I’m going on one hour of sleep here.

When I was in law school, they used to tell us that laws were like sausage: you were better off not knowing how either one was made. Well, lately I’m wondering if the same is true about me. Maybe people are better off not knowing so much about my inner workings. Rather, maybe I’m better off with people not knowing so much about my inner workings. Because my current theory is that the more that someone sees my insides, my fears and doubts, my fucking humanity, for chrissake, the more uncomfortable that person is with the idea of getting close to me. That’s my current theory.

Sure, people read this blog, but I’m wondering if they do so for the same reason that people stop and stare at mangled bodies being toted away from crushed automobiles. “Wow, that Jeff… he’s pretty fucked up. Glad I’m not that bad.”

It’s funny, though, because I always thought that by expressing my humanity, by being willing to share my fears and doubts, it would make it easier for people to become close to me. People would say, wow, here’s a guy who’s not afraid to admit he’s flawed, just like me, and I like a guy like that. But maybe I’m wrong. Maybe people want to read me but they don’t want to date me. Which sort of throws a wrench into my dream of both being a writer and settling into a long-term relationship with someone.

I’m sure I’m overreacting. Those four guys who have told me, you’re a nice guy but I don’t want to date you? Three of them I’ve met in the last six months. And recently I’m getting to know another guy, and I’m waiting how long it’s going to be before the whole thing happens again. And I don’t know what I can do to prevent it.