Metaphorical Frying Pan.
Disclaimer: This post is a two-parter, the first part of which I've been sitting on for a while now. And, in case you're new to the blog, there's a long-running disclaimer that comes with every relationship post: As a general rule and to protect the dignity of all who might be involved, I always wait a few weeks before posting relationship stuff. So what might have been when I wrote this? May not still be. Confused? Got questions? Feel free to just ask.
There comes a time in every person's life when the universe hits you over the head with a metaphorical frying pan. It's the lesson. The one you were supposed to be learning, again and again, over the last ten years. The one where, when you stood in the kitchen tonight, stumbling over the idea that, hey, this seems really similar to that last time, you can almost see the universe throw up its hands in exasperation and hear it scream, "Amber, either do the right thing this time or go fuck yourself. 'CAUSE WE IS DONE WITH THIS!"
It's the dating. The line of men, the revolving door. The thing where you meet someone new but then, after about three weeks, you realize that they're not actually that new. They're super cute, they're a lot of talk, and at the end of the day, they don't really make you feel all that great about yourself. Because, for some reason beyond all comprehension, they think you're kind of stupid and won't catch on to what they're doing.
Here's the bane of my dating existence: I don't really like a lot of people. I date a lot, but it takes a lot for me to want to keep dating someone. So when I do meet someone I like, it's like all of my common sense goes out the window. I could be dating five guys at the same time, but sometimes it seems like it's only the one I like who drives me crazy. Who texts a lot, but never suggests hanging out. Who talks a big game, but then never follows through. Who is kind of shady, but tries to convince you that it's something else - he's just really busy, or really shy, or just really likes you so much that he doesn't know what to do with all of this.
And as I'm writing this, I know exactly what you're thinking. These guys are assholes. Why would I possibly put up with this shit? Because I like them. Because if they were dumb or conceited or arrogant, it wouldn't be a problem. But as it happens, I end up seeing something in them that surprises me, or is more than I expected, or is exactly what I feel like I'm looking for at that time. And that's what keeps me there, in that ridiculous headspace. Also - and hear me out here, because this theory is not based wholly on scientific evidence, but I think I stumbled onto something - the fact that I so rarely like someone and therefore so rarely feel that rush of dopamine (that chemical that rushes into your brain at first flush of infatuation)? I think it seriously and literally fucks with my brain, when it happens. Basically: I lose my fucking cool. All my regular practical wisdom, hard-earned knowledge, and just basic common sense goes out the window at the thought of being able to kiss him again. Yes, tell me everything you think I want to hear, and I'll believe it, because why would I not? Yes, please, let's talk about the future and how we're both going to be in it. Okay, why don't I just skip work today to hang out with you, because what is life, really, but capturing experiences as they come? I can go to work any day!
So it happened again. Even though there hasn't exactly been a drought of suitors this fall (there's something about the difference between northern Wisconsin and Minneapolis that I can't explain. While the Northwoods of WI has the sad news of having a much lower percentage of available men than Minneapolis does, the difference is that these guys actually look you in the eye and talk to you when they find you attractive, instead of acting like they don't see you while mentally planning their Missed Connection for you in their head), I still found myself waiting around for some guy who, even after texting almost every day for three weeks, still wouldn't ask me out. Right?! Joke's on me, guys. I guess when someone tells you that they like you, they really mean, "Hey, when I like someone, it means that I never want to hang out or make out with them again. So let's just keep this to small talk texting, alright? Awesome."
So I was kind of done. I say "kind of" because there could be some explanation. Maybe he does have some stuff to figure out. Maybe he really is just trying to take things slow. Maybe he forgot the twelve hours where all he could talk about was how much he liked me and wanted to show me the best of him and was going to go after me with everything he had. Maybe he's just not very good at this stuff, and I'm the jerk because I have rules and timelines and basic principles for how you treat people. And I also say "kind of" because...I don't know if you guys will believe this, but sometimes I tend to jump the gun a little bit. Be a little impatient. That kind of thing.
