Datehazard’s Blog

On dating, singleness and adjusting to being 30ish.

Nasty news February 21, 2009

Filed under: breakups,Drama,Exes — datehazard @ 2:15 pm
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Well, I just had a rather unexpected update from my friend The Artist about what exactly happened on the night she got really drunk and ended up at The Grad Student’s house.

Apparently it wasn’t just that she’d gotten drunk, but that she and the Grad Student had kissed. He’d been putting the moves on her, and he’d also said to my friend, “What shall we tell DH? Don’t tell her something happened. Maybe we can just tell her that you stayed over because you were really drunk?”

And just yesterday, The Grad Student was telling me how he thought I was beautiful and incredibly desirable. Which I’d laughed off and dismissed as so much loneliness. We’d spent the entire day talking about his problems, and I’d been sympathetic about his breakup, trying to encourage him to keep moving on.

And now, once again, I feel used. Once upon a time The Grad Student and I had a thing — a long time ago when I was on the rebound from my ex and had just moved to NYC. We’d managed to work through it, but there had always been that tension, which I generally ignored or pushed aside. After our attempt to date, I realised that he wasn’t the right person for me, and I told him that. And kept dating other people.

And now I am stuck in this awkward situation where I had to promise The Artist that I wouldn’t reveal the fact that they’d kissed. And I can’t act on my anger and ask The Grad Student to explain his actions, and why it was at all important to hide this information from me. And I can’t warn The Artist about this guy, who is clearly playing the both of us, because she would think it’s so much jealousy on my part. And I feel personally responsible for making sure she doesn’t get hurt. Especially when she’s in this particular state. And I’m the one who introduced them to each other.

Men are pigs. Seriously. And clearly I am ridiculously naive.

 

Rough Morning February 19, 2009

Filed under: breakups,Dating,Drama,Loneliness — datehazard @ 7:28 am
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I feel used.

I had a dream in which I was saying, matter-of-factly,
“That’s right. You have to put the facts together as they are. You can’t read them any other way.”

And then I woke up in a panic, thinking, “What if this was all some kind of a game with this guy? What if The Charmer’s one of those pick-up/seduction artists and he had some kind of a sick bet or something?”

I don’t think The Charmer had ever seriously intended to include me in his vacation plans. And so I initially panicked, thinking of the absolute worst-case scenario.

Then I realised that the worst-case actually didn’t make sense. If it really were a game, he would have told me so at the end, or indicated in some way how he won. I didn’t get that from him at all yesterday. He sounded apologetic and a little guilty.

I don’t think any PUA is THAT good of a liar.

Plus I know where he works, where he lives, and all of his contact information. And one of his friends.

But still, that feeling is really unnerving.

It’s confirmation of the need to really know someone before taking risks like these. Otherwise the results may be just too unpalatable.

No matter what, I think I have to refuse to see this from the eyes of a victim. I was an active agent who decided to forego control, and I panic when I do that. Instead of taking that approach, I need to accurately and carefully assess the fact that I have good instincts; I acted, knowing the risks of feeling hurt (my ego being bruised, not so much any kind of physical damage), and that I wanted to do so anyway, because the entertainment value won out.

But if The Charmer had been playing a game and I’d been going along, without seeing his game plan, would I have any right to be self-righteous?

Is this the nature of a hustle? That the wounded party feels too embarrassed to act, because they’ve acted on an impulse they feel to be unaltruistic, like greed or lust? When hustlers swindle people, their victims are often too embarrassed to complain, or file any kind of charges, recognizing that they were victims of their own avarice.

The thought is unnerving and unsettling.