If you ever met me, you’d probably think I’m a bitch. I wouldn’t argue. I like to yell and complain, and I never hesitate to tell someone if I don’t like them unless I think I can gain something by keeping my mouth shut. I’m volatile and can go off like a firecracker without a moment’s notice. I don’t go out of my way to be nice to people, but if you say something I don’t like, I’ll certainly go out of my way to be nasty to you.
My friends and family are used to it and somehow manage to enjoy my company. [Editor's Note: For the record, we here at The Frisky have never seen Nikki be anything but jovial and totally hilarious.] Once I let someone in, I really let them in. If I like you—or love you—I’ll do almost anything to make you happy or help you out. I’m extremely loyal. I guess, for my friends and family, the good has, over time, outweighed the bad. They are able to forgive the volatility and occasional craziness, so long as it isn’t directed at them. Since I only see my family occasionally and usually just get together with my friends on the weekends, they hardly ever see my bad side.
But dating me is another story.The people I’m dating are around me more often. I get super comfortable with them and, in no time at all, they are privy to the side of me my friends and family don’t see too often.
In high school, I dated the same guy for three and a half years because I didn’t think I’d be able to find someone else who could handle me. He was even angrier than me, more volatile and twice as crazy. He yelled in public, got in fights and was often booted from restaurants and other establishments. This sounds like a total turn-off, right? Well, for me, it was welcome. I liked hanging out with someone who made me feel comparably normal. My outbursts, family problems and habits were nothing compared to his.
After him, there were a couple other guys who broke up with me because I’m so bats**t crazy. One, because I hated all his friends and walked all over him. Another ended it after I threw something across the room in his general direction. I wasn’t aiming at him, but I guess that doesn’t really matter.
I’ve since discovered that I love women, and am currently dating one who is studying to be a psychologist. She’s ridiculously understanding and non-judgmental of me. She doesn’t get upset when I get mad for no reason or flip out on her friends because they said something I don’t like. She handles the crying, rage-filled outbursts and utter lack of sympathy very well. She knows that I can turn at a moment’s notice and tries to figure out why, rather than get angry.
I’m not proud of the fact that I’m so hard to date and I often feel extremely guilty about my behavior. I feel like a leech who attaches to someone and sucks and sucks, leaving only a painful wound. I won’t give you a back massage or make you dinner and crying makes me uncomfortable. Sick people gross me out, too.
Over the years, I’ve gotten better at harnessing my emotions. I’ve grappled with my past and figured out why I act the way I do and, yes, I’m in therapy. But sometimes I slip up. I’m a hypocrite because I expect my significant others to understand and sympathize, but when they are mean to me I just get pissed.
There is no lesson here. I’m hard to date and I don’t expect that to change anytime soon. I think I’ll always have to be with people who can handle and understand a certain level of craziness, be it because they are a little crazy themselves or just very understanding. I’m always working on myself, but I know I’ll never be the super sweet girl-next-door type. That’s just the way I am.