I honestly don’t know how many times I’m supposed to be back here. Once again, someone who seemed promising started to distance himself. Then finally reveal that his ex is coming to visit him soon, and that they “just” broke up. More than 6 months ago. And that he doesn’t think anything might happen.
Doesn’t think so? How about knows for sure? How about that?
I am sick and tired of the games and the drama. When will this end?
Why is it so goddamned difficult to find someone to date?
Some melodies manage to bring out or sum up that echoing space of loneliness. The Cure’s “Plainsong” does it for me every time.
Sometimes everything comes from all quarters, and it’s all unwanted.
I’m not sure what happened, but I’m in a dating lull at the moment. What seemed at one point promising with The Analyst evaporated, like so much ethanol on warm skin. He was supposed to come over to my neighbourhood last weekend, but he never showed up, and he didn’t reply to my text. I know it’s not because he’s suddenly dead or something catastrophic happened to him; I saw his log on details on the dating website where we’d met. I thought things had gone really well. I guess he got cold feet. Or perhaps my hunch that he’d just broken up with someone was right — and that the other person had come back in his life again. At the least, I thought he’d have given me some indication of a reason for the abrupt shift.
Meanwhile the only real option seems to be the insatiable Author, who is both too old for me and too voracious. It’s a combination I find tedious and terribly dull. He wants me to sleep with a woman, in his presence. It’s a male desire so typical and so banal that I don’t even find the challenge of finding a suitable woman or the novelty of an orgy worth pursuing.
Instead, I wish he would invite me to the events he tends to go to — professional award ceremonies which would kill lesser mortals, but which always make me incredibly fascinated. I told him I was always up for that type of event, but received no invitation, only a request for acclamation and praise. Like I said. Dull.
There’s another singles event I’ll be going to this Thursday. It’s organized by the same group and it’s a similar event to the one where I met The Charmer. I don’t have high hopes for this one. Expecting to meet someone with instant chemistry again is, I think, like asking to be struck by lightning twice.
And that’s another disappointment. The Charmer promised he’d call after his trip — a week has gone by, with no word from him. I don’t know why I even waited, I think this was his way of letting me down easy. I guess I was just hoping.
Sometimes, I hate romantic movies. Or romantic scenes in movies. They bring up that aching, yearning sensation for intimacy, physical and emotional, which is generally present in most romantic relationships, even if the relationship’s going off the rails.
Yesterday afternoon I spoke with The Grad Student, who told me that he’d had a rough night, dreaming about his ex. He dreamt that he asked her why she just left, instead of telling him or talking to him. He’d awakened, angry and disappointed, and called me to talk about it. We went through the usual “why are you in this spot, what do you need to move on” stuff, but something he said made me think about the way that loneliness is so hard to delimit. It’s one of those things that just seeps up in quiet moments, a nagging lack.
Work is a good distraction, but no one can work all day, all the time. Friends are great, too, but the conversation ends, and echoes of that intimacy slowly fade into the emptiness.
My overly ambitiously planned week has just fallen apart. My body refused to cooperate: I am now officially sick.
It’s nothing that serious. And to be honest, I’m feeling relieved. It was way too much for my body to handle, and I was overdue for a break.
I managed to network yesterday, fill in all of my obligations and put in my not unusual 16 hour day, including some fun stuff for myself, like a chance to eat at a restaurant I’d been wanting to check out for some time. I also bought myself a little present in honour of birthday week: an unlimited week-long transit pass to give me an excuse to get out and gleefully sight-see to my heart’s content. I live in New York City, for goodness’ sakes. It’s about time I travelled its length and breadth, explored every nook and cranny, adventured as much as I care to.
I’m also relieved, because it means that my plans to accommodate Corporate Lawyer and have him stay over for the first time in my apartment have thankfully fallen through. Having him stay here brings the relationship to a whole new level that I’m just not comfortable with.
So instead, I returned home, took a shower, slipped into my pjs, and am listening to some music I absolutely adore and don’t often get a chance to listen to.
