First of all, this is the first post I've made in a while and I HATE the new interface. Seriously. WTF?
Second, I've started online dating. Or, well, not dating. I've not yet had a date. But online messaging. It's been about 10 days and so far... well... I'm not any more successful online than I am in real life. Oh well. It's something to do. Oh, and for those of you who might be wondering how that fits into the whole "permission to stop trying so hard in dating" thing, it's simple. I'm a little bit of a hypocrite. A very, very bored hypocrite.
Third, I'm currently looking for a job. For those of you who are familiar with the job market in Pocatello... it blows. I've had a couple of interviews, but it's hard to even apply for things because there are so few job openings that I'm even qualified to apply for. My goal is one application per day. Sometimes I make it. Other times... no one is hiring that day, so I don't apply. I would really like to have something to do. Something that doesn't involve Facebook. I think it's time to start volunteering somewhere.
Fourth, sewing is one of the most frustrating, rewarding things I have ever done. I took a costume construction class this past semester, and afterwards I decided to buy a sewing machine and have been making stuff since. I've made some stuff for me and for other people as well, and I've been really enjoying the results. The only problem I've been having is that I haven't finished reorganizing my room to make space for said sewing machine, so I've had to settle for sewing in the living room. Having to clean up and pack my stuff to my room every night and bring it back to the living room and unpack it the next day kind of puts a damper in working on projects. But cleaning is much less fun than sewing so...
Meh, that's all for now. I kept avoiding the two things I want to talk most about, and this is no different. Blah. Maybe later.
Showing posts with label men. Show all posts
Showing posts with label men. Show all posts
Saturday, May 26, 2012
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Life as a Single Girl
Recently, a friend of mine posted on Facebook an article that asked a very interesting question:
Why are Americans still so obsessed with single people—and so scared by them?
This question seems incredibly appropriate to my current life. In some ways, I can answer this question in relation my culture. LDS single adults are bombarded with messages, both doctrine and personal opinion, about the importance of "eternal marriage," "eternal companions," and the like. And though I respect their right to their own world view, the underlying urgency to get married to someone, sometimes anyone, who can at least keep up appearances at church and around extended family of being an eternally happy family can be overwhelming. Not to mention that the older you get, the slimmer the pickings get. And since there is also the sense of "divorced = used/damaged goods" and "you want someone who doesn't have a nasty past" and "returned missionaries are the only men worth marrying, regardless of why they didn't go or their commitment level while they were out" and "there's usually a reason you're not married by 25" and a dozen other misguided, judgmental, un-Christlike messages, being single becomes even more frowned upon.
Now, before I get a bunch of "I've never judged someone like that" or "I've never seen this in my ward" or I've never felt judged" comments, let me just say that while this may be true for >1% of the LDS singles population, it probably isn't true for you. I respect your right to pretend to be indignant about a sweeping generalization about your religion, and even tolerate your (judgmental) assessment that my feelings stem from being bitter and having left the Church and therefore somehow twisting the beauty of the gospel and culture to fit my own perceptions (or some variation of that), but at the end of the day I honestly don't take your "righteous" defensive comments seriously because, as I said before, you are not part of the >1%, because they don't feel the need to comment like that. End of story.
So anyway, back, to the point of this post. So LDS singles are terrified of remaining so in small part because of the religious implications and in large part because of the cultural judgments associated with singlehood. And since I was a practicing member up until sometime in January, it makes sense that I still have some leftover feelings along this line. But that doesn't explain the American (or maybe human) drive to be in a relationship for non-religious reasons. I mean, people do all kinds of crazy things to avoid being alone, from dating people who are toxic or abusive or simply wrong for them, to staying in relationships that are clearly dysfunctional or which impede progression of the individual, to settling for the illusion of being in a relationship by participating in one night stands, booty calls, "friends with benefits", affairs, and a host of other pseudo-commitments. Why do we do these things to ourselves?
