The Ramp of Possibility

Okay, here's the deal.

Once upon a time, I decided to not date. I made the determination that I picked, or liked, or was attracted to, the wrong type of person and so I stopped picking, and liking and being attracted to. I ignored, well, basically my sexuality, (sorry Dad) . . . and it was easy to delve into work and not worry about other people. It was way easier than being disappointed or hurt. Plus, you could eat anything you wanted. I mentally shut myself off to that aspect of life, didn't even entertain possibility.

And I was very good at being alone. (still am, really) I do what I want to do . . . whether I have friends that want to go or not.

And despite the comments from Q.O. about being more positive . . . with the thought that things will work themselves out, that the universe will fall into place, I'm tired. I'm tired of the ramp of possibility and the fall. It doesn't matter if the fall is when I meet them and they have three kids and they aren't really divorced and their life is a mess . . . and then they look at me and say, "So . . . why is it you are 35 and haven't been married?" judgementally, like there was something wrong with me. (and yes, I realize that it is all in how you internalize the comment . . . he could have meant nothing by it . . . just making small talk . . . so we could instead go to the example of "Oh, you're skinny enough to date.") So the fall at the beginning, I'm tired of sitting in front of a person in the middle of an interaction, knowing I will never speak to them again. And I like to give everyone a chance, but frankly, there is a turning point. So should I just end things at that turning point? Should I just get up and walk out? Hmmmm.

I know that dating is a process. That you may, in fact, have to go out with a lot of people to find the right one. But the stories aren't enough anymore . . . and I'm not asking for marriage (God, they so freak out about that) but I would like to get to the fifth date . . . or maybe sixth months . . . because I'm really beginning to believe it's me that's the problem.

But let's talk about the other fall. When the ramp of possibility is higher . . . let's just say we get along. It's fun. Maybe it's that I think he is cute and therefore don't hear the annoying question or statement (I wonder what mine is . . . it's a two way street, I have to have one . . . and no, don't tell me). I had a great date last week. And it wasn't the date (although the Berkley Front is always exciting) it was the person I was with. The right combination of geeky and cool . . . glasses, I do love a boy in glasses . . . nice solid Midwestern values . . . liked to argue . . . called himself a liberal . . . had an interesting job we could talk about . . . never married, no kids and didn't live with his mom . . . oh, and wasn't gay. He was nice. Really, I'm just looking for that. That is so hard to find. Well, it's easy to find. I've met quite a few men that I find attractive and intelligent . . . but they all have girlfriends. So no possibility. But this one, there was no mention of a girlfriend. And I thought he was with me, in the "this is fun" thought. Up the ramp I go.

And I'm tired of this ramp metaphor. He didn't call. It's been a week. And despite what women think . . . and what other men have told me this week, he knows how to use a phone and no one is that busy. I will assume that he was kidnapped by pirates. Because that is so much cooler that not realizing that he was just a jerk, or even harder, that he is just not into me. But while he is out getting his peg leg fitted, I'm sitting here thinking, "Shit, I'm going to have to do this all over again." And I know it was only one date. But I thought there was a possibility and evidently, I'm a really sucky judge of possibility.

And I'm sure I'll get comments . . . and I'm not giving up. I may even email him and ask if he was kidnapped by pirates, if only to get the comforting line about being busy . . . or no response, but I can say I did the extra thing. But it is so much easier for me to suck into myself. Not as fun, but easier. I'm tired of the car crash. Maybe I should stop getting into cars. (See? Brand new metaphor.)

Or maybe I should get kidnapped by pirates.