Maybe Honesty Really is the Best Policy

So after spending the week kind of responding to texts and emails from 'F' and kind of flat-out ignoring them, I saw him again.  At some point, out of the blue, he turned to me and said, "So why have you been so mad at me this week?"

I didn't even hesitate.  "Well, do you want me to start from the beginning?"  And then I laid it out for him.  You can't cancel on me and just totally get away with it.

Now had this occurred pre-Springtime Resolution, I would've denied being mad.  I would've shrugged it off.  I would've pretended that he was just being silly.  "Me?!  Mad?  Oh no.  I wasn't intentionally not responding to your emails - work was just really busy."  Actually, pre-Springtime Resolution, such a question would never even have been posed because he wouldn't have known that I was mad at him in the first place.  I would never have let it show so clearly that I was peeved at being cancelled on.  I would've just pretended that it wasn't a big deal at all or said something to make him feel less guilty.  "Oh, no worries.  I ended up having to work late that night anyway."  I've always preferred that guys view me as a calm, collected, easy-going, rational girl.  Because who wants to date the crazy bitch who spazzes out at you all the time?

So when I did "spaz" out at 'F', I think it may have been the most honest I've been with a guy about my feelings in a while, maybe ever.  Rather ironic, considering I don't see this as a long-term thing.  But maybe that's just it.  I wasn't worried that he would think I was acting crazy if I told him I was mad.  I wasn't concerned that things might end if I showed some emotion.   I could be honest with him because I wasn't caught up in trying to turn us into a relationship.

The result?  Things didn't end because I got mad at him.  And that feeling of not holding things back was actually liberating.  

Games

I am totally 100% guilty of playing games right now.  With 'F', the boy I met at a bar and who inspired my Springtime Resolution.

Now, I'd say that generally, while I play the game, but I don't really play games.  The distinction?  Yes, I screen calls and I'll wait a few hours before responding to an email even if I read it 20 seconds after it popped into my inbox. But I don't do those somewhat mean little things that girls do to make boys wonder if the girl really likes him.  I try to be clear or at least consistent in my signals.  Well.  I suppose a few boys from my past might disagree with that last statement.  Whatever.  I'm working on it.

Although not right now, and definitely not with 'F'.  So the whole point of the Springtime Resolution was not to read too much into things and just kind of enjoy the ride, right?  Which worked out just fine until 'F' and I had plans last night and he cancelled on me.  At the last minute.  For no reason.  Now, I'm no stranger to cancellations, and well, frankly, it just kind of sucks.  Now, it was a Monday night, and it's not as though I had alternative plans.  But I was still annoyed.  And then I got annoyed that I was annoyed!  I mean, things were supposed to be carefree and easy with 'F'.  If I was trying not to really care about him, then why would I care that he cancelled?  The more I thought about it, the more I became enraged.  It was almost worse that I was trying to view things casually and he still managed to be the one calling the shots.  Which of course got me thinking that clearly this whole casual don't-think-about-it-too-much approach isn't much better than the is-this-my-future-husband approach.  It's the same game, just without the hope of marriage at the end of the tunnel to make the game worth it in the end.

Well, so much for my Springtime Resolution.  I guess I will just go back to trying to find a good ol' fashioned boyfriend.  Eventually.  Once this little game with 'F' ends.

A Springtime Resolution

I don't know what it is about the spring that makes me feel like I need to adjust my philosophy on dating. 

It was at about this same time last year that I made two dating decisions.  The first was to date more just for the sake of dating.  This was because I felt I was an inexperienced dater, having spent the last seven years of my life in higher educational environments where no one dates, they just hook-up.  The second was to go on more second dates.  This was because I felt I was nixing guys too quickly and not giving them a fair chance.

Now I was pretty good at doing both of these.  The first decision meant that if you asked me out and you were a boy and you didn't have horns growing out of your head, you had about a 90% chance that I would go out on a first date with you.  And the second decision meant that if you asked me out and you were a boy and you didn't have horns growing out of your head, you had about an 80% chance that I would go out on two dates with you (though, I suspect these odds have now been greatly decreased given my last two first dates).