So in order to kind of just chill myself out and get back to being level-headed, I threw myself into work on Monday and sorted some stuff out. I had a couple of new Cyber Dating Sidekick clients who had signed on, and so I decided that maybe I should update my profile and get stuff on there up to speed, check out what's been happening. Which I gotta say, kids, has, is, and always will be a great go-to for when you're feeling down about dating stuff. You update one little thing on there, and you've got 50 messages in your inbox from people who want to talk to you, whose first thought when they saw your picture was, "When can I hang out with this kid?" So I was feeling a little better. Calmer. Cooler. More in control of the situation. Fuck that guy, right? I've got a ton of dates to go on, and if he doesn't want to hang out, that's totally fine. Let me just pick from these ten guys and decide who gets to be the lucky recipient of an Amber-Style-Makeout (cause, not to brag or anything, but...they're pretty good. There's not a lot that I could win a Olympic medal in, but making out? Gold. The medal. Riiiight around this neck right here).
And then...
Along comes Cocaine Matt.
When I first met Cocaine Matt, I was crazy about him. It had been years since I had met someone who knocked me back the way he did. He was smart. Funny. In a band. Creative. And so, soooo hot...the term "sexy" did not even begin to do that man justice. And he had this charm...this total confidence about him. When he wanted something, he just went for it. He could walk into a room and make everyone just stop and listen to what he was saying. And he also did that super awesome thing where he kind of picked you up as he was kissing you goodnight, which kind of drives me crazy because only the sexiest, most skillful guys know how to do that. On our first real date, after he kissed me - really, really kissed me - I was so happy I was dizzy, and for the next three hours.
But then he got weird. He would text and make plans and then bail. Then, even if he kept those plans, he would show up late and be so...erratic...that it was kind of overwhelming. One moment he would be really into what we were doing, and then the next moment he would be all, "Okay, I gotta go." One night he showed up at a party of mine wearing the exact same clothes he had been wearing when we hung out the night before. Towards the end of the night, he was so hyped up that I looked over at one of my friends and my friend just did a simple finger-to-the-side-of-the-nose gesture. Suddenly it all made sense. And then, in the next second, as if right on cue, Cocaine Matt suddenly announced he was leaving...I walked him down to the door, he kissed me goodbye, and I never heard from him again.
He didn't totally disappear, though. I saw him again last spring at a party, and I knew from a couple of profile searches for a client that he was still online. Part of me wanted to just write him a message and be all, "So... ever going to tell me why you just took off and I never heard from you again?" Because, let's face it - you just don't really do that to people (or at least you don't if you're not entirely an asshole). And I kind of deserve to know, right? But I also don't want to know. Don't really need to know. All I really needed to know, from that scenario, was that here was a guy who was unpredictable, inconsistent, and inconsiderate. And even though I liked him, that didn't actually make me feel good, at the end of the day. Because that's supposed to be the whole point, right? If I like you, and you say that you like me back, that should be a good thing, right? Hopefully? Yes?
So tonight, while online, I saw that Cocaine Matt had checked out my profile. Read it. And I looked at his profile picture and kind of thought for a minute about how psyched I was about him, when we first met. How attracted to him I was, and how bleak, disappointed, I felt when things didn't work out the way I wanted them to. I thought about Psycho Travis, and how I'm now in the exact same scenario from the last time I was here: In this weird, confusing dance with a pretty, mysterious stranger, and there might not really be anything else (or anyone else) better to do right now, so maybe I can just wait around until he makes up his mind and gets his shit together and starts acting like an actual person.
And then it hit me, and then I felt like an idiot.
And this, my friends... This is what I'm supposed to learn. This guy, this current one...he's not someone new. He's another one put in my path to see if I finally get it, if I've finally learned my lesson. Which is: To stand up for myself. To finally realize that I don't deserve to have my time wasted, especially since I wouldn't be okay with wasting yours. That actions speak louder than words. That when I like someone, it doesn't give them a free pass to dick behavior. That I'm not the kind of girl who's okay with being put on the hook, but sometimes, they're not going to figure that for themselves. It's up to me to prove that to them, and to myself.
