and "what's new" small talk. Like, why am I sitting here listening to someone recap their life when I could be learning about the rich history of England or France, or diving into Greek mythology? People started avoiding me, or I just pulled away myself. Now, I’ve got maybe two people I can stand to see, and even then, I have to dose it out. Socializing for too long just drains me. If I go on a five-day trip with a group, I’m the one bringing books or hitting up museums while everyone else just sits there acting like they aren't even there. I was always the black sheep, both in my family and in school. Kids used to mock me because while everyone else was out drinking, blasting pop hits, or hitting the clubs, I was busy researching dinosaur evolution, the development of Latin, or ancient Celtic influences in the Middle East and their animal symbolism. It’s hard to find anyone who actually wants to give me a chance. After three or four hangouts, people realize I don't party, I don't care about clubbing, and I don't listen to mainstream music. They just decide I'm "boring" and move on. Even dating was a disaster. Every guy I dated either cheated or was texting other girls on the side because they felt invisible when they were with me. Almost every single one said the same thing: "When I'm with you, it feels like I don't even exist." Then I feel guilty, so I try to pour all my energy into the relationship, but I can only hold out for about a month before something else becomes more interesting again. And then, we break up.

Honestly, this whole thing is such a massive issue for me because I’ve been wired this way for as long as I can remember. I live in Washington, D.C., and even if I’m just walking from my place toward downtown, I’m constantly obsessing over the buildings and the shops I pass by. I’ll see a building and immediately think, "Okay, this went up in this specific year," or "A famous American author used to live right here," and I’ll spend the rest of the walk spiraling, trying to imagine what their daily life was actually like. And don't even get me started on when I travel abroad. If I decide to visit a place like Italy, I turn into a total history nerd. I’ll spend months deep-diving into everything about the country. I'll obsess over the Roman Empire, then the Roman Republic, then the life of Julius Caesar, the architecture of the Colosseum, the movement for Italian unification, and even the psychology behind Benito Mussolini. I'll end up binge-watching their films and researching the entire history of Italian cinema, or looking into Romulus and which years certain battles were won. Then, I’ll sit down in some restaurant in Washington, D.C. to order food, and I see "Lasagna" spelled as "Lazagne" on the menu, and I just lose it. Like, how could they possibly write "Lazagne" when the correct spelling is clearly Lasagna? Who is even writing these menus? Why don't they hire someone who actually knows the language to get the names right? Back in the day, I would have actually sent them an email to let them know they messed up. Lately, though, I've just given up. I realized I was getting way too caught up in all the drama, and after sending countless emails to various organizations and people trying to fix everyone else's mistakes, I realized it's just not worth the headache.

I want to get this off my chest, and I’ll try to keep it brief, but why does every single one of my relationships—every attempt at one—just crash and burn? It always comes down to the same thing: my introversion and my damn analytical brain.
Take this guy, for example. Let's call him Mark. We go out on two or three dates, and I actually like him. He’s good-looking, charismatic, he wants a serious relationship, he shows interest...
And that’s exactly when my brain starts spiraling. I’ve never dated a guy named Mark before... so I start thinking about Mark Twain... then I get obsessed with reading his stuff. Or maybe Saint Mark... so I ask him if he’s ever been to Venice. I love visiting Venice. Then I start planning this massive trip because I’ve been there a bunch of times but never with a boyfriend. For the next two weeks, I’m deep in a rabbit hole researching Venetian architecture, the history of the Republic of Venice... You see how it goes. Suddenly, I realize I’ve never actually followed the Venice Film Festival, so now I’m binge-watching award-winning movies from the festival. Why did this movie win over that one? Let me check out the rest of the winners... I end up heading in a hundred different directions, and I give the actual guy almost zero attention. He eventually pulls away, or I catch him cheating... which leads me to start buying books on the psychology of infidelity... "Wow, this psychologist is brilliant, let me see what else he’s written," so I buy his entire bibliography. Meanwhile, the guy feels like I’m not even physically there. He ends up looking for an exit from a relationship where he's miserable because while he was trying to build something with me, I was busy analyzing Venetian cinema, history, psychology, and the life of Mark Twain.
The next guy is named Peter... nice name. Like Peter the Great. I suddenly decide I really want to visit St. Petersburg... and then I remember I haven't read Anna Karenina in ages, and since I loved that book, I start reading it. It blows my mind, so I decide I need to tackle War and Peace, so I start watching YouTube reviews of the book. "Man, this reviewer is great, she recommended some works I might like," so I head to the bookstore to pick them up... The setting is in Norway... Now I’m interested in Norway and Scandinavian mythology. I buy an encyclopedia on Norse myths. Then I remember my uncle moved to Norway to live, so maybe I should visit him since I’ve never been... And of course, Peter leaves me too. It’s the same story with every guy I've ever had. They all reach the same conclusion: "I wanted you, I wanted a girlfriend, I wanted love and attention, I gave you chances, I stayed, but you were lost in your books and your own thoughts... you're frigid, we barely have sex." That's just how my brain functions when I'm alone. I'll watch a play at the theater and immediately start dissecting the performance, the acting, the actors' biographies, the costumes... Why on earth was this actress cast? She's terrible! Where are the better actors? Then I get interested in the theater itself, drama, tragedy, comedy... I start reading about ancient Greek theater, researching the history of ancient Greece, reading Antigone and The Odyssey, pondering the meaning of life, time, immortality, symbolism... It holds me back from socializing, too. When people are talking about everyday stuff or normal problems, my brain just drifts off. I start thinking about stars, galaxies, geography, history... wondering if I should just stay single or find someone just as weird as I am.