Archive | February, 2018

That awkward moment when…

23 Feb

You’re at dinner with friends, discussing your dating life, and you realize you and one of your friends are dating the same guy.

Cracked diamond

22 Feb

Self esteem and confidence are weird concepts.  How’s it possible to come across as confident to others while inside you’re busy worrying about whether/not people like you?  To have days when you’re owning the shit out of your job, and then lay awake at night wondering if someone will find out that you don’t know what you’re actually doing?

My job requires a whole lot of relationship management.  I have an extraordinary gift with people, if I do say so myself.  My personality is a fucking 10.  I am charming, hilarious, smart, caring kind, people want to talk to me, which at work makes things much easier.  They seek me out for guidance, they offer suggestions, they’re willing to go the extra mile, even grant a favor from time to time.  On the rare occasion when I have to work with someone who doesn’t like me, it crushes my soul.  9 times out of 10, these rare birds aren’t worth giving a second thought about.  But it’s me, and they don’t like me, so it becomes all consuming.  That’s why I lose sleep over thinking things like, “why doesn’t so-and-so like me?  What do I have to do to get them to like me?” I legitimately spend endless hours trying to think through every little thing that I have to do to make them see what an amazing person I am.

Why?

Because if someone doesn’t like me then there’s something wrong with me.  There’s something wrong with me which is why they don’t like me.  So I just have to fix what they don’t like so they can like me.  Or I gotta figure out what they really like and portray that so that they’ll see what an amazing person I am – which is stupid since if I’m pretending to be someone who I’m not, then that’s not really me.  I seek validation of who I am by how other people see me.  Logically, I know that’s stupid.  As I write these words I’m thinking, “so ridiculous,” and yet I can’t help feeling that way.

Complete waste of energy.

You can imagine how incredibly fun and amazing carrying all of this into the dating world can be.  My confidence when it comes to men is even lower than at work.  At least there’s a list of accomplishments I can point to at work.  Dating?  Not so much.  What do I have?  Failed relationships and dudes who don’t like me back.  Sexual panther?  Yes, of course I am, but one who can’t get laid.  Whatever charm I have with people at work doesn’t seem to translate into the dating world.  My 10 personality seems to dim down to about a 6.  Unless I don’t like the guy in which case it ramps back up to a 10.

Years ago I used to see a therapist and he asked me to describe myself and I told him I was a cracked diamond.  I may be beautiful in a certain light, but if you look closely enough, you see the giant crack and it spoils everything.  I would try to conceal who I was so the person I was with wouldn’t see the crack inside.  Had to do it that way because the guy wouldn’t want me if he saw me for me.  Why would he when there are so many more beautiful options available?  Plus, if he liked me and knew the crack existed, then clearly there was something wrong with him, because why would he want a girl who was cracked?  I’m better at showing the angles of my diamond, but that fear of being rejected for who I am still sits with me.

Partially the reason I took a long break from dating was because of the emotional trashing I give myself when it doesn’t work out.  All those thoughts that run through my mind at night:

  • I’m not good/pretty enough.
  • I’m too fat.
  • Why not me?
  • Why don’t I have more matches?
  • Why can’t I find one that I want?
  • Why doesn’t he like me back?

At the root of it, it’s always me (in my mind) who is the problem.  It’s exhausting and draining.

Last night as I was going to bed I was thinking about #4.  Trying to figure out why on earth I spend so much time thinking about someone who has been brutally honest with me and told me there’s no future here.  Thinking if I could just show him who I am, then maybe he’d change his mind.  My personality is a god damned 10!  No, I don’t want a long term relationship with him, he’s far too broken for me.  Bone him, sure.  You bet.  Drop of a heartbeat.

Thinking to myself, “why am I wasting my time thinking about someone who clearly doesn’t see my value?”  And there it was, the epiphany: I’m trying to make him like me because if he doesn’t, then there’s something wrong with me.  So I have to show him every single fucking angle of my amazing personality until he catches the right look and realizes how amazing I am.  What the fuck?

I’m caught in the swirl and I can’t get out.  Frankly, I don’t know if I want to get out, because I like the attention he gives me when he gives it to me.

And because I’m going to make him like me.

I just made myself really vulnerable here.  Be gentle with me.

 

Wednesday night

21 Feb

It’s 78 degrees on a hump day. Home from the gym and sitting on the porch. When I’m not taking a sip from my massive glass of wine (defeating the whole purpose of going to the gym), I’m busy swiping – typically left – on Tinder and responding to me text messages.

Must restrict my wine intake or may end up sending the right text message to the wrong guy.

I like to call this screenshot “Wednesday in February”. This has been going on since this morning. It’s been a rad fucking day.

Maybe don’t eat that

21 Feb

For Christmas this year, Oingo Boingo received a subscription box of Japanese treats.  He’s moderately obsessed/addicted to all things Japanese.  Sure, he says he could stop anytime he wanted, but his wife, Jersey Belle, and I know that he’d sooner be on the street giving blowies to strangers to make money for another plane ticket across the world.  We know the truth.

