If I wanted you, YOU WOULD KNOW IT III (Stop being a narcissistic douchebag)

Based on the comments received on the last two blog posts, I’m still not getting my message across. So let me try to be clearer. When I had this conversation with the guy from Why do I have to say let’s just be friends when we already are?, he gave me the perfect analogy. He told me that hitting on me was like being in the desert and seeing an oasis. He was thirsty; he had to drink. You know what the major difference is between me and a body of water? I’m not a fucking inanimate object. But these guys don’t see it that way. 

That guy, and the guy leaving all the comments, seems to believe that a) women have no agency in their romantic lives and b) any agency we might have is of no material importance to what they want. That’s all they hear in their minds. ME WANT. ME WANT. And what happens when you tell a guy he’s acting like a narcissistic douchebag? He patiently explains why it’s all your fault. 

For all those guys, let me spell it out. You don’t get to tell me I don’t have a right to my feelings. Your inability to predict them does not invalidate my natural anger at you treating me like an inanimate object. And if for one moment you’re mustering your feminist/humanist credentials in your head to argue against what I’ve written here, stop and think about why you’re doing that. Because I told you you didn’t have the right to go after what you wanted. And you’re incapable of recognizing that what I want might have equal importance to what you want. After all, I don’t have the right to want what I want. Not when it conflicts with what you want. 

Let me be even clearer. THIS ISN’T ABOUT YOU. It’s about me. But all you heard was me telling you not do something you wanted to do.

If I wanted you, you would know it-- the song!

Where's Beyonce when you need her? Someone write the music to this.

If I Were Interested, You Would Know It

I’m not afraid to hit on a guy
I’m not gonna let too much time go by
Pout my lips, shake my hips, or go in for a kiss
It’s not a signal he’s gonna miss

CHORUS: I'm not playing games, I'm not being coy 

I'm just not into you, feel me boy?
So take your feelings and keep a tight lid on it 
Cuz I don't give a shit if you want to hit it 
If I were interested, you would know it

I’m not saying I don’t enjoy your company
You’ve been cool and a pretty good friend to me
Ain’t no spark, made no mark, just can’t fake chemistry
We can just stay friends while I stay free

CHORUS

No means no, I ain't just playin' 
Stop a minute and listen to what I'm sayin' 
Don't matter if I'm drunk, in a funk, or feeling lonely
You ain't never gonna be my one and only 

CHORUS

If I wanted you, YOU WOULD KNOW IT

Good lord. How many posts do I have to make about my problems with friends who want more? I know, I know. It’s me. Obviously, it’s me. I get that it’s me; I just don’t get why it’s me. If you read this blog, or even the last post, you can see that I don’t do subtle. At best, I’m typically accused of being blunt. At worst, rude. I flat out admitted to a guy in high school that I had a huge crush on him. Knowing full well he didn’t feel the same.* 

Ok, I’ll liven up this blog post with some more proof of my incredible bluntness with guys. In high school, I got high and told a guy I fell in love with him at first sight. In college, while drunk, I got the sense that a new guy in my circle of friends was interested in me. He’s giving me a back rub, and I’m thinking, no way do I come back to college and on my first night make out with someone. There’s an awkward silence. Then I realized I just said that out loud. After college, I was out with a guy who was giving me a ton of mixed signals. So I told him that my mother was already picking out china patterns for us. Another awkward silence when he didn’t laugh at my joke. Hanging out at a friend’s apartment with his hot out of town guest—“Is it too soon to ask you to sit on my feet?” Yeah. It wasn’t. Most recently, I guy I liked at a friend’s birthday drove me home and when we got there I panicked about asking for contact information. So I kissed him. Then asked. 

