Seeking the Best out of the Worst dating Lineup

I was in a slew of emotions, trying to contain rather than let them out. Once they come out, they won't stop. I don't know if it's the weather to blame but it does a number on the water works.
I decided to not write during that period because let's face it: we've heard it all before. Yes, I'm not the best girl in Montreal (right now), yes, I'm still angry about Jerkface the "open relationship" guy who now has killed relationships for me...
...for now.
Previously it was the douchebag who took my money and said that I wasn't suited to be his wife or bear his kids. He's seeking work in the diplomatic area and so far dodging the ex and getting some drunk sibling to call me scum, hmm, does that sound diplomatic to anyone?
A Michelle Obama he seeks who is more background than stand out.However, Michelle Obama would never go for a douchebag.
Prior to that there was the yuppie that would make me cry every Friday. The type who talks of nothing but about his surround sound speakers, would exfoliate more than I do and thinks he's better than everyone (creatively). I don't see you writing scripts and putting on shows, you do however bankroll them then sleep with someone in the cast.
And so forth and so forth...
This all triggered after watching my friend's play about seeking for the right mate, to commit to someone he would put on a pedestal and dubbed "the best girl in Montreal". I met him when in the play, he ran out of the country for these girls. A couple friends filled me in on the "actual" story behind what really happened prior to the play.
Then I started to go through my track record, hence the water works. Also at the same time, my beloved Montreal Canadiens were having the week that they wish to forget, not letting Kovalev play and a link to mobsters by the kiddies of squad. We went back in time in a lifestyle common to the Mob, live fast, drink hard, women you have for one night only.
Hockey and relationships do go hand and hand, having a good relationship is like going to the Stanley Cup final: take full advantage because it's never going to happen again.
If I were to compare my dating record, I would have the hardest time making the playoffs. It would be a miracle to make it far, seriously, I need to reevaluate the lineup cause it's the laughing stock of the league.
In Montreal, it's easy to find the best girl because let's face it, there are a lot of amazing girls out there. For us, the reversal of fortune is nothing but a game of Russian Roulette. Too many chances, fewer and fewer guys out there. I feel like I'm not the best because there are more girls better than me then it becomes harder to compete. Or lack of competition as most guys will like anything, picky I know they're not. As long as they can make the playoffs (in whatever capacity) it's fine by them.
I think guys are even more insecure about being alone. It's just not as well played.
True fact: the douchebag started going out with a generic blond after he dumped me, 2 weeks later. When jerkface broke off with his girl, he was with his blond replacement a week later.
Then again, they were going on while still with the girlfriend, me as the extra.
BTW, I hate blonds. Unless you're Alex Kovalev.
I downplay in the game because since there is a lack, you really can't be picky. I got lucky with the douche, I loved his curiosity and the ability to make me feel like a better person. We were good, except the part where he couldn't keep a job and got clingy during my final year of University. I couldn't cope, snapped at him, then he thought, well this isn't going to work out.
Like I wasn't already stressed out enough as it is.
I tried seeing it from a Bob Gainey approach, he does the hardest job on earth making sure what is best for this squad and this happens, the kiddies drink hard with strippers, Carey Price is as useful as a plant. I know that the plant would stop the puck more. Expectations were high at first but now it's "let's just make the playoffs."
The same way I see guys. Why should I have expectations when clearly I will be disappointed no matter what. I will lose to blonds, when I do get mad then they think it's the end of the relationship. I no longer have the pressure of being the best when in theory there will be times when I will be at my worst.
Which happened to Kovalev then the whole city wants him out, then he does that magic thing he does and then we love him again.
STOP IT STOP IT STOP IT.
What I learned out of relationships and hockey is that the expectations are high for someone who has to do all the work while the other lounges around and makes it hard. It's hard for me because like I said: it's rare to go to the Stanley Cup final. I'm reaching the age where it gets even harder, selection is so scarce. For guys they can find whoever is "best" until it doesn't mesh. Stop seeking the best and seek what is real, sometimes there will be confidence in one night, a collapse in the next. I think women are more understanding about that (and this is why most of us date douchebags and jerkfaces). But yes, I want to make the playoffs but I will have to do this with an actual team that works as a team, no superstars, no spotlight. Nada expectations.
Who would want the ideal when the real has more surprises. Maybe this could be the year or maybe, who knows. I am doing my best here, right?

