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When I was little, my mum would buy me Ken Dolls so that my Barbie’s had some company. But they never lasted long. At the same time as I was introduced to plastic men with no genitalia, I met mini explosives and discovered that putting powder into Ken’s head and watching it reach for the stars was much more entertaining than anything Barbie could come up with.
“Why don’t you make them set up a house, like a normal child?” AM asked.
But even as a five year old, instinct told me that the blonde girl who moonlighted as a doctor/lawyer/teacher/astronaut/and fashion designer didn’t have time for the beautiful man with no balls. So I let her enjoy short-term mini relationships until Ken went to a better place.

As an adult, I have [for some reason] packed away the explosives but continued the practice of saying Good-Bye to pretty boys. Sometimes it is just a matter of pointing in the general direction of the bus stop while I roll over and dream. Other times, it has involved tears and an airport. For every time in between, I have diluted my feelings of disappointment that He is leaving for a better place and decided that This must be normal.

When every person you have loved or had a [major] crush on has left the country or state, you start to wonder if it is You.
“If you want to get deported, date me!” was my pick-up line for a while.
“Having every boy you fall for leave the country is the geographical equivalent of turning a guy gay,” I told my boy friend. “You can’t touch him and he has gone to a place of better fashion.”
When The Only Boy I Have Ever Loved returned to Los Angeles, I was simultaneously devastated, jealous and heart-broken. It was an explosion of emotions and I had no idea how to deal with it.
When the next guy moved to Texas, presumably to blow shit up, I channelled my past and held my head high. By the time the next one returned to his own Southern Californian dwelling it was like watching the same episode of “Beverly Hills” on repeat and I was bored.

I recently met the Prettiest Boy In The World [official name] mere days before he planned to leave the state.
“He has probably been procrastinating for years,” I hypothesized to boy friend. “But then he met me and, BAM, a decision was made.”
I started to think that, maybe, customs entry forms ask people if they like little blonde girls who have the desire to make-out all day long.
“Brilliant!” The man at the desk could say, slamming stamps on everything official. “Enjoy the Gold Coast until you meet Her and decide to leave.”
“You’re like the Microwave Relationship Wonder Kid,” my girl friend tried to comfort me during an existential crisis that involved theorizing the repercussions of calling in a bomb scare at the local airport to prohibit flights. “Two minutes and you’re done!”
I took comfort in the fact that my emotions can be likened to noodles, rolled over and dreamed of the days when it was just a toy pretty boy I was eradicating.

Sometimes We take people for granted. A never ending possibility can quickly equate to never realizing what You have. If someone is just There for the foreseeable future, I see little point in cherishing their brilliance, as evidenced by the fact that I have never fallen for someone who will be in my presence for the foreseeable future. Instead, I prefer to look at the silver lining of an otherwise disappointing situation, and realize that a short amount of time makes you feel lucky for having any time at all. A mini relationship forces you to appreciate every moment and use it to its greatest capacity.
“You’re just trying to justify the idea of having sex all day, every day, for a week because you won’t be able to come next Monday,” boy friend scoffed at me.
“I fail to see the problem you are having.” I rolled my eyes and started dreaming about what such a week would be like. (Aside: brilliant.)

I frequently witness people in long-term adult relationships who have forgotten how lucky they are to spend time with someone they truly like. Days become filled with knit-picking and hypochondria rather than explosive sex and stuff dreams are made of.
“What if He [/She] isn’t around tomorrow?” I want to ask them.
“What if you didn’t have this security?” I want to know.
And, “What if you actually had to put in effort again to find someone to have sex with?”
I never want to expect someone to Just Be There. And have theorized that I am practicing perfectly to make sure that will never happen or be normal.

Prettiest Boy In The World [official name] left my house and I returned to my life moonlighting as a mature/functioning/reasonable adult.
After an hour, I turned off the cartoons because I remembered that I didn’t have to feel disappointed and I do know better.
While I may have short-term mini relationships with brilliant people, the longest relationship I have is with myself. And it will always be around for me to blow up.

Mentally, I had moved to a better place.