So recently, when a guy read me a laundry list of things I had done that he took as signals I was interested, I was astounded that he had missed the obvious. Namely, I had never flirted with him. I had never inadvertently touched him. I had never sat next to him when there was room to sit farther away. I told another friend to stop trying to kiss me. He didn’t and accused me of playing games. Playing games? Mixed signals? How could I strike anyone who knows me as someone who doesn’t go after what she wants? I don’t get it. But let me make it clear. If I wanted you, you would know it. And likely at some cost to my personal dignity if history is anything to go by. 

* In case you’re interested, ten years later when I show up to my high school reunion looking smoking hot, said guy is full of astonishment that we didn’t date in high school. History rewritten.

There's nowhere to go from high expectations but down

I had more or less committed to let this blog sit idle but this was too good a story to pass up. And by good, I of course mean a train wreck. Let's call it the #2 Worst Sexual Experience of My Life. 

Prologue: A guide to dating Jewish girls 

Maybe it's unfair of me to expect the goyim to be culturally sensitive about issues that don't affect them. So in this public forum, let me just let you know, you need to warn a girl if you've still got all your original parts. We're a bit squeamish about it. 

Chapter 1. Anticipation 

There was quite a build up to my first time with the guy I'm going to call the Cap'n. Not only had we been dating several weeks, my body decided to go on strike when I was finally ready to sleep with him, which added an additional several days to the waiting period. There were the two things that got my expectations sky high. I talked to a friend about my new guy who mentioned that certain things might be in proportion to his 6'3" frame. I was also repeatedly guaranteed a great time by the Cap'n when I did finally sleep with him. Also, it was nice to have a lead up period to get the mood killing discussion of sexual health out of the way. 

Chapter 2. The main event 

I'm immediately hit with the little surprise from the prologue. No problem! I can roll with it. Would have been nice to be warned, but hey, it's business time. 

The next blow comes pretty soon after. After a relatively perfunctory foreplay period, it really is time to get down to business. What do you mean, you thought we could "do some stuff first?" Are these magical condoms that work as long as you're in the same room with them? Because the ones I'm familiar with only work when you put them on. 

And the hits keep coming! Because guess what happens when the condom gets on? Performance issues! Now my sample size is only two, but both uncircumcised guys I've been with complained about not being able to keep an erection with a condom on. There's a pun in there somewhere about giving me a hard time for insisting on condoms. 

But there's more? Why what else could there be? Ah, not just performance issues, but performance anxiety! The Cap'n's delicate sensibilities are too frayed for him to come the first time he sleeps with anyone. Yay, that just means I'm going to have work extra hard! But it will be worth it right? Because I was guaranteed a great time… 

Yes, amazingly I'm still thinking that somehow this guy is going to make good on that promise. But he in no way has the skills to back up that guarantee. But wait, by now you should know there's more! Not only does he not have the skills, he's not even that clear on the basics of female anatomy. I mean it. He wasn't even close. 

Chapter 3. After. Glow. 

Finally things wrap up, and it's time to get some sleep since we both have work the next day. Typical guy that I am, I'm lying there wondering what time it is and how many hours I have to go until I can get out of there. During my protracted musings on the nature of how much better it is in my bed, the Cap'n gets out of bed to start reading some stuff on the computer. The computer, which is in the bedroom. Not like in another room where I can't see the glow of the monitor. I'm lying there for what feels like four hours but is probably about a half hour, when I realize I actually can just go home. 

So I start getting dressed. He scrambles to save the situation by saying he was just about to come to bed. Because it's less rude if you're prepared to stop once the person is already pissed off. I am having none of this. I just want to get the hell out of there. So I leave, insisting that a 1am walk on a weeknight through the city is fine. Because I'm an idiot and don't have any cab money. I'm a block away from my place when he rides up on his bike. I should be glad that he did the gentlemanly thing and got his ass out of bed to come after me, but at this point I'm already safe. All I can think is, great, another awkward good night.

Chapter 4. That was easy 

Ok, so it's quite clear that I've got to get rid of this guy. My strategy is going to be keep the nighttime plans I already have with friends then dump him the first time I can get him to come out somewhere. Amazingly, shockingly, precedent-settlingly, I'm able to rid myself of him with very little fuss. 