I think, in part, because the alternative is terrifying. Not necessarily the idea of being alone (though that is terrifying for some people), but the idea of having to justify your decision to remain single and deal with the ridiculous comments from people who have no business being interested in your relationship status anyway. When I announced on my birthday that I was going to stop actively looking for my other half, I had all kinds of people who, when they heard, found it necessary to tell me exactly what they thought of my decision. And though some of those comments were kind, I wasn't looking for support in the decision I made. I was merely announcing a change of behavior. I can't imagine what it would be like to decide on and announce a permanent change in lifestyle. I'd hate to have to defend my happiness simply because it wasn't necessarily a mainstream choice (although choosing to not be in a committed, monogamous, heterosexual relationship is becoming more and more mainstream than the outwardly conservative outspoken members of our culture would care to admit).
When I posted a link on Facebook to the article I read, a friend of mine made this comment: I spent most of my teens/early adulthood single and loved it. But loving it was exhausting -- I'd turn down offers to set me up, avoid guys who were interested, and constantly announce that I was VERY HAPPY ALONE, because I genuinely didn't want a boyfriend... and it was practically a full-time job convincing people that a) I was serious and b) I was straight. This kind of situation is exactly what I'm talking about and what worries me the most about any kind of "radical" announcement.
But fears aside, here is a semi-announcement: I'm going to try out the single life. Not the "waiting around for a boyfriend" life, or the "between relationships" life, but the truly single life. I was telling someone that some of most dissatisfying times in my existence have been when I was pursuing a relationship that didn't pan out. And rather than find myself in yet another situation like that, I'm going to focus on developing myself as a person. I'm not going to be dishonest about things: if a relationship shows up on my front door I'm not going to turn it down. However, I'm not going to do anything to encourage it. AND, I'm going to blog it. Because that's what I do (or pretend to do, anyway).
Slate article: Singled Out
Why are Americans still so obsessed with single people—and so scared by them?
This question seems incredibly appropriate to my current life. In some ways, I can answer this question in relation my culture. LDS single adults are bombarded with messages, both doctrine and personal opinion, about the importance of "eternal marriage," "eternal companions," and the like. And though I respect their right to their own world view, the underlying urgency to get married to someone, sometimes anyone, who can at least keep up appearances at church and around extended family of being an eternally happy family can be overwhelming. Not to mention that the older you get, the slimmer the pickings get. And since there is also the sense of "divorced = used/damaged goods" and "you want someone who doesn't have a nasty past" and "returned missionaries are the only men worth marrying, regardless of why they didn't go or their commitment level while they were out" and "there's usually a reason you're not married by 25" and a dozen other misguided, judgmental, un-Christlike messages, being single becomes even more frowned upon.
Now, before I get a bunch of "I've never judged someone like that" or "I've never seen this in my ward" or I've never felt judged" comments, let me just say that while this may be true for >1% of the LDS singles population, it probably isn't true for you. I respect your right to pretend to be indignant about a sweeping generalization about your religion, and even tolerate your (judgmental) assessment that my feelings stem from being bitter and having left the Church and therefore somehow twisting the beauty of the gospel and culture to fit my own perceptions (or some variation of that), but at the end of the day I honestly don't take your "righteous" defensive comments seriously because, as I said before, you are not part of the >1%, because they don't feel the need to comment like that. End of story.
So anyway, back, to the point of this post. So LDS singles are terrified of remaining so in small part because of the religious implications and in large part because of the cultural judgments associated with singlehood. And since I was a practicing member up until sometime in January, it makes sense that I still have some leftover feelings along this line. But that doesn't explain the American (or maybe human) drive to be in a relationship for non-religious reasons. I mean, people do all kinds of crazy things to avoid being alone, from dating people who are toxic or abusive or simply wrong for them, to staying in relationships that are clearly dysfunctional or which impede progression of the individual, to settling for the illusion of being in a relationship by participating in one night stands, booty calls, "friends with benefits", affairs, and a host of other pseudo-commitments. Why do we do these things to ourselves?
