Are you there girls? It’s me, Matthew.
That’s a question and a consequent introductory statement that I haven’t had to make for the better part of nearly four years. I was in a seemingly fruitful, committed relationship, and I happily played the role of boyfriend. That all changed a few weeks back, as I saw this love affair come to a screeching halt and parted ways with the girl I suppose I guess I assumed I’d eventually marry.
Now, the breakup itself was mutual and amicable. Both parties still care fondly for one another as people, and there was no foul play that would prompt an emotional outpouring of hatred from one side. Nothing like that at all went on. Everything was OK, and that was the issue. It can’t just be OK.
We had been living together for nigh on two years and while everything was fine, it was just that. It was a living of day-to-day life: a routine that served neither to impel forward, nor to promote a general lagging behind. Ostensibly, sure, we were happy. We hardly fought. Our opposite personalities seemed to engage one another, and all, um, other stuff was pretty decent to. All of these factors contributed to an overall wellness that would quell (in my mind) the thought that breaking up was the right course of action.
It happened though, and we went our separate ways. Truly, it is for the best. Saying goodbye (why is it sad? It makes us remember the good times we had. Aaahh, the Muppets really nail it) is always a horribly touchy and weepy scenario, but after that, the time spent reflecting did show the move to be the correct path. We’re only each twenty-seven, and I think that is still considered young in the grand scheme of things. A friend of mine comforted me with these brilliantly reassuring words: I’d never have lived with a woman in my mid-twenties. Thanks for making it seem like I wasted the last two years of my life, and ultimately more than that with the pre-cohabitation period.
He’s not right though. Those two years of cohabitation helped me grow as a person, a significant other and an adult. Honestly, I cherish the time I spent with the ex & nary a negative word comes to mind when I think about her. But that’s all the past, and it’s time to set sail on the sea of new frontiers and forge new bonds with really hot strangers.
After such a time spent living as a boyfriend, the pelvic thrust back into singlehood clearly takes some getting used to. Being suddenly blasted back into the realm of bachelorhood prompted some immediate questions and thoughts in my head and applied a cheese grater to my fragile psyche. The comfort zone of fulfilling relationship has been vaporized and I stand at a crossroads: What is it that I am now looking for?
The Tucker Max inside me was the first of the many angels & devils that would materialize on my shoulder. I should clarify that I fucking hate that Tucker Max. He’s a terrible hackneyed fratboy fiction writer who appeals to the lowest common denominator – but truthfully, there’s a little bit of him in every living, breathing, hormonally-functional male. So, that lucid and sage little Tucker Max on my shoulder is whispering commands, statements and personal anecdotes that Penthouse forum would print. And why not? In truth, I was a faithful boyfriend for nearly 4+ years. Never once did I neither stray into the house of adultery nor even consider it—does that entitle me to a prolonged period of sluttiness? Maybe so, but is that what I even want?
The true answer is: yes and no. I’ve been with enough women to call myself familiar with the anatomy. While lovely in the subtle nuances of the individual form, each is not all that different from chick to chick. Furthermore, notches on the bedpost don’t hold the same distinction during the twilight years of one’s twenties as they did when one is just being introduced to the glory that is the vagina. (This piece may be getting away from me, love ≠ sex, but the two are so closely intertwined that it’s hard to separate them in this discussion). Additionally, I chose to sequester myself with a significant other for a good chunk of time. It was simple to maintain a monogamous relationship throughout the duration, so why would I suddenly desire the life of a gigolo upon my romantic parole? It is an intriguing question that I am still sorting out. So now I’m genitally liberated, yet sex isn’t the only thing on my mind. Does that mean that I am already craving a relationship?
So just what the fuck do I want? The previous paragraph served to rationalize sleeping around, while qualifying the unnecessary utility of the process. Clearly it is not just coitus that’s driving my emotional choices (very gentlemanly, if I do say so myself). So I sit here introspectively, literally asking myself what I want. The answer doesn’t come as easy as I’d hope.
I suppose if I was floored by that comely supermodel neurosurgeon violinist I’ve been searching for, I’d have to try to lock that down. Even so, it’d be weird as hell to, this quickly, reenter the sacred pact of putting In a relationship w/ so&so on my Facebook. Even if Ms. Right knocked on my door today quoting Nietzsche in a licorice g-string, would I be ready for such a commitment? I honestly don’t have the answer. Can a human, previously invested emotionally and in love with another, fall out and back into love that rapid and smoothly? These are all hypothetical bridges I intend to cross.
So there it is in a nutshell: a boy (man?) of 27, confused and conflicted. There’d be a screenplay in here somewhere, if it wasn’t so common. Amid the first few moments of the break-up, the phrase que sera sera became my rallying cry and I’m going to stick with it. I admittedly don’t have the answers. I definitely don’t know what I am currently searching for, and without question, I probably won’t know until it’s already too late. Until then, whatever will be will be. And all single women can direct a short bio and a photograph to the email listed below to help move the process along.
Matthew, 27, is a graphic artist & musician from New Rochelle NY. Reach him at
I am also attempting to find out exactly what the fuck is up with my love life.
datingandhookup.com is a website that explores modern romance in the Millennial era – which, let’s be honest, looks nothing like we were taught to expect. We feature essays, advice and social commentary with humor, compassion and brains, and we vow never, ever to publish a piece called “The 10 Best Ways to Satisfy Your Man in Bed”. Do click to submit your work to us. We love you.
Follow Dating & Hookup on Instagram
Follow Jess on Instagram
Follow Becky on Instagram
Follow me on Twitter