The End

As the leaves started falling this year, this blog took a turn toward the depressing.

When I started blogging, the purpose was largely to force myself to sit down and write.  As an inveterate procrastinator, having that goal of pushing the "Publish Post" button did wonders for my motivation.  It forced me to gather my thoughts, and it forced me to finish them for once.

Throughout the year, I kept a running tab of all the random things that happened to me that would make good writing material.  I still have a list of ideas for posts that remain unwritten, like the time a guy on the street randomly guessed that I was a lawyer; the fact that all the guys in my life have insanely generic monosyllabic names, like Dan, Dave, Doug, Greg, Jeff, Joe, John, Matt, Mike, Pete, Rob; the time that a guy asked me for my phone number after a softball game by throwing his BlackBerry at me and saying "The keypad's on the left"; the shape of my various first dates - dinners, drinks, baseball games, concerts, ferry rides; the time a 80-year old southern gentleman told me I was one of the most gorgeous women he had ever seen in his life.

But I soon found that while these stories were certainly entertaining, it wasn't what I wanted to think about when I sat down to write.  As the year progressed, my posts became less anecdotal and more introspective.  I concentrated instead on all of the negatives - my frustration with the dating cycle, my fear of ending up alone, my constant battle against being disappointed, my fear of never figuring out what it is I should be doing with my life.

I think introspection every now and then can be a great thing, but as I wallowed in my own self-pity and even started writing a post defending people who feel sorry for themselves, I realized that thinking about myself all the time was not making me a happier person.

As I said way back in January, the point of this blog was for me.  For me to remember.  For me to remember what it was like to be 26, living in New York in 2010.

So without realizing it at the time, I had set an expiration date for this blog.  The year twenty-ten is just a few hours away from being over, and with this post, so is this blog.

Nobody Just Wants To Be Friends

Nobody just wants to be friends.  This has quickly become one of my favorite phrases.  Originally, the phrase was used in this context:

Cute Friend: This older guy who is friends with my friends but isn't friends with any of them on facebook just friended me and then said we should get coffee.  Is that weird?
Cute Friend's Friend: Yes.
Cute Friend: But he's just really friendly.  I think he just wants to be friends.
Cute Friend's Friend: Nobody just wants to be friends.

We started using the phrase repeatedly because said Cute Friend gets this type of "friendly" message all the time.  I think of it as a "feeler" message.  Generally, no one, especially not someone you know through friends, really wants to just lay it out there up front so instead they ask if you want to do something wishy washy that makes you think well, maybe-it's-a-date-but-maybe-it's-not.   The last time I got a feeler message like that, I told him I thought his friend was cute (and then that friend and I dated).  Yeah, I was that brutal.

So anyway, the phrase has become applicable in my own life lately.  The guy I went on one match date with ages ago actually emailed me MULTIPLE TIMES to see if I just wanted to grab lunch in the park or go to an architecture lecture with him or see a movie with him and his friends, you know, "just as friends."  It's probably my own fault since I pulled the "I'm too busy to date" line.  At first I sent him polite, but what I thought were very clear, responses.  And eventually I stopped responding full stop.  Nobody just wants to be friends.

And then 'G', the Good Guy who I just couldn't bring myself to keep dating, emailed me out of the blue a few weeks ago and asked if I'd be interested in hanging out with him and some of his friends now that football season is starting up (Uh, what?  I do not watch football), totally not as a date thing (riiight), just because he thought I was really fun (well, thanks) and might have fun joining up with him and his buddies sometime (because that wouldn't be awkward).  I don't know that I could've had a more negative reaction.  I wondered if I was just being too cynical, so of course I told half my friends (aka forwarded the email) about it, who similarly concurred that it was weird, and then I proceeded to tell an entire bachelorette party the story, and they all thought it was weird too.  Nobody just wants to be friends.  (On the bright side though, in one fell swoop, that email erased any chance of me having any future regrets about ending it with him.)

And then 'F' popped up again.  True to form, I just asked him why the fuck he was emailing me.  In a nutshell, he said, can't I just say hi?  I said, no.  He said, we can't be friends?  And I said, what?  No. Why would we be friends? Nobody just wants to be friends.

