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.

Hiding the Ball

I recently read an article about a study that measured the happiness of married couples one, five and ten years after marriage.  And they didn't measure the happiness of just any old married couples; they compared happiness of arranged marriages versus "love marriages."  Surprisingly (or maybe unsurprisingly), the couples whose marriages had been arranged were happier than their love marriage peers five years after getting hitched and much MUCH happier ten years after tying the knot.

Granted I have no idea how this study "measured" and "compared" happiness, but my first thought was well, obviously, the arranged marriage couples were quote unquote happier.  Their expectations were lower!  Happiness is nothing if not relative.  Case in point: I loved law school.  But was I actually happier while I was in law school than I had been in college or at any point in my life before that?  Or was it simply that I had expected it to be horrible and when it wasn't, I was suddenly not just happy that it didn't suck but I was also happy that my decision to attend law school had been validated and I wouldn't eventually regret being saddled with a miserable amount of debt to pay for a miserable three years.  So, my point is, of course arranged marriage couples are happier.  They probably expected it to suck.   So when it didn't suck as much as it did, they were happy that it didn't suck and on top of it all, they were happy that they were happy.

(Or.  Maybe the people whose marriages were arranged had spent two years being single in New York and had given up hope that they would ever find anyone so they were just grateful that their parents were able to find someone for them to marry at all.)

The study did not espouse any such cynical theories.  The one that struck me the most was the idea that in arranged marriages, everyone's faults are out there on the table from the start.  Everything has already been vetted and all the cobwebs have been swept out of the closet.  You know exactly what you're getting into.  On the the other hand, with 21st century dating, you can spend months getting to know someone and still have no idea what the catch is.

Now, I realize that maybe not everyone has a catch.   And for my own sanity, I think I'd want to know that too.  If there are NO deal breakers attached to a particular guy, it would be great to know that up front, so I could stop looking for faults and stop waiting for the other shoe to drop.  I feel like I've spend way too much time trying to figure out the end of the phrase "he's really great but..."  And similarly, I feel like I've expended a lot of energy hiding my crazy girl side from guys I've dated.  So maybe it would be nice to just say to a guy at the very beginning, "Hi, nice to meet you.  And by the way, I can get a little nutso at times, I'm a commitment-phobe and I don't like holding hands."

This all sounds so nice to me in theory.  After years of futilely playing the dating game, the idea of having a little cheat sheet, a guide to getting the next level in Mario Bros., well, it just sounds lovely.  But then I wonder, if I did have such a cheat sheet, would I ever give anyone a chance in the first place? Would anyone give me a chance in the first place?  Maybe it IS better not to know someone's faults until you've had a chance to meet each other and sparks have flown.  Maybe it's only after falling in love with someone that you can really accept someone's faults because you actually want the good to outweigh the bad.

So is it better to have all the information up front?   Or is it better to keep hiding the ball?  I'm not sure.

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.

It's Not You, It's Me. Or Is It?

I finally went on a third date with 'G'. (I decided that even though there is a chance that I may never speak to this kid again, he still gets a letter.  Because he is representative of my inability to commit.  Because he is an archetypal "Good Guy."  And because I was avoiding assigning someone the letter 'G' and just needed to be done with it already.)  'G' is the guy that I avoided going a third date with a few weeks back for no good reason.  I just wasn't feeling it at the time.  And after Date #3, I waffled.

Like I said, 'G' is a Good Guy.  The worst I can say about him is that he is from New Jersey.  And that he didn't step up and plan our second date.   That's it.  Seriously, no obvious flaws.  Objectively, I honestly have nothing else negative to say about him.  And this is Negative, Cynical Me actively looking for faults.  Conversely, there's nothing spectacular about 'G' either.  Nothing stands out.  I never wrote about our first date, because other than what we did on our first date (which I planned), there was nothing to tell.  I never wrote about our second date, because other than the fact that he was terrible at planning the second date, there was nothing to tell.  And similarly, there is nothing to tell about our third date.

Now this all makes it sound like he is boring.  Or that I am bored when I am with him.  But neither of those things is true.  He's interesting enough and we have plenty to talk about.  Our dates are totally fine.  Fun even.  But am I itching to go out with him again?  No.  