Two days after the event, I get a long email that ends in the request for a do-over. Note to the Cap'n: when a girl literally risks her life and iPhone to get away from you, she don't want no do-over. Apparently the Cap'n is expecting me to make good on my promise to sleep with him regularly since I've asked him to forswear all other pussy in favor of mine (or forswear mine in favor of all others). This is also my sole purpose in his life, since he doesn't ask me to do anything, just requests that I let him know the minute I'm able to jump his bones again. I use the term bones loosely here. I stick with my strategy until I get a late night email saying he feels bad for trying to guilt me into a date, but the exclusivity thing has been doing a mental number on him. 

An out? It can't really be this easy? Ah but it is. I agree to dispense with the exclusivity rather than risk his discomfort. He hedges and says it's fine unless I want to dispense with it for my own reasons. So I reply that I do and wish him the best. The Queen of the Email Dumps reigns.

The X factor

Everyone has an X factor. You meet someone, you like their personality, the way they dress, their taste in music, something else, and it piques your interest. And you find out that one thing that hits you right in the hormones. Do not pass go, do not collect a handful of awkward dates, proceed immediately to infatuation. The X factor will make you explain away or ignore any other attribute about the person. It will make you ascribe all sorts of positive personality traits that might not exist. In short, it will reduce you to the yearning, bumbling fool of your teenage years.

Think you don’t have an X factor? Make note of the next time you say “God, that is so hot.” It can be anything: his big brain, she reads science fiction, her sexy accent, he makes his bed. Ok, that last one is probably just me. Maybe you’re a guy susceptible to the Manic Pixie Dream Girl. Maybe you’re a girl who fails to notice that he’s not self-confident, he’s just an arrogant ass. Or maybe, like me, you’re reduced to a puddle when you find out someone has talent. Give me a guy who can sing or act or paint, and I turn all tongue-tied and shy.

If you’re really, really lucky, it all turns out for the best and as you get to know the person, you find out they are actually as cool as they seem. If you’re unlucky, you get strung along for months deluding yourself they’re better than they are. If you’re totally messed up, your X factor is something like instability or unavailability and you find yourself accidentally driving the getaway car after an armed robbery or telling all your friends that she’s going to leaver her husband as soon as the kids are in college. But you couldn’t help it—he’s just so hot.

The numbers mean everything

So the early results seem to say that changing the pictures was a good move. Traffic has increased. I actually went on my first date last night. It went well. I may see him again, and he definitely seems open to the possibility of friendship, which is a refreshing change.

Having changed my pictures, I’m left with another disturbing issue. I’m becoming too old to date. Apparently I failed to look at this before, but shockingly, guys prefer younger women. Not just young women—younger women. There's some 35 year old guy out there who won't even consider women his own age, but thinks as long as she can drink they can reasonably get along. This person was born in the 90s. THE 90s!!! This person has never owned or probably seen a Fischer Price plastic record player. This person has no idea what life was like before the internet or cell phones. This person's parents probably pay her cell phone bill. But whatever.

I find this strange. The majority of my paired up friends are either the same age or the woman is older than the man so there are plenty of men not bothered by that idea. And this is online dating-- by all means, only hit on the hot 34 year olds. There are still plenty of them out there. Or maybe they do and they're just trying to prevent the un-hot 34 year olds from hitting on them. I don't know though, my age limits don't stop 45 year olds from hitting on me. It's a mystery.

I actually tried to solve this mystery. A 37 year old messaged me and his profile said he was interested in women from 26 to 36. So I emailed back asking why he was interested in women his own age. He thanked me for pointing out his profile was out of date and went ahead and fixed it. So now he’s interested in women from 28 to 37. Argh.