Later, I might pour myself a glass of red wine that I also rarely get a chance to sip, slip in a movie or click through a selection on Netflix, continue writing a short story I’ve been neglecting for the last few weeks, and savour the dull steady current of aloneness that late nights and early mornings bring into focus.
And if I really get bored, I might even call some friends.
Last night my friend The Artist got really drunk. So drunk she ended up being taken care of by my other friend The Grad Student. We had all been at the networking event, and we’d gone out to a bar afterwards (where I met up with The Corporate Lawyer).
While the Corporate Lawyer and I left to get a bite to eat, my friends stayed at the bar, chatting happily. This morning the Grad Student called and gave me the scoop. Apparently The Artist had been so drunk that she’d been unable to walk without assistance when they left the bar. As he told it, since she was way too drunk to make it back to her house, he took her to his home and put her to bed. She proceeded to vomit all over the subway car in the ride back to his apartment. And then into a bucket he’d thoughtfully placed by her head, all night. And into the morning. Poor woman!
The Artist is still really hung up about her ex, the Man-Child. The Grad Student told me about their conversation in the morning, where The Artist went on at length about how poorly her ex had treated her, and how she thought he had been too premature in his decision to end the relationship. She’s still in Step 1 of the breakup, of course. It was only about 2 weeks ago that they’d broken up.
I was glad that my two friends, and now two new friends to each other, could look out for each other and take care of each other when they needed help.
Corporate Lawyer and I had dinner this evening, much to my surprise. It was a last-minute thing.
I’d had to go to a networking event after work, and met him after the event. During dinner, we’re having a good time, and I realised how much I’d missed talking to a sane person, after the last week spent obsessing over The Charmer. We talked about the Oscars, and he let slip that he has an old friend staying with him right now, a fellow lawyer. He’s dropped her name a few times and mentioned her casually in conversation enough for me to ask for clarification on their relationship.
I immediately felt guilty that I’d asked. I mean, it’s not like I have been completely truthful with him.
But it’s so weird. I get the feeling that he likes the freedom he has to date other people, but we both don’t really like the feeling that both of us are dating other people, and would prefer to make it exclusive. But neither of us is really prepared to be in that space right now.
He has a lot on his plate. Corporate Lawyer is applying for work and constantly sending out his resume. He’s worried about the downturn in the economy and, as a junior lawyer, expects to have the axe drop on his neck at any time. I can see the worry and concern in his face, and I like knowing that hanging out with me, even if we’re just casual partners, makes him feel good. I also like hanging around with him because we come from very similar places, even if our politics don’t agree. His spending habits are not exorbitant, there’s nothing flashy about him, and he’s a genuinely decent guy.
Basically, he’s the opposite of The Charmer.
And that’s why I find him so uninteresting. The Charmer expresses concern, by habit: asking me to text the minute I get home, so he knows I’m safe and sound. Texting me first thing in the morning, at 6:30 a.m., and doing this consistently each day until it’s a habit; then abruptly stopping the practice. It’s a classic behavioural psychology move: he makes a gambler out of the other person. No wonder he leaves me breathless with anticipation: a critical intellectual is transformed into a cell phone text-watching junkie.
I respect the Corporate Lawyer quite a lot. I think he has integrity and is able to make a good partner. But I also see that he doesn’t feel as though he’s in the right space to have any kind of serious relationship at the moment. And so I don’t press the issue, and I keep dating.
And really, it’s not so bad. For now.
Just spoke with the Charmer. I was right. He uninvited me from his original trip, explaining that he’d planned to go on the trip by himself, not because our date last night was on any level a “failure.”
So I asked what’s next? And he said he’d like to take me out on a “real date” when he gets back.
I have no clue why we didn’t just make it a “real” date last night then, if that’s the kind of relationship he wants to pursue. It makes no sense to me. Except for the fact that he explained that he’s an impulsive person by nature, and that he’s trying to avoid being so impulsive.
Frankly, I think the explanation is simple: he doesn’t want to have me in his life in the category of “possible girlfriend.” But he doesn’t want to just walk away either. At this point he’s really not sure what he wants.