Happy Hour?

Here I am writing my blog out of all places: the bar next to my work. It is in a way my office as I am here for hockey games, 5 a 7 and yes, even the occasional rendez vous with someone that fancies me (more recent, the jerkface from the open relationship). Yes, I’m still on this as he’s in my doghouse now, hiding like a coward as if he does show his face in my scene then it would be true: that he is a total jerkface, a liar and the most insecure person on earth. Wanting the attention as if he were a child tugging at his mother’s skirt, wanting her to validate his achievement (or simply his presence).
So why should I even give him the time of day when all he does is waste my time?
Other than that, it’s a loud night, the Habs play the Leafs, which means the bar, will be packed. Louder than normal when it’s hockey night, nearly impossible to hear one’s self amidst the patrons filled with chicken wings and beer. However the voice in my head these days outprojects the table of six next to me.
The bar of late, has been a place for me to think, to contemplate what’s been on my mind in the last while. I have realized this week the significance of a photo project that I’ve been doing for years. That yes, every two years I do become a different person and not the same as the two years previous. I compared myself from two years ago and realized:
I don’t like this person.
Where’s the self determined being that plays the underdog card and comes out on top with nothing to lose? The quirky, crazy, wanting to explore being that was (and can still be me).
She’s in this bar somewhere and I got to find her or else what was the whole point to what I’m doing. I don’t like wasting so I don’t want to be considered a wasted person.
The scenario as follows: the fear in me has been installed due to the consequences that have occurred: bad taste in guys, bad judgment in the jerkface, the sh**ty wrist that has limited me, the economic crisis and post university. All of these have added to this:
I’ve lost photo jobs to someone who barely knows the rules of photo yet has all the time in the world to shoot (I don’t, have a job), there are more politics in the paper I work at and would want to freelance more but the opportunities you can do at a student paper sure beats covering a bake sale. I’m questioning on whether or not I am a good photographer, or even a good person. I yell at one person…
I’m at a low point where: 29, lives at home, minimum wage, pushed around, no confidence at all. However, I do admit that since I realized this, maybe I can turn this around completely. I think the open relationship/sh**ty wrists are what’s preventing me, who wants to hire someone who may be prone to injury and bad judgment. People do talk.
I think jerkface did and I got blackballed.
I can’t seem to forgive myself for being the other woman. I think all the time I’ve done this awful thing and shouldn’t deserve anything. The fact that I have bad judgment, think about it, if you actually have me in a real life situation, life or death type of deal, would you really want to have your faith determined by the girl who decided to be in the open relationship with the same guy twice and not come out with something?
Really?!?
I remember being a lot smarter about this two years ago.
Man, no wonder why everyone stays in University, we’re a bunch of useless stupid people with no purpose to serve without the shelter of the ivory tower. I’ve become a total douchebag, the being I’ve been trying not to be however it crept up behind me as I was becoming vulnerable to the real world adjustment. You know the theory of the little fish/big pond and big fish/little pond. As I figured out how to become a big fish, the ponds would be easy to adapt and become smaller, I have no other form of level to go up to now, actually, it’s a Hell of a lot bigger than I can handle. I am now in the ocean and if I don’t adapt, I’m going keep on drowning.
I think it would be better if I were to drown my sorrows in the beer right next to me but I won’t, the fact that I’m writing my blog in a bar on hockey night has me thinking that this could actually be a good sign. I am writing again, right?
The whole notion of what could happen now then where I was two years ago is quite different, the rules and attitude is supposed to exceed intelligence however my scenarios are so childish and immature the only thing I can think of is:
At least you know, do something about it.
I know that’s something I would have never done two years ago.