Hence, the waffling.

This weekend, I went down to DC, and on the bus trip down, I decided pretty definitively that I wasn't going to see him again.  I even got so far as to figure out how I was going to tell him that I didn't want to see him anymore (a phone call with the "I just can't date right now" and "There's this other guy" and "I have baggage, you don't want to date me" type of speech).  

But then on the bus trip back (which was longer, thank you I-95), I decided maybe I should go out with him again.  I thought about all the girls I knew who hadn't been totally swept off their feet on their first dates with their now significant others.  I thought about how many of them were just kind of "eh" about their guys.  I thought about how many of them expressed lukewarm feelings, but kept going out with these boys anyway, and then ended up (gradually) falling in love.  It made me wonder whether my entire search for a boyfriend is sort of doomed from the start, because I want that instant gratification, that immediate spark.  Am I giving up on guys too quickly?  Perhaps.  Am I simply not committed enough to the idea of being in a relationship to stick it out and gradually fall for someone?  Probably.  Is it me and my mindset and my inability to commit getting in the way of my own happiness again?  Almost definitely.

But then I remembered how ready I was to be in a relationship back in January, with 'D', and that sends my mindset theory flying out the window...

Letting Go, A Follow-Up

When I re-read what I wrote last night in the light of day, it just suddenly seemed so clear to me.  I mean, sure, maybe the reason nothing has changed in my life in the last two years is simply that I have been waiting for the Perfect Guy, the Perfect Apartment, the Perfect Puppy or the Perfect Job to come along before plunging into a relationship, home-ownership, "motherhood" or a new career.

Or, maybe I am just a huge commitment-phobe.

Letting Go

Last weekend, I was catching up with a friend I hadn't seen in a couple months.  My friend had all sorts of new developments in his life.  He had a new nephew.  He and his long-term girlfriend had broken up.  He had already gone out on a first date (with a cougar!).  He was entering a new stage in his career.

And then we turned to me.   "So, where are you living now?"  "Oh...the same place as before."  "I thought the last time I saw you, you were looking at moving?"  "Oh...yeah, still looking."  "Did you get a puppy?" "Oh...no, still no puppy."  "And did you quit yet?" "Oh...uhh no...not yet..."  (At least he spared me the "are you seeing anyone" question.  I suppose he knows me well enough to know that the answer to that question never changes.)  "Wow," he said, "What happened to all your plans?!"

We laughed, but then later, I couldn't help but think, what DID happen to all my plans?  Or, more precisely, why haven't I followed through with any of these things that I talk and obsess about all the time?  These things - apartment, dog, job - are all things that are more or less in my control, and yet I simply cannot seem to pull the trigger.  I keep hesitating, stalling.  Sure, they're big life decisions and certainly choices not to be made hastily, but still.  What am I waiting for?  What is holding me back?

And then this weekend, I avoided going on a third date for absolutely no good reason.  I didn't have any real set plans, and it would've been easy to have met up with him on Saturday or Sunday night.  But I didn't.  I lied.  I made stuff up.  And then I made plans so I wouldn't feel as guilty about making stuff up.  I was purposefully trying to stall our progress.  The thing is, he's actually a pretty great guy.  We have a good rapport, and he is genuinely nice without being boring.  And to me, he seems, well, safe.  Drama-free.  So why am I hesitant to move things forward with him?  Why am I shying away from a chance to actually try to have a stable, adult relationship?  What am I waiting for?  What am I holding on to?

When you're single, it can be so easy to cling to the dream that maybe one day things will magically work out with the one who got away - the ex-boyfriend, the best friend, the summer fling, the boy who moved 500 miles away.  It's so easy to keep retreating back into the comfort and familiarity of that someone, even when you know deep down that it would never actually work out.  It's easier to hold on to even just the idea of that someone than it is to get out there, start fresh and go on those first, second and third dates.

I don't think I'm holding on to the idea of things working out with a specific person so much anymore as I am to just the idea of the Perfect Guy.  And no matter what I've said in the past, maybe I'm still not quite ready to give up the dream of someone else, the dream of the Perfect Guy.