So this week, I met someone new.  We had fun.  And by fun, I mean that we made out at the bar.  Clearly one of my finer moments.  I told some of my girlfriends about him, and their first question was, "So? Potential?"  They probably meant, "Potential date?"  But in my mind, the question "Potential?" is merely short for "Potential boyfriend?"  So of course, I started thinking and obsessing about whether or not there was potential with this totally random guy who I hardly knew and who I made out with at a bar (!) before I had smack myself back to reality.  Was I really just wondering if someone I met at a bar and made out with could be a potential boyfriend? Why, oh why, do I always have to be obsessed with whether or not someone is the one?

So enter my 2010 spring dating philosophy resolution.  I want to enjoy things for what they are.  Worry less about where something is going.  Enjoy things as they are happening.  Agonize less about whether I should call someone and just do it.  Stop trying to see every guy I meet as a potential boyfriend.  Oh and stop making out with boys at bars.

Not What You Said But How You Said It

So I went on a date last weekend with this guy that I met the weekend before that.  My initial impression of him was pretty lukewarm, but I was feeling open-minded about the whole thing because the date itself sounded promising.  It was the first gorgeous spring day in New York, and the plan was to picnic in the park.  Unfortunately, the picnic was a Disaster with a capital D.  Had it been any other guy, I'm sure I would've just said, "Let's pretend this never happened and go on a second first date."

But with him, I didn't.  I couldn't quite put my finger on what I disliked about him initially.  My first thought was, well, he was nice...I guess.  And he was...I guess.  He was polite, good-natured, maybe a little boring, but there was nothing overtly offensive about him.  Which of course made me feel a smidge guilty for nixing him after the first date, especially since it wasn't really his fault that the date was a Disaster.  But thinking back, I now know what it was that I didn't like about him.  He was just like any other career-obsessed, full-of-himself guy in New York, except that he tried to hide it behind his I'm-just-a-nice-humble-boy-from-the-midwest facade.  And it was that facade that I found the most offensive.

The thing about living in New York is that everyone you meet tends to be young and successful.  Everyone has something to be proud of, whether it's the guy in the suit on his BlackBerry who just closed a multimillion dollar deal or the guy working the night shift in the copy center who also happens to be a back-up dancer in hit music videos.  Sometimes you can never tell what a person has achieved so far, while other times they wear it on their sleeves.  I have certainly met my fair share of arrogant douchebags, but not once in my last year of dating lawyers, bankers, hedge fund managers, architects and doctors did I have someone give me a full and very detailed run-down of his resume.  On a first date.  Which is what this guy did. 

It was as though he felt compelled to explain his success because maybe it wasn't immediately obvious from his job title.  Fair enough.  I had never heard of his company, so sure, it was enlightening to hear what he did.  But he didn't stop there.  He proceeded to tell me the full story of how he got his first job, why he decided to leave his first job, how he wound up getting his second job, why his second employer moved him to New York, and THEN, he went on to tell me how his dad's business was bought out by a major company, how his parents looked to buy their winter house in several tropical countries before settling on Florida, and how his 21-year-old brother had a wildly successful club-promoting career on par with the 40-year-olds in the industry.

And all of this in approximately an hour.

So okay, after writing it all down, he does sound pretty awful.  But really, that wasn't even the worst part!  Sure, it was partly what he said, but it definitely more how he said it.  How he pretended to be humble.  How he pretended like he was just telling me stories about his life when he was doing nothing more than spewing and gushing about how great he was.

Which is only mildly ironic considering the reason the date was a Disaster was that he had diarrhea.

Oops

I can never bring myself to delete phone numbers from my phone book.  It's partly sentimentality and it's partly just that I am a pack rat.  So, naturally, I have all these random guys' phone numbers in my phone.  On occasion, this causes a lot of confusion for me when I come across a random "Mike" or "Adam" or other generic name in my phone book and can't figure out who they are.  But still, I never delete.  Instead, I re-organized my phone book so that anyone who I've met randomly is in there as "Random - [Name]."  A few are even in there as "Random - [Name of bar]."  This also helps to avoid awkwardly calling the wrong person.

But it doesn't prevent it completely.

