Looking over my last few posts, I think it’s fair to say that some of you loyal readers are most likely a bit perturbed and annoyed that I have appeared to find some sort of satisfaction in my more-often-than-not usually pathetic love life. Hell, I even make my self want to vomit a little. When I see any couple walk down the street hand and hand, giddy over the fact that they think they’ve finally found the one, I have a hard time deciding who I want to punch in the stupid head first. And now that I’m in their position, I’m well aware of how the single cynics must feel, but who cares? I’m in loooove. Guh.

But if you’re ready for the downside of my bliss, here ya go…

Sunday night I had a slight panic attack. It began with my frustration with the limited job options facing me at the moment – I could maybe get a job at the Apple Store in the King of Prussia Mall or at the Starbucks on name-any-fucking-corner in the city, and that’s about it. I keep wondering if I made the right choice to leave radio entirely after the Kansas City kiss-off, especially when I see that CBS radio is hiring, but then I remember how much I hated it, even when the going was good. But unfortunately, radio doesn’t quite leave you with a stellar resume that translates well to other jobs. And I’ll shoot myself in the goddamned face before I go into ad sales. I swear I’ll do it.

Then I started worrying about finances – I had planned to move in with a couple of girls at the beginning of the fall, and though the rent won’t be terribly high, between living on unemployment and paying for school, I’m not exactly rolling in it. Sure, I could always borrow money until I take a gig slinging cappuccinos or teaching technologically inept baby boomers how to program an iPod, but I’m almost thirty and seriously need to get back on my independent feet.

Oh, yeah, did I mention I have a birthday next week? Ain’t that just the icing on top of the cake made of poo? But at least things are going well with D*. We’ve been together over a month and things just seem to get better and better with every passing week.

And this is where the panic set-in. I love D, I really do, but I fear for that moment. And when I say that moment, I mean that moment that the current excitement turns to monotonous routine, that the things I used to find endearing about him now make my skin crawl, that one or both of us realize that we hate the other’s guts with a serious passion.

Maybe that’s a little harsh, but being a cynic in love, one eventually comes to the conclusion that not only are things going to end, but they’re going to end badly. As some dead asshole once said, the higher they rise, the harder they fall, and we’ve definitely risen to another stratosphere in record time.

My friends tell me that by voicing this concern, I’m just setting myself up for a one-way trip on the road to ruin. I hate to admit it, but they’re probably right. When things were going good with A*, I told my friends that we most likely wouldn’t make through the summer to which they replied, “Oh, don’t say that. If you think that, it will happen.” And we all know what transpired there.

But I can’t ignore my fears. How can I pretend that everything will always be okay? As I’ve told D many times, I’m afraid I’m not as good a person as he believes me to be. I can be indecisive, insecure, and selfish to the point that I push people away and masochistically enjoy fucking shit up. Of course, I could choose not to be this way, but when it comes to self-protection, it kind of works for me. I just feel bad for the people in my wake, and I don’t want D to be one of them. I care about him so much I almost want to push him away. Or at least let him push me away first, because as you know, I do love playing the victim. But wow — it would really hurt this time.

D called me around the time of the attack, and when he sensed the uneasy exhaustion in my voice, I told him about my fears involving work and money, but not my worries involving us. Besides, why stress out both of us over something we ultimately have little power over? Whatever will happen, will happen. No, I just needed a melatonin, a glass of wine, and some Comcast on Demand to take my overly-analytical mind off of things for the night. I wish I could say that those little helpers had a permanent effect on my psyche.

So there. You wanted the crazy JC back in full effect, and you got her. You lucky people, you.

*Just trying to have a little privacy. Is that too much to ask? Is it? Jesus.