Now I know.  It is so absurdly cynical, but if you think about it, in a post-college stage in life, isn't it sort of true?  There's always some reason, as innocuous as it may be, that you wind up exchanging numbers with a member of the opposite sex - whether it's that you want to date them, or that you want to date their friends, or that you want to work for the company they work for, or that you need a new tennis buddy.  Sure you may eventually end up becoming actual friends after you've dated/dated their friends/gotten a job/played sports together, but at the very beginning, there was probably some ulterior motive.  Since graduating, I cannot think of a single straight guy I've become friends with purely because I thought he would be a fun friend.  It's kind of like in that episode of Friends when Joey challenges Phoebe to find/perform a truly selfless act and she fails.

Nobody just wants to be friends.

The Dating Cycle

This weekend, it felt like fall had finally found New York (nevermind that it is supposed to be 89 degrees tomorrow).  I love fall.  I love the sound of leaves crunching underfoot and being able to sleep with the windows open.  I love how fall comes with so many mixed feelings - giddily looking forward to a new school year full of potential while wistfully saying goodbye to the carefree days of summer, eagerly picking crisp, red apples while noticing the sudden absence of lush, summer berries from the produce aisle, wrapping a warm scarf around your neck while reluctantly tucking away your flip flops.  I love how fall feels quiet, but hurried, as though everyone is trying to get as much done as they can before turning in for the winter.

This year, the tidings of fall came with the usual melancholic mix of feelings.  But more present than ever this year was dread.  This fall will usher in my third year at my job.  This fall will mark five years of living alone.  This fall will mean two years have passed since I last saw or spoke to 'C'.  And this fall will mean that I've been actively dating for two years, with not much to show for beyond a few more proverbial notches on the bedpost.

As if I haven't said this enough already, dating is exhausting.  First, there's the exhaustion of trying to get a date - going to bars, weeding through the online profiles and flirting, flirting, flirting.  And then there's the exhaustion of going on first dates - making small talk, putting your best foot forward and smiling, smiling, smiling.  And then there's the exhaustion of the second, third and fourth dates - actually getting to know someone, determining whether you're compatible and analyzing, analyzing, analyzing.

I have yet to make it much further than these stages.  It's like I'm stuck in the board game Chutes and Ladders.  I keep plugging along, square by square.  Occasionally, I get lucky, land on a ladder, get really excited, climb up, and then boom.  On the next roll, I land on a chute and get spiraled right back down to the beginning, where the game begins all. over. again.  

Right now, I feel like I'm at the starting line and it's my turn to roll, but I just don't want to.  I don't want to put myself back through the cycle and risk landing on chute after chute after chute.  I just want to sit here for a moment.  Sit on the sidelines.  Take a moment to stop thinking about boys all the time.  Take a break from thinking about how lonely it would be to live by myself for the next five years, much less the rest of my life. 

I guess this dating break has a lot to do with why I am dreading the fall.  That same quiet, hurried feeling that seems to wash over New Yorkers (and squirrels) as they try to get as much done before winter arrives is taking over me.  I have a completely self-imposed sense of urgency that I need to get to the end of this board game before the sand in the hourglass runs out.  Hence my dreading the fall.  The change of seasons seems to remind me that as long as time is tick, tick, ticking, then I need to keep dating, dating, dating.

But I don't want to.  I just want time to stand still with me for a sec while I take a moment to prepare myself to roll the dice again.

Sigh

I went on a fourth date with 'G' yesterday, and I told numerous little white lies leading up to and during the date.  He originally asked me to do something Friday night, but I said I had plans and suggested brunch on Saturday instead.  After brunch, I faked having to go to work to avoid spending the rest of the afternoon with him, even though I could very easily have worked on Sunday instead.  And when he asked what I was doing Monday night, I pretended to have a soccer game on Monday, even though it's actually on Wednesday.

And afterward, I thought, "Wow, this is so not normal."  It's not normal to have an "Oh, it's just you again" reaction when you get a thoughtful text from a guy you've been dating.  It's not normal to lie to avoid seeing someone.  Not being super excited about going on a date is one thing, but repetitive lying to avoid spending time with someone?  Not normal.