Last night, I was trying to call a friend to tell him I was running late to meet him.  Unfortunately, said friend is in the middle of a phone book minefield.  I have 5 guys in my phone with his name, AND he just happens to be smushed right in between 'C' and 'A'.  I'm always afraid that I will accidentally call 'C' and break our collective silence, since we haven't actually spoken since December 2008.  I've never worried so much about calling 'A', the guy that I went on one perfect date with before he moved to Seattle.  But of course, yesterday, instead of calling my friend, I called 'A'.  I didn't even realize until I got his voice mail.  Two minutes later, the following text conversation ensued:

'A': Did you call me on purpose?
Me: No sorry!  Too many people named [name] in my phone.  Hope all is well.
'A': Ouch.
'A': Well...I was at dinner or I would've answered...
Me: That would've been hilariously awkward since I didn't even realize I called the wrong [name] until I got your voice mail!
'A': Are you going to make out with the other [name] at the [building where we made out] too?

Oh 'A'.  If only you hadn't moved.

Evidence, Part II

Okay, so my friend emailed me today to tell me that my last post was depressing even HER.  Oops.  I know the title says "sometimes depressing" and I guess so far, it's been more "mostly depressing" than anything else.  I think it's just a phase.  Or maybe it's just seasonal affective disorder.  Luckily, spring is around the corner and so is a potential date.  Today, I found myself rather prematurely wondering what I might end up writing about him - this kind of random, totally new guy who hasn't even earned a spot in the alphabet yet.  I'm not even going to go into how weird it is that I wasn't thinking about him but what I would write about him.  Truthfully, I don't foresee myself having a particularly strong reaction to him one way or another since I didn't when I first met him, but for the sake of argument, let's say I do.  Let's say I fall completely 100% head-over-heels, madly-in-love with him on our first (not-even-set-yet) date.  Will I still want write about him in an unfiltered way, knowing that if things turn out badly, those permanently inscribed words may haunt me (and depress others)?  I decided the answer is still yes.  Sure, things may turn out terribly and those words may evolve into painful evidence of yet another one of my failed relationships, but I am not going to let that concern stop me from memorializing how I feel because...you know what?  One of these days, I will write some sappy journal or blog entry about how much I like someone and that someone, whoever he is, will be thinking the same thing about me.  And when that day rolls around, my words will no longer be a sad reminder of how wrong I was, but of how right I was.  And then one of you lucky girls will have to go back through these entries or my emails to you, find those gag-inducing sentences and read them out loud at my wedding when you give the maid of honor toast.

And that is when writing it all down will have been totally worth it.

Evidence

It turns out that I have two journals.  There's the ugly, brown journal that I write in from time-to-time and then there's what I like to think of as my travel notebook.  I bought it a mere four months after I bought the ugly, brown journal, partly because the second notebook is conveniently-sized, lightweight and durable, making it more travel-friendly, but also because when you're on an overnight train in Egypt, it looks a lot cooler to whip out a black, Moleskine ("the legendary notebook of artists, writers, intellectuals and travelers") than it does to whip out an ugly, very journal-looking journal.

So yesterday, I was trying to find something to bring around the city with me and remembered my travel notebook.  Looking for the first empty page, I flipped past foreign hotel phone numbers and phonetic spellings of "thank you" and "hello" in four other languages before discovering that the last thing I wrote in my Moleskine was a journal entry about 'D'.

I couldn't bring myself to read what I had written.  From the first few lines, I realized I had written it just after our third date, which meant that it was right about the time that I started thinking he was perfect for me.  I couldn't read any further.  I knew it was probably a girlish gushing of all the things that I had learned and liked about him so far, and I just did NOT want to think about how much I liked him or how hopeful I was at the time.

In the last month or so, I honestly haven't thought about him that much.  Which unfortunately also made me realize that if I wasn't even thinking about him, then for sure, he was not thinking about me...  In any case, working non-stop, going out-of-town and seeing 'E' were all great distractions this month.  Of course, every now and then, 'D' did seep into my thoughts.  Usually when I try to get over someone, I try to forget what I liked about them and focus on all the negatives.  I haven't really done that with 'D' (although I will admit that when I saw him for the first time two weeks ago, I did think to myself, I am definitely cuter than him).  Instead, my thoughts have centered more on whether I really liked him specifically or whether I just really liked the idea of him.  The idea of dating someone who could fit into my life.  The idea of not going on any more first dates.  The idea of being 26 and ready.

I do think all of this is true.  So much of life is about timing, and surely timing did affect my state-of-mind when I started dating 'D'.  Yes, he did fit a lot of my "criteria" but would I have thought he was that great if I had met him two years ago?  Probably not.

Still, no matter how much I try to make why I liked him less about him and more about me, the evidence that could potentially contradict all of this there, in that travel notebook, in my own handwriting, unread.