I saw this quote highlighted on theFrisky and it made me smile. I have been blessed with extra luckiness in almost every area of my life – finding parking spaces, winning at slot machines, etc – but that hasn’t quite extended to the area of romance.
After some time to let my thoughts marinate, so to speak, I feel like this came across rather pessimistically. The truth is that I had a great time on a first date. That’s really it, and that’s all it needs to be. If something more should come of that, awesome, but I’m at a point where I can appreciate the value of the moment. Sometimes I have to remind myself to focus on the here and now, but hey, I’m not perfect. :) I hope I don’t come across as self-pitying, because I’m actually feeling… analytical, maybe. I guess this post was initially about venting, and then about telling myself to cut the crap a little.
For a long time I was upset because I didn’t have the so-called typical dating experience that I saw on shows like Saved by the Bell. (I think that really just reflects a change in how people dated, and thus wasn’t really about me at all, btw) Even though I didn’t see that happening much in real life, I still felt like I hadn’t had the pleasure of a “real” dating history. Now I’m having what I’m pretty sure are normal dating issues, good and bad, and I’m actually pretty happy to be having them. :)
My first dates have recently been notoriously bad for what is perhaps a unique reason…I truly have no idea that they didn’t go well. Let me rewind a little. I am freakishly empathetic and good at reading other people’s emotions. For the most part, I will be aware of your subtle mood changes, perhaps even before you realize them for yourself. I have a HUGE blind spot, though, when it comes to men who may or may not be interested in me. Men of the world, please take note – if you have been hitting on me, I did not know. Three times in the past year, I’ve had seemingly innocent conversations with guys at shows, the grocery store, etc. Each time I thought we were just chatting, and each time someone else has asked me afterwards why I wasn’t into the guy. I might have been interested, but I truly had no idea whatsoever that they were attempting to hit on me. To be fair, though, one was at 711 & I was hungover & desperate for coffee, so I was pretty focused on the caffeine.
On the flip side, though, is an unpleasant reality I’ve recently discovered…I have no idea when guys don’t like me, either. If he is up front and tells me, then yes, of course I get it. But I’ve been on a succession of first dates that I thought went really well, only to discover that the man has no interest in seeing me again. I truly do not know why, or what I may be doing wrong. I guess I thought that, by dating guys who like plus size women, I was going to find an instant, easy match. Instead, I suspect I am experiencing the world of dating as it is for most people. This has also made me realize some things about my own personality that I both like and dislike. Once the excuse of him not liking my weight has been eliminated, I have to look at the other, usual things, like personality, sense of humor, etc.
This is where my confusion comes in, because I honestly see myself as beautiful, funny, brilliant, and kind. I worry that this makes me egotistical, because I really dislike that quality in others. But I try to look at things realistically. I am, in fact, beautiful, funny, brilliant, and kind. Those aren’t bragging so much as just statements about who I am. I’m also too loud sometimes, and a huge dork, and I probably talk too much. I don’t really care about the latest fashions and my car isn’t something fancy for me to show off – it’s a form of transportation. I care too much and fall too hard, too fast. I don’t like clubs and bars as much as I like pubs and dive bars, but ultimately my favorite Friday night activity is decompressing at home. I have a high-pitched voice that I can’t help but use when confronted with a baby or animal of almost any kind. I’m a super picky eater, to the degree of inspiring a puzzling level of rage in such of my dining companions.
So it’s not like I’m oblivious to my bad traits, but I’m completely unsure as to what is going wrong on these dates. I guess this is just what dating is? I will just keep being me, even if that means I get super excited at seeing movie previews in 3D for the first time, or I have to ditch my heels and switch back to flip-flops because I didn’t make sure my shoes fit properly before heading out. I’m quite sure that there’s a guy out there who will find me pretty damn adorable. If you happen to know where he is, could you please point him in my general direction?
PS – the rest of the quote was just too damned good to exclude, so here ya go:
Dating is like a job interview for a prison cell. If that’s not bad enough, dating has too many rules. There are too many ways to lose. Wear a clean shirt. Express interest in another human being. Stop being, for a few hours, singularly obsessed with your own petty ambitions and boring pleasures. Apparently, it’s rude to have an erection during a date. Or, at least, to talk about it. Which is bogus. Bogus to the max. My erection is my body’s very own rainbow.
So there. Read this and weep, ladies. I am off the market. If I want sex, I will call one of you. BUT I WILL ONLY RING ONCE. Because my sexual fury is an opportunity. I won’t text you. No, no, no. I don’t “text” my jungle urges. You’ll be sitting in your PJs reading, I don’t know, some book about a woman who overcomes an obstacle like every other single person on this planet and I will telepathically fax you an invitation to play naked Tetris. If you fail to pick up the phone or read my mind, then good luck with life. I have other options.