I try to see every situation in life as a social challenge, or, more appropriately to the title of this blog, an experiment. I like to learn from difficult situations, and I like to see whether and how I can affect them to change for the better (this comes naturally to some people, it is called social competency. I do not possess this talent, so I have to resort to science).
This is the reason I hooked up with a guy for a month even though I knew I would be totally heartbroken after that time period. I was challenging my attachment addiction. (Let’s not talk about how I did this twice.)
This would also be the reason why I moved in with a girl with whom I had nothing in common except our affinity for food (which actually also turned out to be a problem). It was a challenge in dealing with conflict and stepping out of my comfort zone.
And of course it’s the reason I took off to Russia to live with a guy I knew for 3 days. What better experiment in independence and romantic relationships (and insanity) than that?
The problem is, of course, that I sometimes lose sense of the boundaries between “social experiment” and “torture”. There are times when I can’t tell if something is pointlessly making me miserable or if I’m actually learning from it. And this is when I consider myself so lucky to have several very normal, rational, logical, non-social-psychologist friends and family members who can usually hit me over the head and tell me to get the fuck out before I kill someone.