The extent of my romantic ineptitude cannot possibly be overstated.

This post is cross-posted on BlogHer.

I've been in Los Angeles for six years now (yes, counting the years represents a total fail on a New Year's Resolution), and in that time I honestly believe that I have made almost entirely poor romantic decisions. I mean, six years of almost total fail.

I didn't listen to friend's good advice when I was too naive to know better. More recently, I listened to friend's bad advice when I knew myself and the situation better.

I have made decisions based on laziness. I have made decisions based on fear. And not even fear of being alone. That's at least a common, understandable fear. Oh no, it's much more neurotic than that. A blog post for another day, perhaps.

Anyhoo, here I am. I find myself a free fish, let off every hook. My heart's still hung up at the moment - on a never-blogged, so don't even try - but that switch is bound to flip eventually even as I irrationally fight against it. The heart says, "But, but, but"; the mind says, "Shut up! Shut up!" (The body says, "You guys are killing me.") So, free then. Me and my stupid heart.

Have learned A LOT. Like, A LOT a lot.

But I can't help wondering if (fearing that), despite all I've learned, I'll just blow it again.

I mean, here I am in a new day. New strengths and knowledge. Almost available for new romance. What if six years from now it's twelve years of bad decisions?

I find it rather staggering that in six whole years no one has loved me and that I haven't forged a partnership anywhere near those of my teens and twenties. Yet, looking back, it's been one bad decision after another since I moved to the La La.

I can't really blame that on the ether.

And these leaps of faith, they just keep getting harder. I know I have to trust myself that I truly have learned to listen to my heart AND my mind AND my body. Because I think that's what it's all been about, really. Weighting one over the other at any given time, to my detriment. With the heart being the inevitable loser. Can't believe I did that, when I think about it now.

Maybe it's a good sign that the decisions are getting harder? I mean, the Hunky Actor coming back that last time, that was a tough one. I still see both sides of that coin, though I'm leaning towards "run" with my 20/20 hindsight.

I gotta say, though, at least *somebody* brought me some damn flowers, and you do have to give weight to someone clearly coming at you, no matter the obvious risk. See, that was a tough one.

And I think about your mainstream romance columnists. So many "experts." What makes someone a romance expert? A sociology degree? A dating book or two? Until their divorce. Or worse, maybe they stay in a bad relationship to save face. The truth is, none of us are ever experts for everyone else. We're all always learning, the world's always changing, and we all have different wants and needs.

I hope that you don't mind that I lean towards a more Buddhist philosophy of relationship blogging, if you will. I was taught that Buddha didn't want anyone to follow him blindly. Rather, he asked that you consider his words and decide for yourself what made sense to you. I think that relates perfectly to the blogosphere. And any and all relationship advice or commentary, really.

We share our experiences and our thoughts and what we think and what we're trying, and what works and what doesn't. I've been working on the "what doesn't" column, it would seem.

Just for all you'all.

But seriously, I have learned a lot of truths for myself in the last six years. And I'm going to keep trying to apply them and keep being open to love.

Next time around, here's hoping it's more about what WORKS.

~

The blogosphere speaks:

I don't love him - from Sshcsc's Weblog, she's free of bad love.

Pitty Party - From Penny Pincher at  Pinch the Pennies (say all that five times fast!), sounds like she's free of bad love, too, but none to happy about it.

August 27th - A beautiful post from Lyra at My Song about the winding path to love and the magic that happens when we respect someone's past.