A picture's worth a thousand words (from creepy old dudes)

I'm just not as popular as I used to be. Traffic on my profile has been way down compared to previous attempts. I should be delighted that I'm not getting tons of messages from guys who've never read a book, but I just feel rejected. Or old. There is just no pleasing some people. The decline could be because I outed myself as someone looking for the real deal, the new set of pictures, or the addition of a year to my birthday. Being scientific about this, I decided to change one of these variables. But not back to how it originally was. I mean, that would really be scientific. But I'm only a social scientist, so it's ok.

So I changed the pictures. When I set up my profile this time, I used three pictures.

1. Sultry stare: Following advice from OkCupid, I went with the sultry stare into the camera. Or as best as I can pull something like that off. The picture is brand spanking new too.

2. Quirky fun: Don't let that intense look fool you! I also drink beer, just like girls you'd want to hang out with.

3. Look! I go places!: The full body shot of me standing next to a Medieval wall. Just who you'd want to travel with-- the girl in a baggy t-shirt and weird shoes.

Unfortunately, the best picture anyone's ever taken of me did not make the cut. It's really out of date at this point. But it makes my boobs look really big (not a lie), so I wondered if its absence explained my sudden lack of popularity. Also, the large rack cuts both ways. In a baggy t-shirt it just makes me look chubby or pregnant as evidenced by picture 3.

Since I don't spend my time on vacation standing in front of things, I was limited for a substitute. I also apparently spend my time at parties making emphatic points to people. The evidence doesn't lie—there are loads of pictures of me talking, hands caught mid-wild gesticulation. Do I want to date this girl, or just engage in hand-to-hand combat?

In the end, I put in a picture from my birthday last year wearing a sexy top. It's waist up so should be enough to convince people I didn't lie about my weight class. The disadvantage is that I have a drink in my hand. Chubby girl who travels or hot girl who drinks too much? I guess we'll find out which is better. Since the re-post, I got a few more your-picture-is-amazing messages so that's not actually an improvement. (Seriously. No pleasing me.) But we'll see if the change convinces guys I contact to email me back.

Third time's a charm

So I'm back online. I reactivated my profile with a new focus on finding Mr. Right. Shut up. Apparently people know people who met their spouses online. Just like people know people who have been abducted by aliens. This time I decided to be brave and risk making two classic mistakes in online profiles. We'll see if it produces different results.

You definitely want to avoid looking desperate on your online profile, especially if you're a woman in her 30s. So saying that I am looking for something serious seems pretty risky to me. I tried to be honest about looking for someone who wants to support me as well as being supported.

The other change I made was to tell people what I'm not looking for. This article on Slate is just about the worst thing I've ever read about online dating. The guy completely lies about who he is and it all magically works out for him? Too bad for all those women whose time he wasted, I guess, because he got his in the end. And yes, I take this personally. I've definitely had dates with his type.

Saying what you don't want is incredibly dicey. Often these synopses come across as the bitter rants of someone who just got dumped. So me saying that if your online profile is aspirational instead of honest implies I've been around the online dating block a few times. No idea if it will even work.

The post-hiatus danger zone

It has been several months since my last relationship ended. Usually, the relationship ends, I go into dating hiatus for a little while, then decide to re-enter the world of dating right around the time I start to feel lonely and horny. This is a precarious time. This is the time when I do something stupid. This is the magic few weeks when I hook up with an ex or have a random one night stand. Unfortunately, knowing I'm going to do something stupid doesn't mean I don't do the stupid things I fear. 

The only way out of the post-hiatus danger zone is to do the stupid thing. Which I then regret and usually scares me straight until I can get into a relationship or until I enter another dating hiatus putting me back into the post-hiatus danger zone some time later. If anyone has alternative (read: better) solutions to surviving the post-hiatus danger zone, please submit them in the comments section. The only idea I can come up with is to go completely dry for the entire period. This could backfire as then I'd have to face doing something stupid completely sober. But it would also mean I wouldn't wake up the next morning filled with remorse and a hangover.

