Once upon a time, there was an Emily that gave little thought to what others thought of her. She wouldn't have cared about her super short hair . . . cause if boys didn't like it, well, that was their problem. She didn't care if anyone looked at her. In fact, she preferred if people didn't notice her at all. She wore tennis shoes to work. She didn't worry about makeup. She was passionate about her job and her family.
And then the year of "yes" happened. And quite frankly, dating has made me stupid . . . and whiny and weak. And the year of yes . . . it's being cut a week short.
So I'm back. And I don't give a flying f- what you think.
How did this come about? Well, let's see. While wallowing in my misery from last night (poor me, sniffle, sniffle) and deciding not to talk to anyone today and just stay in bed, I check my email. Two guys from matchdotcom, one wink (has a ridiculous username) (ironic when I make judgement about compatibility from someone's username) and one enormously long email. And the enormously long email may have cured me.
What was in this miraculous email? A man who knows way too much about me to be healthy. Lists usernames from both dating sites. My myspace account, which has nothing personal connected to it. Hell, he's probably reading this right now. Admits he has spent time gaining this information. Gives me more dating sites to look at him. Gives me his phone number and full name.
I think he has emailed before . . . or winked and I have ignored him. He lists his age at 39 but looks at least 10 years older. Has pictures of his daughter on matchdotcom. Is an ubergeek, by all accounts. And is so interested in me that he collects information. Has noticed me. Wants to know me. And I want absolutely nothing to do with him.
I'm sure he is a good provider. He would probably take my advice on his wardrobe and haircut. I could go buy him some new glasses. He is well read. And probably smart. And if I'm so lonely, why don't I want to jump on this train? I should call him up . . . and yet, every cell in my being says no. Something about him admitting that he knows all this. You'd be dumb not to notice that everyone is on the same dating sites and myspace. We're all tech geeks, or we wouldn't be here. But it's different if you admit it. And something about the need.
And we all have to admit that I've been repulsively needy for the last two months.
So I thought about that. I've been looping on what I wrote to RB for a while. Ruminating about what I learned from the situation. (and don't say "not much" . . . I can hear you, Princess) You know what? I don't really like most people. I'll be polite to them. I'll be nice to them. I always try to act with integrity towards other people. But except for a few, they mostly bore me. Or annoy me. Which is why I didn't want to be noticed for the most part, because then I would have to talk to other humans.
Don't get me wrong . . . I find the superficial banter and reactions of others interesting. I'll talk to anyone that I don't know very well, just to see what they'll say. Almost like I'm testing to see if people will be interesting. And sometimes they are . . . I know a lot of smart, witty and great people (before you start thinking that I'm a total sociopath). But dating . . . it makes that test your job . . . your life goal. And I'm not one to do anything half-assed. And so after going out with lots of men (and mostly being annoyed) I found one that was interesting to me. And when I became too much (because I am intensely intense) and we parted ways, I got scared. It took me a long time to sort through the sand of humanity to find that broken toy. And I didn't even see all the ways he was broken. Panic and need.
But you know what? I like getting through a day without talking to anyone. Okay, I gave the waitress my order and told her twice that I didn't need anything else. I said "Thank you" to a person who held a door for me and to the girl who ran me up at the coney island. But otherwise, nothing. Just me and my head. And for the most part, it's quiet.
And I don't have to worry about what I'm wearing, or if I'm cute enough, or what the person across from me is thinking. Or if I'm a good enough girlfriend, or if someone is going to call me . . . or what it means if he doesn't call me. The waitress doesn't care about my hair. The bookstore employees are probably annoyed that I'm up to chapter 24 and still haven't bought the book, but they'll never voice it.
Back to what is perhaps a self-centered existence. And it feels soft and warm and safe. And I feel the need falling away. And I'm back.
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6 comments:
I'm glad to hear you are finally back. I've been following your journey and frankly you are alot tougher than you give yourself credit. Stop looking and enjoy life. When you obsess about having a boyfriend you make bad choices. Go out with someone totally opposite, what about the ubergeek? Give it a try, it is like trying on clothes, you never know how it is going to look until you try it on. Keep the faith it will happen, just keep living life.
(ps. I think you should stop listening to Princess)
I'm sorry. I disagree . . . people should not be tried on . . . the jeans at the Gap don't care if they don't fit. People on the other hand, feelings get hurt.
Plus, while I'm very open to geeks, his email . . . it was way too much information. (You had to be there. Unless you are him and then my advice is don't play all those cards so fast.)
I won't stop looking. I stopped for about five years. While I find that kind of "company" (dating) relatively unnecessary . . . well, I do like it. I just fluxed to the point where I cared, maybe a bit too much. I like to do a good job at things.
Thank you though.
You're funny, how come you don't write some things to try for publication - a tech writer friend just got an advance from Harper Collins for an aviation novel - he worked at it for 10 years but he got his contract last month!
You have a good voice for humor - try sitting down and writing something this summer - anything, a short story, an article, the plot for a novella, before school starts again...you can turn what you went through over the last year into something wonderful that other people would like to read. You already have an interesting blog.
Perhaps after you've been working on that for a while the right person may come along - who knows, maybe the thing with RB didn't work because you're supposed to do something else with your life right now, like a publishable form of creative expression...
Congratulations to your friend. Quite an accomplishment. Especially that he had the tenacity to keep at it for ten years.
The blog is enough for right now. In some ways, the blog is too much and I shouldn't be publishing what I publish . . . but I like that it is "out there" for random people in Taiwan (or Washington State) to read.
And this is publishing . . . just web publishing.
I'll think about it.
Chatty Cathies, these blog readers are!! Makes one wonder? Of course I read a blog about someone in New York rennovating a Brownstone with great interest.
Maybe blogging has its place...but cyberstalking cannot be good. Think Tmi is bad. Should edit to be more transparent.
Let the sock monkey be your guide....no one really knows who he is or where he (she?) is from. Better that way. Control the playing field. Make it interesting to keep ubergeeks from making connections.
Like the "community" tho...interesting stuff...
Yes, mother . . . removed the name muppet from myspace. Will be shutting down match shortly. He hasn't shown up at my house yet.
I did count the number of times the police passed my house though (27 times in two hours, because of the the thing). . . so I think I'm pretty safe with all the police presence.
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