So I went back to trying to decide how I was going to end it.  My girlfriends said I could get away with an email.  And then, I took a poll of some guy friends.  Every single one said that male ego-wise, it was better for the girl to never respond.  Never call back.  Never text back.  Never email back.  Just completely drop off the face of the planet.

I was a little shocked that this was their advice!  I'd be PISSED if I never heard back from a guy after four good dates.  I hate being left hanging.  I'd be sitting there for at least a week, wondering what happened.  "I don't think I can do that," I told them, before remembering I had done exactly that at least twice last year.

Maybe I've matured or grown or something, but really, I think that this last year of dating has made me more sensitive to just how awful it is, for all parties involved, to be out there dating in the first place, without having to deal with selfish, rude, insensitive jerks (like the one I apparently was last year).

So today, when the rain ruined my plans to go to the beach and his plans to do some outdoor drinking and 'G' called to see if I wanted to see a movie instead, I knew I couldn't just not call back.  Here was this nice, great guy who just wanted to spend some time with me, and I was actually contemplating dropping off the face of the planet?  I called and awkwardly told him I just needed to take a break from dating in general (which is true).   I think I probably sounded a bit like I was going to cry (which I did a little later) because his response wasn't, "Uhhhhh okay," it was, "Sure, it's your call, but is everything okay?" When I told him I'd just had a really up-and-down year (also true), he responded, "Well I just want to make sure you're okay," which just made me feel even worse.  Not because I was ending it, but because I couldn't bring myself to like such a nice, good guy.  And then there was the complete and total awkwardness of ending the actual phone call itself.  I may as well have just said, "Have a nice life" and it would've been equally as awkward.

So here I am again, completely of my own volition this time, back at Square 1.

How To Get Over Someone You Didn't Even Like

My "I-hate-boys" attitude sort of bled into this past week too.

It was 'F'.  No, he didn't do anything.  And I was still, STILL thinking about him.  About what?  I don't know.  Do I want him to contact me?  No.  But I still kept wondering what he was up to, if he was spending the night in, if he was working, if he was out, if he was lonely, if he was still mad, if he was thinking about me.

I guess it just goes to show that certain people can get under your skin simply with TIME.  The longest we ever went without talking was a week.  And of course this week, all sorts of things kept reminding me of him.   Things popped up that I would've immediately texted him about a few weeks ago.  I hate that he is actually sort of my "type" and then to top it all off, we actually have that spark of chemistry.  The kind that draws people to each other from clear across the room (or bar in this case).  That, I suppose, is mostly what is to blame for why I let our entire relationship continue to function in such a dysfunctional way.

Ultimately, I hope to find someone who brings out the best in me and vice versa.  That was definitely not the case with 'F'.  We brought out the worst in each other.  The absolute worst.  As much as he makes me crazy angry and as much as I continue to tell myself all the reasons that he is so wrong for me, it still makes me a little sad.  Yet another failure, yet another disappointment, yet another guy who has let me down.

And here I am again, back at Square 1.

Enough is Enough

Last week was a little rough for me.  And by rough, I mean that I had a total "I-hate-boys" week.  Initially, it was because of this guy who I thought was a really great guy.  (Well, he might very well be a great guy who just wasn't into me.  Which sucks, but fair enough, I guess.)  In a nutshell, we're friends, we hooked up, we exchanged lukewarm emails, we made really half-assed plans to get together, we missed each other's phone calls, and that's pretty much been it.  All week, I was more or less rationalizing away his behavior.   And while there are actually legitimate mitigating factors, at the end of the week, when I received yet another lukewarm, lame-ass email, I read it, frowned, walked away from my computer, stopped half-way across the room, went back, read it again, and thought, well, Fuck That Shit.

Later, I related (slash copied and pasted) his email to my go-to straight guy friend, whose interpretation was something along the lines of, well, this doesn't mean that he's not interested.  I went, wait, what?  Said friend then proceeded to lecture me on all the things he thought I had done wrong up to that point and then advise me on how I should act going forward.  Basically, he encouraged me to play a lot of stupid games.  And I thought even more emphatically that time, well, Fuck That Shit.