And, not to leave you in suspense, the stupid thing I did was sleep with a friend. This is probably my most frequently committed error while in the post-hiatus danger zone. I tend to have a least a couple of guy friends in the mix that I've never dated, but I've never been too sure haven't wanted to date me (best defined as a gaggle). I've actually managed to get through it ok on occasion. No idea about this time. Luckily, he was a relatively new friend so not someone I'd agonize over burning. But still, when my friends ask me how come he never comes around anymore, I really don't want to have to tell them I accidentally slept with him. I'm not sure some of them are aware that it's possible to accidentally sleep with someone. Some people apparently don't experience the post-hiatus danger zone. Lucky them.

"It was nice meeting you."

"It was nice meeting you."

"It was nice meeting you."

"It was nice meeting you."

"It was nice meeting you."

"It was nice meeting you."

"It was nice meeting you."

"It was nice meeting you."

"It was nice meeting you."

"It was nice meeting you."

"It was nice meeting you."

"It was nice meeting you."

"It was nice meeting you."

"It was nice meeting you."

"It was nice meeting you."

"It was nice meeting you."

"It was nice meeting you."

"It was nice meeting you."

"It was nice meeting you."

"It was nice meeting you."

Today's blog post is a homework assignment. I've apparently become rusty at dating because when a date ended on an awkward silence, I filled it with "email me when you get back from your holiday travel." Gah. So I must practice. Because no matter how plummy your English accent, I just can't deal with blond eyelashes. And nothings says have a nice life like it was nice meeting you.

Ugly stepsister fights back

I didn't know how right I was in writing up the characteristics of an ugly stepsister. It turns out I nailed it with number 2 and number 5. I need a little back story here because in my rush to make clever blog posts, I realize I never wrote down what actually prompted them. So….

I went to a barbecue, met a guy, became friends, and he asked me out. This guy seemed a little bit brighter than the average bear, but I had some misgivings given extreme geographic undesirably and a suspicion we didn't have much in common. But I let him try on the dress, and the suspicions were confirmed on the date. After going for every conversational gambit in my repertoire, we ended up talking about people we knew in common. I tried to be real on the date, even telling him that failing to set up the second date on the first date means I'm not interested enough for a second date. And then he asked me out the next day anyway. I said no, we were looking for different things. He accepted and we remained friends.

Flash forward a couple of weeks and this arrives in my inbox:

"I know what will make you smile, when are we going out on our second date? You promised remember? LOL kidding girl, but I figure I’ll ask you everyday for the next 5 years."

WTF? Why is he asking me out after I said no? The reason becomes clear.

"I’m by no means a cocky dude, but one thing I do know is that I get along with just about any and everyone I come in contact with. I think I can have fun with any and everyone as well, making the best out of any situation (hence the fun squad lol). And you are the first girl to ever turn down a second date offer, and your reason was legit in your mind, but if I’m not the only one, then I think you may need to rethink your methods or you’ll end up never finding the right one."

Gold start to me! I'm the first girl to ever turn down the offer of a second date (twice!!!). I admit to completely blowing it on his having an inferiority complex. Despite his going on and on about how much he likes me, I guess he wasn't putting me on a pedestal. Or it was on the one he thinks he already occupies. Good thing it's clear there's something wrong with me that I don't want to go out with him again.

Let me clear up any confusion right now. This guy is overweight and has a moderately successful job. He does not have the resume to back up that statement. But, clearly, if I'm in the habit of turning him down then I'm never going to find the right one. Great. Oblivious and stubborn. Seriously. Where do I find these guys?