So 10-69, Universe. Message received. Noted. And this girl? Taking herself off the hook, and for good.
And btw, Cocaine Matt? Stop looking at my profile.
There comes a time in every person's life when the universe hits you over the head with a metaphorical frying pan. It's the lesson. The one you were supposed to be learning, again and again, over the last ten years. The one where, when you stood in the kitchen tonight, stumbling over the idea that, hey, this seems really similar to that last time, you can almost see the universe throw up its hands in exasperation and hear it scream, "Amber, either do the right thing this time or go fuck yourself. 'CAUSE WE IS DONE WITH THIS!"
It's the dating. The line of men, the revolving door. The thing where you meet someone new but then, after about three weeks, you realize that they're not actually that new. They're super cute, they're a lot of talk, and at the end of the day, they don't really make you feel all that great about yourself. Because, for some reason beyond all comprehension, they think you're kind of stupid and won't catch on to what they're doing.
Here's the bane of my dating existence: I don't really like a lot of people. I date a lot, but it takes a lot for me to want to keep dating someone. So when I do meet someone I like, it's like all of my common sense goes out the window. I could be dating five guys at the same time, but sometimes it seems like it's only the one I like who drives me crazy. Who texts a lot, but never suggests hanging out. Who talks a big game, but then never follows through. Who is kind of shady, but tries to convince you that it's something else - he's just really busy, or really shy, or just really likes you so much that he doesn't know what to do with all of this.
And as I'm writing this, I know exactly what you're thinking. These guys are assholes. Why would I possibly put up with this shit? Because I like them. Because if they were dumb or conceited or arrogant, it wouldn't be a problem. But as it happens, I end up seeing something in them that surprises me, or is more than I expected, or is exactly what I feel like I'm looking for at that time. And that's what keeps me there, in that ridiculous headspace. Also - and hear me out here, because this theory is not based wholly on scientific evidence, but I think I stumbled onto something - the fact that I so rarely like someone and therefore so rarely feel that rush of dopamine (that chemical that rushes into your brain at first flush of infatuation)? I think it seriously and literally fucks with my brain, when it happens. Basically: I lose my fucking cool. All my regular practical wisdom, hard-earned knowledge, and just basic common sense goes out the window at the thought of being able to kiss him again. Yes, tell me everything you think I want to hear, and I'll believe it, because why would I not? Yes, please, let's talk about the future and how we're both going to be in it. Okay, why don't I just skip work today to hang out with you, because what is life, really, but capturing experiences as they come? I can go to work any day!
So it happened again. Even though there hasn't exactly been a drought of suitors this fall (there's something about the difference between northern Wisconsin and Minneapolis that I can't explain. While the Northwoods of WI has the sad news of having a much lower percentage of available men than Minneapolis does, the difference is that these guys actually look you in the eye and talk to you when they find you attractive, instead of acting like they don't see you while mentally planning their Missed Connection for you in their head), I still found myself waiting around for some guy who, even after texting almost every day for three weeks, still wouldn't ask me out. Right?! Joke's on me, guys. I guess when someone tells you that they like you, they really mean, "Hey, when I like someone, it means that I never want to hang out or make out with them again. So let's just keep this to small talk texting, alright? Awesome."
So I was kind of done. I say "kind of" because there could be some explanation. Maybe he does have some stuff to figure out. Maybe he really is just trying to take things slow. Maybe he forgot the twelve hours where all he could talk about was how much he liked me and wanted to show me the best of him and was going to go after me with everything he had. Maybe he's just not very good at this stuff, and I'm the jerk because I have rules and timelines and basic principles for how you treat people. And I also say "kind of" because...I don't know if you guys will believe this, but sometimes I tend to jump the gun a little bit. Be a little impatient. That kind of thing.