I think, in part, because the alternative is terrifying. Not necessarily the idea of being alone (though that is terrifying for some people), but the idea of having to justify your decision to remain single and deal with the ridiculous comments from people who have no business being interested in your relationship status anyway. When I announced on my birthday that I was going to stop actively looking for my other half, I had all kinds of people who, when they heard, found it necessary to tell me exactly what they thought of my decision. And though some of those comments were kind, I wasn't looking for support in the decision I made. I was merely announcing a change of behavior. I can't imagine what it would be like to decide on and announce a permanent change in lifestyle. I'd hate to have to defend my happiness simply because it wasn't necessarily a mainstream choice (although choosing to not be in a committed, monogamous, heterosexual relationship is becoming more and more mainstream than the outwardly conservative outspoken members of our culture would care to admit).
When I posted a link on Facebook to the article I read, a friend of mine made this comment: I spent most of my teens/early adulthood single and loved it. But loving it was exhausting -- I'd turn down offers to set me up, avoid guys who were interested, and constantly announce that I was VERY HAPPY ALONE, because I genuinely didn't want a boyfriend... and it was practically a full-time job convincing people that a) I was serious and b) I was straight. This kind of situation is exactly what I'm talking about and what worries me the most about any kind of "radical" announcement.
But fears aside, here is a semi-announcement: I'm going to try out the single life. Not the "waiting around for a boyfriend" life, or the "between relationships" life, but the truly single life. I was telling someone that some of most dissatisfying times in my existence have been when I was pursuing a relationship that didn't pan out. And rather than find myself in yet another situation like that, I'm going to focus on developing myself as a person. I'm not going to be dishonest about things: if a relationship shows up on my front door I'm not going to turn it down. However, I'm not going to do anything to encourage it. AND, I'm going to blog it. Because that's what I do (or pretend to do, anyway).
Slate article: Singled Out
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
10 People
I'm having a rough time in my head tonight. Lots of confusion. Lots of school-related reading. Lots of heartbreak. Lots of icky. Most of it at a handful of specific people. So, cowardly as it might seem to be, I'm doing a writing exercise taken from the days of myspace where I anonymously write messages to 10 people without posting their names or any specific details. For my sake and/or for theirs. If they read and guess who they are, that's ok. I probably should say some of this to their faces anyway. Hopefully it will help.
1. I think you're a great person. I really do. I wish you could see that about yourself. I wish you would stop holding yourself to their standards, stop taking on their crap, and stop making your life harder than it needs to be. I realize I sound like a hypocrite, but I'm saying it anyway because I love you.
I told you that I'm your friend because I know how much I messed up and therefore don't have hopes that you'll ever trust me enough. You directed me to a picture of your favorite quote: "Forgiveness means not letting the past dictate the future." I know from experience that to assume you meant anything more than to show me a personal life philosophy would be silly of me, even dangerous, but that doesn't stop me from hoping that what you meant is more nights like Monday.
I told you that I'm your friend because I know how much I messed up and therefore don't have hopes that you'll ever trust me enough. You directed me to a picture of your favorite quote: "Forgiveness means not letting the past dictate the future." I know from experience that to assume you meant anything more than to show me a personal life philosophy would be silly of me, even dangerous, but that doesn't stop me from hoping that what you meant is more nights like Monday.
I love you. I thought I loved you before, because I kept superimposing on you the emotions I had for someone you reminded me of, but once I stripped away all of that and took a look at raw YOU-ness, I realized I love who you are. Your quirks and oddities. The way you stop speaking to me when you're upset. How much you want to explore me without giving very much of yourself in return (except that then sometimes you do, totally at random). How insecure you are when think no one is looking. The plant on your windowsill that seems so out of place. That you never kick me out of your bed, and let me stay at your place after you've gone. The thousand different ways you make me feel.
I love you. I wish we wanted the same thing: to be together. Not in any kind of "this is my boyfriend and we're monogamous" way, but in the way that I stay over most nights and sometime I do homework while you play Rockband or we read lines to each other or whatever and if I go to bed early you sneak in and try to not wake me up. And some nights you wake me up at 2:30 because you can't stand to keep your hands to yourself anymore or I wake you up at who-knows-what-time because I'm not crying as quietly as I thought. And if you have someone else you want to see that night or if I kiss someone else that's ok, because we are so comfortable in our own us-ness that things like that don't matter. I'll always keep my own place, but I want a drawer at yours too. And lets not brag it around to everyone because they don't all need to know. Will you teach me to play guitar?
