I don’t remember the last time I told may parents about my dating life. Every time I consider it I picture the day something goes wrong or the guy stops returning my calls, and explaining this to Mom is as painful for her as it is embarrassing for me. I’d rather just save us both the trouble.
Some people have this wide-open friendship with their parents, even asking them for relationship advice. Others are barely on speaking terms. I remain stuck in the purgatory of eternally wanting their approval, and getting old enough that the gold star milestones become harder and harder to reach. As you approach thirty, the thrill of a great first date doesn’t quite quench their thirst for a grandchild.
Not only that, but how do you explain flings, one-night-stands, and Mr. Right Nows to a married pair of blissful friends? Sure Sex and the City made it easier to talk to our girlfriends about the dirty details, but you didn’t see any phone calls home asking if Dad ever had funky tasting spunk, did you?
There are times when I want to blurt out everything- from my fears that I’ll end up alone to the pride of knowing how to work a room. We’ve always had a good relationship and I almost feel as if I’m depriving them of knowing a piece of me. But then I imagine opening Aphrodite’s Box and all of their most intimate secrets spilling out and I’m reassured that, in this instance, ignorance is bliss.
I’ve thought this guy was cute since we met. We’ve both had a few drinks, seem up for it, and don’t seem to take it very seriously. I probably won’t even sleep with him. So why can’t I just relax and enjoy it?
There’s this little voice in my head that says I’m not cheating on someone else, but I’m cheating on myself. It’s not the thought of keeping a secret or admitting to infidelity that’s distracting me. I just feel like I’m lying to myself by ignoring that I’m not with the one I want.
There’s not even anything wrong with him. I could look into those gorgeous blue eyes, feel his strong arms wrapped around me, appreciate the passion behind his kisses, but I just want to laugh. Something feels wrong and another face keeps flashing in my mind- one that I would be able to talk to if I felt like this.
After a meeting of the minds, mindless fun just isn’t the same.
There’s nothing like knowing something is in limited quantity to make you savor every last bit. Each bite of a small piece of gourmet chocolate, the final squares of toilet paper on your last roll, or the last few nights with someone you really like before knowing they have to leave.
Boston Boy is headed off to an assignment on the other side of the world. The longer we’ve known each other, the more we’ve dropped the defenses of a non-relationship and actually gotten to know each other. I’ve fallen for not just his kisses, but for the way he snores through the night during a good night’s sleep.
And, as hard as it may be for me to accept that he’ll soon be in another time zone, it brought out a sense of intensity in both of us. I took it as an ultimate compliment when we stole away from his going away party to fool around and he responded to my every insistence to get back to our friends with an increased attempt to fixate my mind on the heat of the moment. It’s safe to say we missed most of the party.
What was most telling though was the following day, his last night before leaving. I almost laughed when he texted asking to stay with me since he had already packed all of his bedclothes (as if he needed permission or an excuse). I wanted him to leave on a mind-blowing, bed-shattering note but the two of us were absolutely exhausted. I even apologized for my lack of energy, insisting that it in no way illustrated a lack of enthusiasm. He reassured me that there hadn’t been a single night he spent with me that he considered a disappointment, finally giving me the affection I desired just hours before I was destined to miss it.
It was one of those questions that happen late at night, once you’ve shed both your clothes and your inhibitions. Half of you is comfortable, content- blissful even. The other half is dying to know what’s racing through their head and inventing worst-case scenarios by the minute.
Did I mention he asked me?
It was an easy one to answer. I opted for both a physical and mental attribute to cover all bases of insecurities that may have brought it on.
“I love your eyes and your intelligence.”
In the spirit of fairness, I asked the same thing in return. Granted, this was like fishing for a compliment with a giant worm in a fish tank, but I was curious to see what he would single out. I definitely wasn’t prepared for the response.
“I like your attention,” he said.
In my mind this was the equivalent of saying ‘I like you because you like me.’ Not exactly flattering when you find yourself interchangeable with anyone who shows a glimmer of interest. I was taken aback for a minute, and asked him to explain.
Earlier that night I had gotten upset and refused to speak to him for half an hour, half-serious and half-joking. He told me that my ignoring him had made him realize how much he liked talking to me, even if it was just to share silly, mundane details.
It took me a little while to digest, but the more I thought about it the more I decided I liked the sentiment. He preferred having me in his life (if only for a thirty-minute period) to my not being a part of it. The more he talked, the more I heard “I like YOUR attention,” as opposed to “I like your ATTENTION.” Emphasis is everything.
Of course, it didn’t hurt when five minutes later he told me I had a great ass.
I’ve never been a girlfriend kind of girl. I’ve heard that our generation is notorious for not dating, but I see us dividing instead into distinct groups- the ones guys want as girlfriends, and those who are okay with not being girlfriends. I’ve generally fallen into the second category.
I don’t think I’ve ever met a guy who is looking for a relationship. Even if I did, I probably wouldn’t be attracted to him because it would be a blow to his alpha male side that I need to have at least a glimpse of. What I have met is a lot of guys who are looking for a purely physical relationship.
I’ve recently fallen into one of these with Boston Boy, a cute, cocky young sports fanatic who I started working with who was only going to be in town briefly when we met but ended up staying for more of a long-term assignment. We both stumbled into our first drunken make-out session thinking that we had an expiration date but when it was renewed for another season we weren’t quite sure how to act around each other. We had both been adamant about it being exactly what we were looking for in the moment because it had made it easier to justify.