So in order to kind of just chill myself out and get back to being level-headed, I threw myself into work on Monday and sorted some stuff out. I had a couple of new Cyber Dating Sidekick clients who had signed on, and so I decided that maybe I should update my profile and get stuff on there up to speed, check out what's been happening. Which I gotta say, kids, has, is, and always will be a great go-to for when you're feeling down about dating stuff. You update one little thing on there, and you've got 50 messages in your inbox from people who want to talk to you, whose first thought when they saw your picture was, "When can I hang out with this kid?" So I was feeling a little better. Calmer. Cooler. More in control of the situation. Fuck that guy, right? I've got a ton of dates to go on, and if he doesn't want to hang out, that's totally fine. Let me just pick from these ten guys and decide who gets to be the lucky recipient of an Amber-Style-Makeout (cause, not to brag or anything, but...they're pretty good. There's not a lot that I could win a Olympic medal in, but making out? Gold. The medal. Riiiight around this neck right here).
And then...
Along comes Cocaine Matt.
When I first met Cocaine Matt, I was crazy about him. It had been years since I had met someone who knocked me back the way he did. He was smart. Funny. In a band. Creative. And so, soooo hot...the term "sexy" did not even begin to do that man justice. And he had this charm...this total confidence about him. When he wanted something, he just went for it. He could walk into a room and make everyone just stop and listen to what he was saying. And he also did that super awesome thing where he kind of picked you up as he was kissing you goodnight, which kind of drives me crazy because only the sexiest, most skillful guys know how to do that. On our first real date, after he kissed me - really, really kissed me - I was so happy I was dizzy, and for the next three hours.
But then he got weird. He would text and make plans and then bail. Then, even if he kept those plans, he would show up late and be so...erratic...that it was kind of overwhelming. One moment he would be really into what we were doing, and then the next moment he would be all, "Okay, I gotta go." One night he showed up at a party of mine wearing the exact same clothes he had been wearing when we hung out the night before. Towards the end of the night, he was so hyped up that I looked over at one of my friends and my friend just did a simple finger-to-the-side-of-the-nose gesture. Suddenly it all made sense. And then, in the next second, as if right on cue, Cocaine Matt suddenly announced he was leaving...I walked him down to the door, he kissed me goodbye, and I never heard from him again.
He didn't totally disappear, though. I saw him again last spring at a party, and I knew from a couple of profile searches for a client that he was still online. Part of me wanted to just write him a message and be all, "So... ever going to tell me why you just took off and I never heard from you again?" Because, let's face it - you just don't really do that to people (or at least you don't if you're not entirely an asshole). And I kind of deserve to know, right? But I also don't want to know. Don't really need to know. All I really needed to know, from that scenario, was that here was a guy who was unpredictable, inconsistent, and inconsiderate. And even though I liked him, that didn't actually make me feel good, at the end of the day. Because that's supposed to be the whole point, right? If I like you, and you say that you like me back, that should be a good thing, right? Hopefully? Yes?
So tonight, while online, I saw that Cocaine Matt had checked out my profile. Read it. And I looked at his profile picture and kind of thought for a minute about how psyched I was about him, when we first met. How attracted to him I was, and how bleak, disappointed, I felt when things didn't work out the way I wanted them to. I thought about Psycho Travis, and how I'm now in the exact same scenario from the last time I was here: In this weird, confusing dance with a pretty, mysterious stranger, and there might not really be anything else (or anyone else) better to do right now, so maybe I can just wait around until he makes up his mind and gets his shit together and starts acting like an actual person.
And then it hit me, and then I felt like an idiot.
And this, my friends... This is what I'm supposed to learn. This guy, this current one...he's not someone new. He's another one put in my path to see if I finally get it, if I've finally learned my lesson. Which is: To stand up for myself. To finally realize that I don't deserve to have my time wasted, especially since I wouldn't be okay with wasting yours. That actions speak louder than words. That when I like someone, it doesn't give them a free pass to dick behavior. That I'm not the kind of girl who's okay with being put on the hook, but sometimes, they're not going to figure that for themselves. It's up to me to prove that to them, and to myself.
So 10-69, Universe. Message received. Noted. And this girl? Taking herself off the hook, and for good.
And btw, Cocaine Matt? Stop looking at my profile.
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