I love you. I wish we wanted the same thing: to be together. Not in any kind of "this is my boyfriend and we're monogamous" way, but in the way that I stay over most nights and sometime I do homework while you play Rockband or we read lines to each other or whatever and if I go to bed early you sneak in and try to not wake me up. And some nights you wake me up at 2:30 because you can't stand to keep your hands to yourself anymore or I wake you up at who-knows-what-time because I'm not crying as quietly as I thought. And if you have someone else you want to see that night or if I kiss someone else that's ok, because we are so comfortable in our own us-ness that things like that don't matter. I'll always keep my own place, but I want a drawer at yours too. And lets not brag it around to everyone because they don't all need to know. Will you teach me to play guitar?
2. I don't know what to say to you. I love what we had, but I feel like I'm supposed to feel like it's time to change that. We have to become adults sometimes, and while you might be ok with what's happening in your head, the fact that there are so many lies and sneaking about all the time means you also know that it's not really ok at all. But I'm not the one who has anything to be honest about, so I don't really feel all that guilty. And anyway, I love you. I want to be the woman you marry when we're in our 40s and ready to settle down for reals this time. It takes my breath away when I kiss you. It always has. Can you tell?
3. I would if I could and if you would. But you never will. And I don't want to upset the very delicate balance of things. I feel like Worf must have in the final season of TNG if you're Deanna and there are two Will Rikers (except slightly less hairy). But if you ever wanted to, I have a holodeck program that has a sandy beach and a full moon and it absolutely romantic. Just saying.
4. I miss you. Every day. And then you didn't respond. And now it's worse. Why can't I come home?
5. I wish you would stop talking to me. I'm afraid if I tell you how I feel you'll go into another tailspin, and I DON'T want to be responsible for that, but you can't seriously believe that there's anything for you to try to befriend again after the shit you pulled the last time. I don't want your drama that you bring upon yourself. I don't want to deal with the demands of "being allowed" to be your friend. I don't feel guilty for never wanting to see you again. And I'd tell you all this if you were more emotionally stable. In the meantime, I need for you to just stop, ok? Find someone else to use; I'm not interested.
6. I'd love to get to know you. The distance thing puts a damper on it, and I get the feeling you're not an avid texter or else I'd keep things up that way. You've got a decent shot, most likely, not least because someone I trust vouched for you in both an inebriated AND a sober state. And besides, you have one of the awesomest hobbies ever (yes, I know that it should say "most awesome" but I'm ignoring the rules of grammar because of how awesome it is).
7. I can't. I thought I could, but I can't. I won't change myself that much, and I won't go without what I need in hopes that you're going to eventually change. You shouldn't change. You should be you. Someone will someday be introduced into your life with similar goals and relational needs. But I am not that girl. I am, in fact, a very different girl from that girl. And it's not a matter of you not being a good guy, though you very well might not understand that when I tell you all of this. I think you're an excellent guy, or we wouldn't have gotten this far. I simply need different things than you can give me (not more, not better, just different), and I think you need different things that I can give you. So before anyone gets more hurt than they're already going to, I think we should just call it quits. It's better this way, I promise.
8. Fuck. You. And not in a pleasant, orgasmic kind of way. More in the "I hope you get hit by a bus and then burst into flames" kind of way.
9. I hope you're doing alright. I like my life better without you in it, but I still want good things for you. I hope you end up getting what you wanted (except, of course, for the "being with Jocelyn" part).
10. I wonder if you knew as a kid how much the things you said would impact me. it's been 15 years, but I can still hear the things you said and I still look into the mirror sometimes with the same kinds of critical, mocking looks you used to give me in class and on the playground. I wonder if you would be interested to know that, had I had better self esteem, I might have been accepted by the other kids, played harder, and not let the weight get out of hand. I might not be this sick now. I might have spent adolescence loving myself, not hiding in my weight, and it might not have become a friendly ally in my quest to hide my tears. I might have been able to shed it early on, stayed on top of being healthy, and never felt like a diet would kill my only constant companion.