It’s gone on for a few weeks, with a constant dance of insisting that we’re not a couple when in public. And even though my ego gets slightly hurt every time I hear it, I tend to vocalize just as strongly to assure him that I’m okay with our arrangement. It’s become a running joke, as most co-workers and mutual friends make silly comments and we smile slyly and deny having any idea what they’re referring to.
There are times, though, that I wish I could say what I want as easily as I could come up with what I think the other person wants to hear. The only problem is, without the security of actually being a girlfriend, what’s to stop them from walking away?
I’ve always found something comforting in being with a guy in less than perfect shape. Sure, I can appreciate a David Beckham underwear ad just as much as the next girl, but when it comes to real life, a little extra weight or unruly hair has it’s own distinctive appeal.
First of all it allows for you to drop a certain level of self-consciousness. If he’s not in perfect shape he certainly can’t expect you to be! I can find it easier to believe that an armchair quarterback would overlook when I’ve put on a stray pound or two than, say, a personal trainer. The fact that I can feel an attraction burning in my eyes for their pale physique or stocky legs also reminds me that the same desire reflected in theirs may be just as genuine.
Second, there is the competition factor. One of the number one reasons I hear for the failure of relationships is one party’s unfaithfulness. Call it a safety measure, but I’m put slightly at ease by the thought of a man that fewer other women are vying for, or even one that may have a lower success rate if he tried to stray. If he feels like he’s already with better than he deserves he may be less likely to attempt an upgrade.
Slight tangent- I always loved the scene in A Beautiful Mind where in order to prove the benefits of his economic theory he described a group of women walking in the door- one an absolute knockout. Now, if all of the guys approached her first, only one would succeed and the rest are left with slightly hostile women annoyed at being second choice. If instead, the guys agree to all approach one of the other women who are most likely aware of the appeal of their friend, their chances of flattery and success skyrocket. I’m not sure if it’s the old-fashioned setting or scientific approach, but it somehow seems a classier explanation than the modern incarnation of The Game.
And of course, we’ve all heard the old adage, but the nerd is almost always guaranteed to try harder than the heartthrob. Sure it takes some experience to learn the ropes of female anatomy, but a guy who has five new girls lining up out the door has to be less worried about pleasing the one in front of him. The two men who taught me most about being truly satisfied were not necessarily the ones I would plaster in a photo spread across my wall. They were the ones most worried about my happiness, and the only telling physical sign of that was the satisfied smile across their faces.
It’s funny how time can change your views on things: relationships, careers, blogging, you name it. Time has a way of romanticizing and idealizing the good bits, while the bad ones either fade into the recesses of an overcrowded brain or fester and multiply until their impact far outweighs the actual memory.
Where do you even start to try to find the truth in memory? Is it possible to recapture the feeling of butterflies after a first date if you’ve already seen the relationship crash and burn? Is it even important to remember actuality versus the comfort of starry-eyed nostalgia?
Looking back at childhood we can appreciate the value of a good nap, while every toddler fights and screams to stay awake past his bedtime. An ex usually looks infinitely more attractive with a new fling on their arm. A wild night out with friends can be much more fun to relive through storytelling and photo posting to story board the most exciting moments and inside jokes.
The question- Is that feeling strong enough to draw you back in? Have you found independence in your freedom or just loneliness? Is it a love worth fighting for? Is it a friendship worth resurrecting? Is it a pastime worth dedicating yourself to?
Only time can tell, and time can be a fickle bitch.
Modern technology can make our lives much easier, and our mistakes impossible to erase. The following exchange happened after being out with a group of friends at a bar and flirting with a cute Australian guy all evening before leaving to go to work at the club.
Text to my girlfriend (or so I thought…):
“He just outright offered me a shower and sex explicitly! Of course no, but nice to know I’ve still got it :)”
Voice Mail my girlfriend:
“Um…I think you just sent a text to him that was meant for me. I walked past him reading it. Give me a call!”
So I searched frantically through my phone and discovered that, yes, I had sent the message about him TO him! I frantically started backpedaling and composing the apology in my mind.
My Apology Text:
“Oh god I’m such an ass! Obvious message mistake. The “of course” was because I’m going to work and not meant as an offense. Just silly girl talk :)”
I decided not to address the issue that I was sharing information with my friend. It turns out I had nothing to worry about as he continued to text me all night. Read the rest of this entry »
I may have more than just a girl crush. I was practically ready to get down on one knee and pull out a Tiffany’s box for this adorable little sprite of a girl with a big voice after she rocked the Apollo in a white tank dress and patent red heels last night. Although, I would have had some competition from the men in the front row screaming her name and handing her bouquets.
I’ve always been a little envious of anyone with an amazing voice. It makes everyday struggles sound a little more glamorous. Telling a story about sitting at home in your room and dreaming about a guy who doesn’t know you exist can seem pathetic, but put it into the poetry of song and all of a sudden you are flown around the world on private jets and tour busses to tell your story to the world.
Modern technology can make our lives much easier, and our mistakes impossible to erase. The following exchange happened after being out with a group of friends at a bar and flirting with a cute Australian guy all evening before leaving to go to work at the club.
I may have more than just a girl crush. I was practically ready to get down on one knee and pull out a Tiffany’s box for