Monday, August 22, 2011

Love. Life. Never The Twain Shall Meet.

I've come to the conclusion that I'm probably never going to marry. Forget dating. Forget kids. Forget any of that.

It's not that I don't want to. I would love to find someone I love who loves me too who would want to make that kind of commitment and build a life together. But there are a few things I've come to realize about myself: (1) I'm not willing to obsess over this and put my life on hold to make such a thing happen. I don't want my life to be all about finding and maintaining romance. There are way too many other things going on. (2) I don't think I'm ready for love. Does that make sense? I think, to be more specific, that I am not yet a person worthy of receiving that kind of love from another person. I'm still really immature and kind of childish about a lot of things, self-obsessed sometimes to the point of being selfish and narcissistic, and I have so much to learn about what it means to be a decent person and how I should treat and interact with others. There's also (3) the fact that I'm not feminine or lady-like, that I'm more comfortable in jeans and probably spend less time on my hair than most guys do, and would rather receive a Barnes and Noble gift card than a diamond bracelet any day. I guess (3) doesn't have to be a problem, but I think for a lot of guys it would be.

Anyway, this whole little rant of mine was brought on by an unfortunate recent encounter. A person I've known only a very short while (three months, maybe?) asked me out... if you can call it that. Actually, he messaged me on facebook and said "we should grab dinner sometime." The day he suggested just happened to be a day I was out of town so I told him as much. I wasn't head over heels with the guy based on what I knew about him so far (which wasn't much), but I also have trouble saying no to people, so I replied that while I'd normally say yes, I just happened to be unavailable that day and could we do a raincheck. To which he replied: "sure. just tell me sometime thats good for you when you get back," or something to that effect.

Then Harry Potter happened. If you know anything about me, you know that what happened this July was a pretty HUGE freaking deal. Final movie, final fan conference (yeah... I don't think I'm going to another), first time at the park. A lot happened in that week, and I was still really emotionally invested in it for many weeks afterward. I was distracted by this thing that's been a huge part of the last five years of my life. Plus, work got really busy. Summer is our craziest time, and I had an August event to plan for as well as covering extra shifts for a coworker who was on vacation. And then my social life blew up with offers to get together with friends, many I'd seen recently but some I haven't seen for months or years. Life got crazy and I never got back to him. I feel bad, but at the same time if he'd really wanted to go out with me he could've dropped me another line on facebook (Yeah... not the best way to ask a girl out, but whatever. Some people are shy.) or said something to me in person the few occasions we met afterward (a group of friends often meet at his house to watch "True Blood" on Sunday nights).

But no... this is what happened. Many of these gatherings (game night, "True Blood" night) were cancelled mysteriously at the last minute. He says he'll attend certain other group events, but upon discovering I'll be there almost instantly drops out. This could very well be the whole narcissistic "this-is-about-me" thing when it's really not, so please take it with a grain of salt, but tonight when we left his house after a "True Blood" viewing I turned to my roommate and remarked, "Is [so-and-so] always that quiet? He didn't say a word to practically anyone the whole night." And she said, "Yeah, I think his ego is bruised since he expressed interest in you and you didn't really return the feeling. [Other-Friend] and I have talked about it and we think he's being an idiot, but yeah... that's probably what's going on."

So now I feel really angry. Maybe I'm a jerk. Maybe I'm insensitive. But I don't think so. Here's how I see it:

(1) How does "sure, normally I'd love to" and "let's do a raincheck" translate as rejection? Pretty much: it doesn't.
(2) Again, I know people can be shy about this stuff, but you're the man in this situation. Have some balls. Don't leave this thing hanging there to fizzle and die if you want something more to come of it. All it would have taken was another one-line facebook message: "So, are you still up for that dinner?" or something. I probably would have accepted, even if it didn't come to anything after that. But no... nothing. Just prideful silence.
(3) Don't change your plans to avoid me (if you are, in fact, doing that). You shouldn't ever give me that much power. Believe me, I'm not worth it.
(4) Don't think you have some right to be angry at me when we haven't even gone out. I'm sorry, but I don't owe you anything. So your ego's a little bruised? Get over it. You're older than me and yet you're acting like an immature little middle school girl, reading too much into words and actions that should simply be taken at face value.

So yeah. I really needed to vent. I know I'm blunt and clumsy and awkward and perhaps seem like I'm not open to love because I'm not actively seeking it out, but still... I am open to it. In fact, I long for it sometimes. A lot. The kind of deep, wrenching pang that I imagine an amputee might feel from a ghost limb. There is the notion of something missing, the feeling that I would be better off, more complete, by having it, but I'm not going to do that... I'm not going to be one of those girls that changes themselves and their plans to chase after love. If the love is going to be real, if it's going to be right, it's because you'll find someone who loves who you are and what you're really like. They'll fit into the life you've chosen for yourself, just as you'll fit into the life they've decided to lead.

I will say, though, that anyone who's going to fit romantically into the life I've chosen for myself will have to be better at communicating than this poor idiot who put such a damper on my evening. I'm not even angry at him anymore (okay, well maybe a little bit). Now I just kind of feel sorry for him. But everyone deserves love, so I hope he finds someone who will make him very happy. It just won't be me.

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