Complicated Relationships

I am sick to death of all this bullshit about “complicated” relationships.

Every day, I sit and listen to TV shows, radio shows, movies, and see columns all offering lengthy advice for people in so-called “complicated” relationships.

I have listened to my friends bitch and moan about how getting out of their poisonous entanglements just “isn’t that simple”.
I’m a good friend, and a good listener, and I’ve been through more than my share of useless endeavors with the opposite sex.
I have no qualms listening to bitching and moaning as I go through my own trials and tribulations searching for outstanding sex and companionship before I settle on the guy I let impregnate me. Until then, I can safely say that my experience has led me to one all consuming and enlightening truth.

When it comes to relationships…

Drum roll please…

IT ISN’T THAT COMPLICATED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The problems and complications in a relationship can be summed up with answers to the following questions:

Do you like me?

Do you want to fuck?

Do you want to be exclusive?

Do you want to be friends?

Do you love me?

Do you want to part ways and never see each other again?

The answers to these questions, affirmative or negative, will say more than any gesture.

It is most unfortunate that the majority of us don’t have the balls to ask these questions.

What’s even more tragic is that we don’t have the courage to provide answers, with or without provocation.
But we have to.

If you really care about the person, you’ll tough out the bullshit, if not, get out, it’s that simple.

Any complications you add to the mix due to religion, anal retentive family members, shared condo payments, and so forth, is a load of bullshit.

We are all adults here.

You don’t have to waste your time exhausting yourselves emotionally wondering how the other person feels, or whether you want to stay with them.

Ask the questions, both to yourselves and to them, get the answers, and give yours in turn.

I am urging everyone to grow some stones, moxy, balls, cohunes, or huevos, and stop dramatizing.

It would save everyone a lot of grief.

–Samantha Gold