Why does Project Runway make me feel all soul-searchy?

On my rebound relationship trip, I keep meeting these guys I think I have a crush on.
It's pent up anger and loneliness fueling these crushes, but you know, all of you have been through it too.

Before I entered the "long term monogamy stage of my life", I was the kind of girl who was boy crazy. To say the least. In an incredibly shallow and self-serving sort of way. During that time, I met all kinds of creepy mouth breathers and whisper talkers. I did things, and people, that I'm definitely not admitting to in any blog or drinking game.

Now that stage of me is almost eight years old, but I was scared that somehow my life would go back to that. I've been telling myself over and over again to stay away from boys, keep to myself, don't think about sex or fall into the same destructive habits I had before. I'm not the most determined young woman, and I have little to no willpower.I'm exactly the sort of almost middle aged spinster who makes stupid mistakes when she gets her freedom back.

But in the past month and half, I've gone through three pretty hardcore crushes, and mercifully they have all died before they started crawling. Because I feel like I'm able to see through people faster, evaluate their weaknesses better, and not hang around any kind of crap just cause I wanna get laid. It's like I'm superpower single girl, able to cut men down with a single scathing judgment.

In reality, I've felt this way about other guys for a long time, ever since I fell for Sean. He was so much better than any guy I'd ever met before, he threw into high relief the competition's flaws, he instilled in me impossibly high standards.

So now I'm out in the world without Sean, but with those standards still in place. Before we broke up, I was afraid of this too, of never finding a guy who was as good as him. And I didn't break up with him because I thought I could find better. There were other reasons. Maybe I will never meet another guy who will be as great as he was on our great days.

But the end of the story is I no longer care. I don't care if I ever date someone else. I don't care if I'm never in another relationship again. Of course, I have that post-breakup medley of "fuck guys, fuck boyfriends" stirring around in my head. But it's passing. Behind the jitteriness, I can feel this cold hard imprint of "Who cares? I want the rest of my life to start happening."

I had a conversation with this girl at Lava Lounge the other day, and she said "well, girls are like that. When they're done, they're done." She's right. Girls will try and try and keep trying, until finally one day they're finished and there's no more try left. And once that happens, there are no booty calls or prolonged late night phone calls. There's just me, being done. Being distanced and objective, trying to not be excitable, or angry, or depressed, or manic. Avoiding anything that smacks of drama. I want some time with the more moderate subtle feelings, emotions with light touches, an even keel.

I feel like maybe I'm forcing my brain to overcome its addiction to highs and lows. Maybe, like the smoker who one day hates the smell of cigarettes, I just lost my taste for the constant storm of me and Sean. And I have no desire to feel those kind of feelings, good and bad, again. I want new feelings. Self-possessed feelings.

Now all I need is an overseas trip.