This months’ box included some crispy squid snacks!!  Oingo Boingo is pretty adventurous when it comes to food.  While many of us would have looked at the container and thought, “there is no way, no day that’s going in my mouth,” (that’s what she said) he was game.  His assessment?

If you crossed a whore’s vagina and a trash can in the middle of the summer at a seafood restaurant, you still wouldn’t come close to the awfulness.

There you have it folks.  Should someone offer you some, perhaps you should pass.

Let me leave you with this…

21 Feb

Home from my date with #6. I’ll leave you with 2 things: 1, was pleasantly surprised with the date. 2, think he was too.

Bare witness to our riveting text exchange!!

Help a sister out

20 Feb

Date #6 tonight.  Don’t have high hopes, talking to him is a bit like pulling teeth.  Feels like I’m doing all the work.  I ask him questions, he responds.  Ask him more questions, he responds again. Not a whole lot of back and forth.  I can only imagine what tonight will be like.  If it’s like the exchange in email, guessing tonight I will pretend I’m a professional interviewer and will get him to just tell me some good stories.

Assuming actually has good stories…Bit of a wet noodle maybe?

Know what would be amazing?  If date #6 turned into date #sex.  Hey-o!  I made a lolz.  Because six and sex sound similar.  You chuckled.  Admit it.

Anyway, bought him the birthday card – a benign card that wouldn’t be over the top.  So what should I write in it?  Help a sister out and put your thoughts in the comments.  Don’t leave me hanging, yo.

 

Strike or strike out?

19 Feb

Welcome to Monday night.  Date night with eligible bachelor #5. I’m rolling in men.  ROLLING IN THEM!  Unfortunately, not rolling around with any of them.

Let’s first talk about my banging date outfit.  BANGING!  Rocked out the best dress ever.  The right amount of cleavage, hem a little above the knee, opaque black tights, super hot ankle booties.  Mascara.  On dates, we wear eye make up and mascara.  We dress like ultra sexy versions of ourselves – but not so sexy our dates assume we’ll end up on our backs at the end of the date. We do not dress like sluts and we do not show off everything we have, we merely hint at what might be on offer at some point.  The outfit was on the money.  So on the money, in fact, that I’d wear it AGAIN tomorrow if it wasn’t going to be so warm.

On my way to my date, after sending a quick text to #4, I popped into the shop to pick up a birthday card for date #6 which is tomorrow night.  Most of you who voted in the previous post approved of the idea.  If the date tomorrow goes south, it’s totally your fault.  If he doesn’t like the card, then he is a dick and can go fuck himself.

As per usual, I was the first one at the restaurant.  The creepy host/waiter sat me in a crowded part of the restaurant and proceeded to enjoy the view down my dress.  He was a creep.  #5 showed up a few minutes later.  He walked in the door and BAM absolutely nothing.  No spark, no disappointment, no nothing.  Okay, fine.  Let’s settle in and get ready for some wine.  He was nervous, I could tell, not like a hot mess nervous, just a bit awkward which kind of made me nervous a little and we tripped over words for a few minutes.  Exceptionally awesome since every fucking table around us probably knew exactly what was going on and was dropping eaves on this awkward exchanged.

We ordered our wine, and seemed to settle in, and then nothing.  Really not much to report after that.  It was fine.  It was kind of like a plain roast chicken breast.  Bland, and forgettable.  Like jackasses we ordered some super messy turkey wings (which were stupid messy).  Although I wasn’t feeling anything I decided that when it came time to walk to the bathroom that I was going to strut everything I had so he could watch me walk away from and to him.  Obviously I rocked his world.

He paid for dinner.  The host/waiter came back to thank us, extended his hand to shake mine, and stared right down my dress.  Because he’s a creep and because my rack looked amazing.  My date offered to drive/walk me home, I passed.

I’ve heard from him already.  I’m going to pass again.

Not disappointed at tonight’s outcome.  Maybe a bit confused.  I guess maybe a bit disappointed – more so because I’m left with these questions about myself and these strange signals I must be sending off and why it’s so hard to find someone with whom I’m compatible.

Here’s the big question floating around in mind: why do the ones I want not want me back, and the ones who want me I don’t want back?  What is the messed up thing that goes on in my brain where I send these jacked up signals that say, “come hither” to those I’d rather wander off, and “retreat!” to the ones who I want to come nearer?  Why am I attracted to the ones I can’t really have?  Is that some jacked up defense mechanism?

The date outfit was definitely a strike, and every single interaction I’ve ever had with a man is a strike out.  I don’t understand men.  Sometimes, I don’t understand myself either.

 

Do I, or Don’t I?

19 Feb

Okay, people, now’s your chance to give me a bit of advice here.

Found out today is the birthday of the guy I’m going to go out with tomorrow.  Should I get him a birthday card?  Like a funny one?