I wonder if you care as an adult, or if the loathing you developed in 3rd grade and carried through to graduation shields you from feeling guilty. Did you think then that I deserved it? Do you still? Do you even remember why you started mocking me, why you were the ring-leader in destroying the inherent joy and trust of a little girl? Why you took one of God's precious daughters and broke her spirit, made her feel ugly, left her jaded and destroyed even still? How much of what you did then played a part in me clinging to a poisonous relationship even after it degenerated into nothing more than mental and sexual abuse?
Please don't misunderstand, I'm not blaming you for the way my life has gone so far. I don't think it was only your playground taunts that have impacted my life. In fact, I rarely think about you in all honesty. But sometimes, when I least expect it, those ugly words come back and my inner child cringes, and it's all I can do to not look you up and demand an apology or at least an explanation. But then I remind myself that you are (or anyway, you were) a Mormon boy and 10 is older than 8. What that means for you, if you thought about it for a few minutes, is that you're going to be accountable for all of it some day. Every action has a price.
There you have it. I am anticipating a few texts now of "was I number X?" or "was number X person 1 or person 2?" I'll answer honestly your very first guess, if you so choose to ask. Because I'm a good sport like that.
Saturday, September 10, 2011
Reflections On Turning 25
My birthday was last Friday. The whole day was amazing. I treated myself to a facial in the morning, work went well, then my family came over and we had a little four person celebration, and then we went o dinner along with a bunch of my friends. Ariel and Andrew came up from Salt Lake; Meagan, Abby, Luke, Jared, Alex, DJ, and Gerrit were all there and looked really, really good; Jim stayed in Pocatello a few extra days to be there and he and Kyle sat together; Whitney came a little late because she was at a family function, but she was still there in plenty of time; and Amelia was there looking fabulous as always. Everyone seemed to get along really well. Dinner was excellent, and our waiters were really nice; one even did the group photo for us. We ate in the loft of The Bridge, and it was just our little group upstairs. I bought my own cake and my own flowers (two dozen white roses), and I looked amazing; I felt so powerful and ready to take on the world! I couldn't have asked for a better day, except maybe if Jared and Jess had been able to come over and Jesse wouldn't have had to work. It was fantastic.
For my birthday, I gave myself an amazing gift: the right to stop trying so hard. I've been actively doing my part in dating and working so hard at it - I do a lot of asking, I try to meet people, I do my best to be friendly - and after failing to go on a second date since Nik and I were together, and after nine years of rejections and false starts and painful, broken-hearted nights of crying, I'm done. I don't want to try anymore, and the hope in me is broken. So, I gave myself permission to stop pursuing and trying. It's relieving.
While I find it liberating, I did have a couple of loose ends on my birthday to tie up. One person I was holding out for has finally done the thing that makes me realize there is nothing worth waiting around for. We're still good friends, still "entangled" (I'm hoping, anyway) as it were, but it's clear now that he hasn't only got eyes for me and that's ok. I'm happy for him. The other person I was hoping that something would happen with I confronted about two weeks ago about his situation. I'm worried about him because I think he's become complacent in his life and, as his friend, I'm worried that he's letting opportunities he once wanted to participate in pass him by simply because he's content to not change. Since that conversation, he's been distancing himself from me more and more, and last night I finally realized that, while all practical reasoning says we are fairly perfect for eachother, he isn't in a place to do anything about it and even if he were he likely wouldn't. It's complicated and crappy, but I'm done with it.
So here I am: 25, single, and finally free to do things and make choices and enjoy activities just for me. It's hard, and kind of crappy sometimes (like tonight, when all I want is someone to cuddle up with who will hold me and let me cry and feel sorry for myself). I never would have wished it on myself. I feel a little bit like God let me down and made me promises he hasn't kept, which hurts. BUT I also feel a little free. My life isn't where I would have wished it, but it's not necessarily in a bad place either. I have new dreams that have replaced the ones I used to have. Not better, just different. I've learned a lot, and I only have one major regret from it all. Not bad for a quarter of a century, if I do say so myself.
