I can’t write. Things
are happening, not just boring work things.
The blog was created when I was bored at work and a bit at loose
ends. Many things have changed. I’m not bored at work. My work is challenging and interesting, but
I’m seriously pursuing alternate employment for the first time ever. I still want to write and I’m at loose ends
about that. I could try and make the
blog the “write a certain amount every day” place—and start working on a story
or a novel or SOMETHING. But, I have to
admit, I hate blogs like that. I don’t
want to read your half-formed fiction and tell you how great it is. I could start a new blog and use it for
fiction. Or…I don’t know. Maybe it’s just the way I am—always a little
bit at loose ends. Always a bit lazy
about some things while quite driven in other respects. Able to sit and watch movies and knit for an
almost infinite amount of time, but not able to decide what to do with my life,
while that life just goes on and on.
Let me tell you about my bad date the other night. I know, I’ve spoiled the surprise. Sorry.
This was an internet guy.
We flirted a bit online, with some short vaguely suggestive emails. He
seemed good looking in his pictures but they only showed his face so I half
wondered if there were any surprises lurking (as it turned out, none were—at least
about his physique). He’d made a point
to tell me how attractive he thought I was.
I was pleased to hear it and yet…I don’t know, it’s not really
enough. I’d say finding me attractive is
a necessary but not sufficient condition for getting together. I’m trying to figure this out because I am
more open to non-boyfriend-potential situations than ever, yet, I find that I
still have to like the guy. Even if I’m
not going to spend a ton of time with you, if that time is going to be “intimate”
I need to like you. I need to trust
you. Otherwise, as much as I’m feeling
lonely and unloved, it’s not worth the trouble.
I have friends, the cat, the knitting, books to reads, video to watch—I am
shockingly content on my own. I know I’ve
become a bit complacent about all this.
It’s not that I don’t have desires and would really like to have a man
in my life—I still have crushes and longings.
I even occasionally notice an admirer, I’m just not willing to make a
huge effort when I could be doing something else that I enjoy more than sitting
at bar trying to make eye contact with someone. Sigh.
Anyway. The
dude. We met outside the metro on a very
wet day. When he approached, my gaydar
started pinging like crazy. I asked
Diego about that and he said that sometimes when something is odd it can
trigger the gaydar. Regardless, the dude
was all over me. He put his face right
close to mine. At the bar, I sat and he
stood and he pressed himself into me, rubbed his hand down my arm, all the way
to my ass. When the hand made contact
with my rear I picked up his and moved it away from my body and said, “You have
to stop doing that.” He stopped.
He wasn’t a great conversationalist and had a tendency to critique
what I said. When I ordered my beer he
expressed disappointment. Later, I told
him part (only part!) of a long sad story. I remarked that it wasn’t a fun
situation, but at least I got a funny story out of it. He said, “the story wasn’t that funny.” He said several semi-sexist things—just brushing
up to that line. He kept very close and
it was clear he was interested. I wasn’t
interested. The thought crossed my mind
that needing to find people attractive makes dating a real challenge.
I’m just going to go right out there and say when a creepy
guy tells you you’re attractive, it doesn’t feel flattering at all. It’s like getting praise from my most
disliked supervisor. I don’t respect her
so her praise is meaningless. Same with
this dude—I didn’t care for him at all, thus hearing that he found me sexy didn’t
mean anything to me. Also, I’ll say that
my intelligence and my basic attractiveness are just plain facts. I am smart.
I am pretty. Now, not everyone
will find me quite their cup of tea, looks-wise, but I am pretty sure that I’m
objectively good looking. It’s just the
luck of the draw—like being smart. I can’t’
help that I’m smart—but I can build on it.
I guess I could have built on my looks too, but I’ve never tried
(much). I haven’t tried to stay slim-ish
(I was never skinny and now I’m definitely NOT SKINNY). I have never worn make up regularly. I don’t dye my hair. I don’t wear heels. I don’t wear “sexy” clothing. I do brush my hair, wash my face put on
sunscreen and moisturizer. I bite my
nails, but I keep them filed and smooth.
I wear flattering clothing that fits properly. I like to look good and attractive. But I’m not going to work at—it’s not my
style. Undeniably, though, I benefit
from having a pretty face and a good complexion. It means people are nicer to me, that men
flirt with me, and etc.
So, some random creepy guy’s opinion of my body isn’t really
needed to make me feel ok about myself. Some
random guy who I found attractive and who I got along with—I’d like to hear
from HIM that he finds me attractive.
That is someone whose opinion I would value slightly more.
Damn. Ramble much?
Anyway. The beer drinking portion
of the evening ended and he walked me to the bus stop. We stood and talked while I waited for the
bus. He stood very close to me and told
me he really liked me. But he could tell
I wasn’t interested. Funny how that
works! I kept backing off and he kept
moving towards me. I couldn’t escape
him! I said, “you’re invading my
personal space.” He seemed taken aback—shocked, really. He tried to deny that he was standing too
close to me. He said, “wow, that’s…that
really says a lot about you.” He said, “That’s
too bad, that you’re like this, because I really like you.” I pointed out that I’m the way I am, so he
probably didn’t really like me. I think
he got that, but was still regretful. He
also said, “you’re really perfect for DC—so guarded and distant.” That had me agog. I said, “If you think that,
you don’t know me at all.”
Then the bus came and I ran away. A few minutes later, he texted me, “[Jamy],
you crushed me! O well, such is life.” I said I was sorry, it wasn’t my
intention. He texted again, “I was very
attracted to you. :(”
Jesus. When I will stop letting creepiness get in the way of
my potential sex life? I think we all
know the answer to that!
Last, I found it astonishing that in practically the
same day I was accused of being temperamental in the extreme (to the point that
bosses feared me and that it was questionable if I could ever be happy with any
boss) and then later on told I was distant and
guarded and perfect for DC. How can both descriptions be of the same
person? I guess that is the wonder and
mystery of me.
Grateful for: the good stories.
What a creep! I totally know what you mean about not needing any random guy to say you're attractive. I've actually had friends say, "Well, it's a compliment!" when I've complained about such a situation, and it's like, My self-esteem isn't so low that I need a stranger's unwanted attention and compliments. "What? Oh my God, you think I'm cute? Thank you so much!!! Now I shall sleep with you!"
ReplyDeletehaha....this was a funny post!
ReplyDeleteYeah, I feel the same way about compliments or praise from someone I don't respect.
ReplyDeleteAnon11
I also agree with your statement about undesired "compliments", they just don't strike the same chord. While someone I am interested could say something as banal as "you're nice" and I'll blush about it days later.
ReplyDeleteGood for you!