It is a funny thing to speak of relationships with your girlfriends. For as many friends as I have they all have differing ideas on what they're relationships are like, or will be like. I have spent four years of my college life with two women that I find independent and not at all cliche. One is in a long term, currently long-distance, relationship that will in the near future include a marriage. But because they have taken time off away from each other, she is able to say what she wants and knows what she needs in the relationship (even if I do hear her still nag her man). The other keeps certain men on speed-dail for sex, not wanting to settle for them because she knows what kind of relationship she has with these men or women: an erotic friendship. Yet she has been in long term relationships before, and sees herself right now for what she wants and needs. This is part of the reason why I've loved them so dearly.

And now, in a new town in Florida, I'm speaking to two very different women about how they want and desire a relationship. How they haven't been able to make them work. One has been engaged twice and lived with another boyfriend. She is conflicted on whether an ex of hers or a close friend could be "the one" and why should she meet new male prospectives. The other hasn't had long term relationships. She finds herself falling for men that she can't have. Men that every other woman wants--though she claims to have wanted them first. She wants a man but doesn't seem to know how to have one.

These differences have made me recently look into my own ideas of partners, marriage, and my future. Not only my friends but also my parents and family. After almost 28 years of marriage my parents separated earlier this year. Since this event I have slowly separated myself from the facts and emotions of what it means to have my parents divorcing. My three older brothers all seem to be serial monogamists. My oldest brother hasn't been in a relationship in a couple of years, from my knowledge at least, but I know that he would be in one if he could. The middle brother goes from two-year long relationship to two-year relationship almost seamlessly. And the youngest of my brothers (two years older than me) has a common law marriage with the mother of his daughter.

When I think about the relationships I've had, the longest loving commitment I think I've gone through with is with my French bulldog. But in a discussion earlier with one of my new girlfriends I admitted how I can almost automatically put an expiration date on men, on myself. Even in the middle of something I consider wonderful, romantic, new, and exciting, I rationalize why it won't work out: there's a time and a place in my life for this man at this moment, but in a month and a half that time and place will be over.

I haven't had many relationships or boyfriends, and out of the ones I've had I only really think fondly of one. He is the man that every time I see him I know why I loved him. I can see in his facial features what attracted me initially. But even then, in the midst of twitterpation I knew how long we'd last. At the time I didn't communicate any of this with him. And after a summer apart he wanted to get back together. I can still feel the guilt that washed over me when I saw him after I knew the milk was bad. To this day, he is the only one that has ever made me feel guilty.

I think observing more female fantasies and ideals of my generation might help me understand myself and others. But I do know this, I don't need a man. But when I finally meet one that I can't read the expiration date, I will be happy.