For my birthday, I gave myself an amazing gift: the right to stop trying so hard. I've been actively doing my part in dating and working so hard at it - I do a lot of asking, I try to meet people, I do my best to be friendly - and after failing to go on a second date since Nik and I were together, and after nine years of rejections and false starts and painful, broken-hearted nights of crying, I'm done. I don't want to try anymore, and the hope in me is broken. So, I gave myself permission to stop pursuing and trying. It's relieving.
While I find it liberating, I did have a couple of loose ends on my birthday to tie up. One person I was holding out for has finally done the thing that makes me realize there is nothing worth waiting around for. We're still good friends, still "entangled" (I'm hoping, anyway) as it were, but it's clear now that he hasn't only got eyes for me and that's ok. I'm happy for him. The other person I was hoping that something would happen with I confronted about two weeks ago about his situation. I'm worried about him because I think he's become complacent in his life and, as his friend, I'm worried that he's letting opportunities he once wanted to participate in pass him by simply because he's content to not change. Since that conversation, he's been distancing himself from me more and more, and last night I finally realized that, while all practical reasoning says we are fairly perfect for eachother, he isn't in a place to do anything about it and even if he were he likely wouldn't. It's complicated and crappy, but I'm done with it.
So here I am: 25, single, and finally free to do things and make choices and enjoy activities just for me. It's hard, and kind of crappy sometimes (like tonight, when all I want is someone to cuddle up with who will hold me and let me cry and feel sorry for myself). I never would have wished it on myself. I feel a little bit like God let me down and made me promises he hasn't kept, which hurts. BUT I also feel a little free. My life isn't where I would have wished it, but it's not necessarily in a bad place either. I have new dreams that have replaced the ones I used to have. Not better, just different. I've learned a lot, and I only have one major regret from it all. Not bad for a quarter of a century, if I do say so myself.
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Surprisingly, I'm not surprised
Generally, I don't love blogs that whine for the sake of whining. My policy tends to be somewhere between "If you don't like what's happening, change what's happening" and "The secret to having it all is believing that you do." In other words, figure out how to fix your problems or quit whining about having them.
And yet today I find that the same complaint I've had for probably about a decade is still true. Somewhere in my 15-year-old brain, I kept hoping that things would change when I, and those around me, became adults. Turns out, the same problems that I had in high school are just as true today as they where nine years ago.
To explain what's happening, I should probably start about six months ago. Last semester, there was a guy in my Stagecrafting class. Seemed like a nice enough guy, and I tried talking to him a couple of times, but he basically seemed to blow me off. Not a big deal. He seemed at the time to be a little more mature than the freshman in the class, which is good seeing as he's three or so years older than I am, so I just chocked it up to the general "I'm more mature than everyone here and most of them are beneath me" attitude that many students get when they're older than nearly all of their peers. I'm guilty of the same attitude on occasion. Whatever.
Flash forward to Monday. After a few times of people goading me to register at PlentyOfFish.com, I decided to finally give in. After all, one never knows where he or she will find the opportunity that leads them to their next relationship. So, swallowing my pride and realizing that I was a hypocrite to do so after all that I've said about online dating, I filled out a profile and uploaded a picture. Huzzah?
Amusingly, this same guy was one of my top matches after I'd registered. We happen to have some contact via the theater department for the next couple of weeks, so I mentioned it to him on Tuesday. He went on and found me yesterday, and sent me his number. He mentioned to me yesterday that he'd found my profile, and told me that I was something of a mystery because apparently my behavior in the theater building doesn't match my profile.
So when I got home last night, I checked my POF email to see what was up, and we both ended up being online. We IMed, then we texted, and things seemed to be going ok. He's interesting, and apparently I was interesting to him. Seemed like a good sign.