Ugly Stepsisters

Far be it from me to let a good clothing analogy die. There’s a name for people who are so desperate to have something, they’ll do anything to make it fit. They’re called ugly stepsisters. They’re going to cut off their toes to get their feet into the shoe and MAKE it fit. My last date was with an ugly stepsister. Ugly stepsisters agree with everything you say. When you say you’re afraid of commitment, they agree and tell you that they’re not even thinking marriage for the next couple of years. They are then confused when you tell them you’re not looking for the same things. Ugly stepsisters hear you tell them you never have a second date with a guy that wasn’t arranged on the first date, and then ask you on a second date the next day. Ugly stepsisters love that you have strong opinions, but ignore what those opinions are.

Ugly stepsisters can be hard to spot. They want the shoe so much, they can seduce you into believing that they should have it. So what makes an ugly stepsister?

1. Too many compliments. An ugly stepsister wants to keep attention focused away from themselves so no one notices the blood dripping out of the shoe.

2. Imperviousness to blisters. You can’t rub an ugly stepsister the wrong way. They’ll turn any negative aspect about you into a positive.

3. Warts. Obvious sign of an ugly stepsister.

4. Fatigue. Trying to shove the shoe on their foot makes for a tiring date.

5. Stubbornness. Ugly stepsisters won’t take no for an answer.

6. Underhandedness. When they’re not locking your true love away from you, they’re tricking you into a date.

7. Inferiority complex. You know it and they know it. They’re no Cinderella.

Given my charming personality, I've been out with quite a few ugly stepsisters in my time. It's hard to explain to other people why I don't like them. "How is a guy who compliments you a bad thing?"  I'm glad I finally have the terminology down. 

Trying on the dress

Male readers, bear with me through this analogy. You know when you’re out and you happen to see this really beautiful dress in a store? Check out the price tag and it’s expensive, and it’s not like you were looking for a dress in the first place. You have two choices. Walk away because you can’t afford it anyway. Try it on because it might not fit. If it does and looks fabulous, then it’s worth the money. The advantage of the walk away plan is you don’t then have to go into a dressing room, take off all your clothes, and spend five minutes deciding whether the fluorescent lighting is creating the appearance of cellulite or if that’s what your butt really looks like. The disadvantage is you keep remembering that beautiful dress that you didn’t buy.

My position is, try on the dress. It never fits. So I never have any regrets, and it’s worth the effort. It’s like that with dating too. Sometime a guy I’ve become friends with asks me out. I don’t think we’re a fit, but if I say no to a date, he’s left wondering what would’ve happened if I had just given him a shot. So I let him try on the dress. This way he’ll see it doesn’t fit and we can carry on being friends with no wondering what might have been. And on the odd chance that the dress looks amazing…

The accessories make the woman

A good friend of mine has advised me to buy a more expensive purse. In fact she believes "we all need gucci purses." My $35 purse is not doing the job apparently. Oh sure, it's holding all my stuff, and has lasted for a couple of years despite heavy use. But it's also convincing guys I’m 25. I don't wanna buy a Gucci purse. I don't wanna get crows feet or grey hair. I don't wanna wear sweaters sets or pearls or jeans that go all the way to my waist. But I also don't wanna find myself on a date with a 23 year old. Again.

* That is my actual bag in the picture, except mine is brown. Feel free to judge.

The economics of pickiness

Alright, all of us singletons have been accused of being too picky at some point or another. Don't worry; this is not where I go into a rant about why someone who's such a great catch should start lowering standards. To lapse into economics for a moment, the essential question is whether the marginal benefit of being in someone's company outweighs the marginal cost. In equation form:

where i = all the things you like about the person and j = all the things you don't

and α, β, δ, and γ are weights

So you're out on a date. You're getting to know someone. Every new piece of information is either an i (positive) or a j (negative). You keep dating the person until the next j added tips the equation in that direction.

Where we open ourselves up to attack is what that j is. The proverbial straw that breaks the camel's back, the last j is unfortunately what we give as the reason we don’t want to keep seeing the person. So if my last j (under the category of Interests) is he likes the American version of The Office EVEN THOUGH he's seen the original, I get called out for being too picky. Which, if you look at the math, is totally unfair.