Mostly, I just couldn't believe that here I was trying to make excuses for this guy.  That is so not my job AT ALL.  I recognize that I'm probably unfairly taking an entire year's worth of frustration at boys out on this poor guy who just happened to stumble into me at a particularly low-point in my life, but that's kind of just it.  There's a point at which enough is enough.  I have wasted so much time and energy making excuses for boys, hoping that one day they'll come around, waiting for the day things will magically be different.  I guess that is sort of why it's taken me so long to cut 'F' (who also resurfaced in the MOST frustrating manner this week as well) out of my life.  With 'F', I knew from Day 2 (seriously, Day 2) that he was not right for me.  And yet, I convinced myself that it was fun and not particularly detrimental to my life in any way, so I let it drag on for practically four months, far past the point at which it stopped being fun.  And gradually, during that time, this very small part of me started to hope, even believe, that one day, we'd wake up and he'd suddenly be different.  He'd make some grand gesture and grow the fuck up.

So when 'F' did resurface, I caved and agreed to see him.   Every single thing about him that day simply reconfirmed what I already knew about him.  In fact, everything single thing about him that day actually made me angry that I was there at all.  And when I told him that this was the end of the line for us, he was astonished (and pissed).  He kept asking, "What changed?"

Nothing.

Nothing had changed between Day 2 and now.  But do I really want him to change?  Do I really want to be with someone who has to come around to the idea of being with me?  Do I really want to waste my time waiting for someone to change?  Do I want to be with someone with whom I have to play games to get to date me?  Do I want to be with someone that I have to wear down before he'll fall in love with me?   No.  Fuck That Shit.

Life's too short.

Silence

I once went to a silent dance party.

When you walked in, someone gave you a pair of headphones to wear - the funny, ear-muff looking kind.  Each pair came with a little remote control allowing you to choose to listen to one of three stations.  So, you could go up to someone, start dancing with them and tell pretty much right away if they were on the same wavelength as you (pun intended).  It was pretty amazing.  You had so much control!  If you got sick of a song, you could change the station.  You could decide how loud you wanted the music to be so you didn't have to go home with your ears were ringing (unless you wanted to).  But soon enough the novelty wore off.  The headphones were uncomfortable. It was even harder than usual to talk to people.  And you weren't actually in control of what music you listened to since your choices were limited to three stations.  After about five minutes, it was just weird.

This is kind of how I've come to feel about silence from an ex. At first it's great. There are no reminders of them in your inbox or your call log. You don't have to talk to them or see them if you don't want to. Out of sight, out of mind.  But soon enough, you realize that you're not actually in control.  The silence becomes uncomfortable. And then it just becomes weird.

Take 'C' for instance. 'C' is an old flame who I haven't heard from since December 2008.  It is February 2010!  It is driving me a little crazy.  I just want to email him and say, "Are you alive?" Yes? Good. Okay, bye.  'C' and I never talked on a regularly basis to begin with; we'd email randomly maybe every two to three months.  Actually, I used to hate it when he contacted me.  I swear he had this sixth sense.  I wouldn't hear from him and then boom.  Completely out of the blue, he'd email or call me at a moment when I was feeling down or when something significant was going on in my life.  So naturally, when all this happened, I almost expected him to pop back into my life.  But no.  All is quiet on the western front.

What's funny is that I think I should probably be more bothered by the radio silence coming from 'D'.  'D' is my most recent disappointment and I haven't heard from him at all since things ended.  Sure, I may have said something along the lines of "don't bother" when he said he'd call me.  And sure, I guess it's not that crazy that I haven't heard from him, since it's not as thought I ever contact boys after I end things with them, but still!  I can't help but think things should have played out differently with 'D'.

Okay, I know, I could break the silence.  It's mostly pride (and gmail's mail goggles) that's stopping me from emailing 'C' and 'D' myself.  Maybe one day I'll give in, but for now, I'm okay with dancing around in the silence, and maybe I'm just not quite ready for those funny-looking ear-muff headphones to come off.