He mentioned several times that he prefers truth and is open about things, but that he's shy and he doesn't get subtlety, so after some more texting this morning I mentioned that I'm fed up with calling the shots in relationships of any kind and that, if things were going to move past us being texting buddies, he'd have to make the effort first. I also said that I was looking for a relationship and not a quick hookup. And apparently that freaked him out. I guess I don't get it: I suppose being open about things is his specialty, not something he likes from others.
Or maybe he's just being like nearly every other guy I've met. See, men seem to have this problem. They say they want certain things in a woman - intelligence, independence, honesty - or that they don't like certain things - head games, promiscuity, Jessica-Simpson-esque conversation skills - and yet, when a woman like they've claimed to want shows up, rejection ensues.
This isn't just something that happens to me. I know plenty of amazing, confident, intelligent, beautiful women who are single because men seem to be falling all over themselves to date the women who exhibit the media's idea of perfection and who are exactly what they claim to be trying NOT to find. I don't understand this.
My silly little example is but one among many. And who knows, maybe he's just waiting until he sees me tonight to hash it out. But I doubt it. I think that men would prefer that women go back to being 50s house wives, a la Stepford Wives. It makes me sick. No wonder I'm tired of dating.
And yet today I find that the same complaint I've had for probably about a decade is still true. Somewhere in my 15-year-old brain, I kept hoping that things would change when I, and those around me, became adults. Turns out, the same problems that I had in high school are just as true today as they where nine years ago.
To explain what's happening, I should probably start about six months ago. Last semester, there was a guy in my Stagecrafting class. Seemed like a nice enough guy, and I tried talking to him a couple of times, but he basically seemed to blow me off. Not a big deal. He seemed at the time to be a little more mature than the freshman in the class, which is good seeing as he's three or so years older than I am, so I just chocked it up to the general "I'm more mature than everyone here and most of them are beneath me" attitude that many students get when they're older than nearly all of their peers. I'm guilty of the same attitude on occasion. Whatever.
Flash forward to Monday. After a few times of people goading me to register at PlentyOfFish.com, I decided to finally give in. After all, one never knows where he or she will find the opportunity that leads them to their next relationship. So, swallowing my pride and realizing that I was a hypocrite to do so after all that I've said about online dating, I filled out a profile and uploaded a picture. Huzzah?
Amusingly, this same guy was one of my top matches after I'd registered. We happen to have some contact via the theater department for the next couple of weeks, so I mentioned it to him on Tuesday. He went on and found me yesterday, and sent me his number. He mentioned to me yesterday that he'd found my profile, and told me that I was something of a mystery because apparently my behavior in the theater building doesn't match my profile.
So when I got home last night, I checked my POF email to see what was up, and we both ended up being online. We IMed, then we texted, and things seemed to be going ok. He's interesting, and apparently I was interesting to him. Seemed like a good sign.
He mentioned several times that he prefers truth and is open about things, but that he's shy and he doesn't get subtlety, so after some more texting this morning I mentioned that I'm fed up with calling the shots in relationships of any kind and that, if things were going to move past us being texting buddies, he'd have to make the effort first. I also said that I was looking for a relationship and not a quick hookup. And apparently that freaked him out. I guess I don't get it: I suppose being open about things is his specialty, not something he likes from others.
Or maybe he's just being like nearly every other guy I've met. See, men seem to have this problem. They say they want certain things in a woman - intelligence, independence, honesty - or that they don't like certain things - head games, promiscuity, Jessica-Simpson-esque conversation skills - and yet, when a woman like they've claimed to want shows up, rejection ensues.
This isn't just something that happens to me. I know plenty of amazing, confident, intelligent, beautiful women who are single because men seem to be falling all over themselves to date the women who exhibit the media's idea of perfection and who are exactly what they claim to be trying NOT to find. I don't understand this.
My silly little example is but one among many. And who knows, maybe he's just waiting until he sees me tonight to hash it out. But I doubt it. I think that men would prefer that women go back to being 50s house wives, a la Stepford Wives. It makes me sick. No wonder I'm tired of dating.
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| For my male readers: your apparent ideal |
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