First, there's the issue of weights. One part of being accused of being too picky is when people don't like our weights. If my α is 0.85 and my β is 0.05, someone is going to come along and tell me I care too much about personality, and I should focus more on whether or not he's a good person. Actually, a friend of mine who got married by an arranged marriage keeps telling me I need to weight γ zero. That's going to make for a fun marriage when the kids are out of the house and that was the only thing you had in common.

Generally, I think it breaks down like this for me*:

α = 0.27

β = 0.27

δ = 0.19

γ = 0.27

So, liking the US Office added 0.27 to the right-hand side of the equation. That's really not very much at all. What it really comes down to is that the left-hand side of the equation didn't have enough i's to balance it out. If he were better looking, less religious, less inclined to spend the date talking about his exes, then that little 0.27 wouldn't have been enough to tip the balance.

So the next time someone gets on your case for being too picky, hand them a copy of this equation. Then plug in some numbers to show them quite clearly how rational it is to dump a woman for having man hands.

*Feel free to put your own numbers in the comments section—if you can't type greek, that's alpha, beta, delta, and gamma.

Shitting where you eat

Surprisingly, work has suddenly become a place to pick up guys. I say surprisingly because everyone here is old. Even the young people. The coworkers at an old job used the labels "old 30" and "young 30" to describe what I mean. While almost all 20 year-olds there were single, lived in or close to the city, and attended happy hours, only some of the 30 years-olds were similarly situated. Hence young 30 to describe the people who weren't way out in the suburbs with spouses or kids who no longer had a social life.

In the year and a half I've been working this job, I've only met one other young 30 person. I'm going off on a tangent because this is a good story. He was leading a training given to new employees. One of the other trainers was an older woman who kept trying to set us up. She would start extolling his good points to me every time we got near each other. Which would have been fine except this guy was currently playing Brad in a production of Rocky Horror Picture Show and was a really snazzy dresser. Awkward. I wonder if she ever figured out she was trying to set me up with a gay guy.

Anyway, I started a flirtation with a guy who sits near me and eventually he asked me out. This is was a big step for me, because he is old. Like in his 40s old. This has its advantages. He literally wined and dined me, but since he's so much older (and consequently farther along in his career), I didn't feel guilty about him picking up such a large check.

Some more lessons learned

I don't make it a habit to regret my decisions, and I'm happy to say I think my experience with the BT was beneficial. My post-breakup take home is that I need to date guys closer to my age. Yes, they have pot-bellies and receding hairlines. But at least they have their shit together. I'm saying goodbye to the younger guys who are still trying to figure it all out. However valid their search, they're a pain in my ass.

The second thing that came out of the experience was an unexpected trip into DXBF nostalgia. Post-breakup with my one serious boyfriend was quite a bit of recrimination for being with someone so completely messed up. But my trip down memory lane reminded me that giant emotional problems aside, we were really compatible. I haven't found anyone else I get along with that well. So years after the fact, I feel much better about the relationship and less bad about getting dumped.

Thank you, BT.  I'd tell you that in person, but that's going to make for one awkward conversation on the sidewalk when we finally run into each other.

Post mortem

I did end up getting an email from the BT the next day. Poor kid. It was sweet, apologizing for making me mad. I emailed back to say I wasn’t mad, I had forced his hand for a reason, and there’s no reason to think this was anything other than mutual. In retrospect, I think the line, “But I can't help but think tomorrow I'm some girl you used to know,” was misinterpreted. I meant that from my point of view. I was trying to say, deal with this now, because if you don’t, I’m gone tomorrow. Not, deal with this now, because if you don’t, it shows how little you care about me.