And to be honest, I’m not sure he’s what I’m looking for, either. What I really liked about him is what he represented to me: he held up a mirror to me and reminded me of the way I’m driven, pretty much a workaholic and someone capable of immersing herself completely in work. And that I’d been whiling away the last year trying to get back into that head space.
So really, I was using him, too. Although I don’t think I knew it at the time.
Who knows what might happen if we decide to get to know each other more carefully? After the heat has faded, we might realise that we really have nothing to talk about, and nothing in common at all.
I do have to say, though, that the meeting of the minds was pretty incredible, even if nothing else happens after this. That, I don’t regret, at all.
Tonight I’m going to bed wearing the t-shirt I wore to his bed last night. It smells of his cologne, but not of him. It is a poor stand in. And I know the scent will dissipate with time.
I had a restless night last night. I spoke with my old friend and former flame, Computer Programmer, yesterday, entertaining him with some of my dating stories. He was both amused and a little jealous. He remarked a little sarcastically, “wow, a luxury of riches” when I told him about the Charmer and the Corporate Lawyer and the kind of attention I’d gotten recently at a bar. I laughed along — I tend to like laughing at myself, in any case. And I understood the kind of place he was in, feeling lonely and resenting being single.
But I woke up with a heavy, intense loneliness. I wanted to talk to The Charmer about his obnoxious text message and left a voicemail asking him to return my call. He hasn’t called me back yet, probably thinking I’m out on the group outing I’d been planning to go to. I also think my slow response is testing his patience. He is Mr. Right Now, and seems to be most interested in indulging his desires. One of the “Too Much Information” (TMI) details he disclosed right off the bat when we first met was his experimentation with hedonism. I didn’t even know it was a possible lifestyle choice, and I listened with an equal measure of amusement and curiosity.
All I want is something that seems so simple, so basic: the touch of another human being, a shared laugh, someone else’s warm breath on my nose, a pair of lips brushing mine. The Charmer seems more interested in contact of another variety, and Corporate Lawyer is distant and respectful. Neither is what I’m looking for, and I’m feeling sad. I think I might prefer to be alone instead of being reminded of what I don’t have; what doesn’t fit.
Another friend I know is also going through a breakup. Hers is fresh, though; the wounds are barely accounted for, and the shock hasn’t really had time to sink in yet.
So she’s in the early stages of Step 1 I wrote about before.
We spent some time talking on the phone this evening, after I got back from my supposed date with Indie Musician. I thought he’d stood me up, so I was pretty bummed. Turned out it was a miscommunication problem, mainly on my part: I thought I’d given him my cell number, he thought my home number was my cell, he’d changed the venue and called and left messages on my home phone… And we never met up. And both thought that the other had stood the other one up. The conversation didn’t go too well at first, and I got a little mad because he started blaming me. But more on that later.
My friend (who I’ll call the Artist) and I had been planning to hang out tomorrow, doing what singles do, because I felt that she needed some cheering up. She launched rightaway into talking about how she wants to write her ex a letter, expressing her desire for him, the fact that she thinks their breakup is premature, that this decision has to do with fear and that they should spend some time talking things through. She’d mentioned the letter before, and I’d cautioned her about that, saying that I thought she needed to wait some time before sending something like that: to write it out, but not send it rightaway. She said she was sure that she wanted to send it out rightaway, but that she’d sleep on it and think it through. She’s going to be seeing her ex on Sunday when she has to go pick some things up at his place.
She’s going exactly through what I mentioned in Step 1: hoping that she can find a way to make the relationship work, somehow. Negotiation, I think is what this phase is called. And there’s no deterring it. Nothing anyone else can say would make that “I really have to be convinced that I’ve done everything humanly possible” feeling go away. It just has to go away on its own time. I’ll try to see how long it takes for her to have this feeling diminish somewhat. We’ll see.
Meanwhile, I’ve offered to take her out for a nice day of eating cheap, delicious food, walking around, spending the whole afternoon just talking about whatever she wants to talk about, and getting some time to really just unwind and let her hair down. She’s not sleeping and she’s not eating. It’s the least I can do for a friend who’s just gotten her heart broken.
Datehazard's Blog 
Recent Comments