Anyway, I was glad I got the chance to clear up the texts. Having said that, I think text message is a great way to end the relationship. Everyone is so horrified by this, but aren’t breakups better when you are forced to type out your thoughts rather than blurting out something stupid? Talking it over with a friend, she made the point that at least texts are a conversation. When one person breaks up by email (or the infamous Sex and the City post-it note), it doesn’t give the other person a chance to respond. After I got over feeling guilty about that statement (I’ve blocked sender so the other person can’t respond), I realized that is the crucial aspect. As long as there’s a back and forth, I don’t see any reason why breakups have to be done in person. I’m not sure the benefit of looking someone in the eye outweighs the cost of being looked in the eye.

Once more on to the breach

You can probably guess what the point of this post is. Since this blog is about dating in the technological age, I'll go ahead and just post the series of texts that was the end of my latest relationship. But first, some background. The BT and I were hanging out after I got out of work. He was texting a friend to see if he could come out and finally called him and agreed to come over. I'm standing there like, what the fuck?, and the BT tells me the friend would be annoyed if I came with him. So he decided to go hang out with the friend and send me home with promises to see me later. After I got home, I started reading and fell asleep. In that time I got:

     BT: Hey sorry, you at home? Want me to bring you some food? 8:13 PM

     BT: Are you mad at me? 8:44 PM

I wake up to the two texts noting the first one was sent a good 45 minutes after we parted ways. So it's not like he immediately felt bad about what happened. This is what happened next:

     Me: I think so. I fell asleep 8:59 PM

     Me: Where are you? 9:07 PM 

After I didn't hear from him I called, but he was still at his friend's. I said something like, do you only want to be with me when you have nothing better to do? But he was not in a place where he could talk so I hung up. He followed up with me by text:
 

     BT: I'll talk to you tomorrow ok? 9:21 PM

     Me: No. Don't talk to me if you're not willing to sort this out. 9:23 PM

     BT: That's what i meant. When we're both sober 9:24 PM

     Me: I'm sober, and hurt as hell. I'm not going to feel better that you're hanging out with friends so you can take care of me tomorrow. 9:27 PM 
     BT: Well i'm not sober, but i am sorry, and i'll talk to you tomorrow 9:31 PM

     Me: I get that. But I can't help but think tomorrow I'm some girl you used to know. 9:37 PM

     Me: No snark. No way you stay out drinking and fix it tomorrow. 9:51 PM

     BT: I'm not sure if i want to fix it, 9:56 PM

     BT: And it really is hard for me to say that, and i wish it wasn't over the phone 10:00 PM 
     BT: Fair enough. I guess if I want a post mortem I'll ask. Have a nice life. 10:04 PM

     BT: No, [datista], please don't be like that. I want to talk to you tomorrow. You mean more that to me 10:07 PM

     Me: ? You don't want to fix it but you do? 10:16 PM

     BT: I just want to talk to you ok? 10:18 PM

     Me: Why? 10:20 PM

     BT: Because you aren't just some girl 10:27 PM

     Me: I appreciate that. But i don't want to go through a breakup twice. 10:33 PM

     BT: Ok, but this texting shit just doesn't feel right 10:43 PM

     Me: As long as breaking up does, the medium is irrelevant

It's a few hours after the last text and I've had a chance to process a little by email and over the phone with friends. Basically, I've been feeling like the relationship has been stale for the past couple of weeks. I hate to put a timeline on these things, but after four months I felt like we should love each other if we were going to. I wasn't feeling it, and since it was clear he wasn't feeling it either, best to just get out. 

Since I wrote them, I don't know how my texts come off. I hope they don't sound bitter because I didn't mean them that way, and I don't want him to come away thinking that I was detached to cover up my true emotions. Not out of pride, but because I made this whole big thing out of the grace of 30, and I want him to know breakups can be like this. No big drama, no tears, no angry words, no pretense of being friends, just goodbye. 

So I'm not upset. I'm sad that I'm losing a reliable source of sex. But frankly, that was going stale too. I'm just disappointed. My heart isn't broken but I sort of wish it were. Here's him telling me that I mean more to him than some cheap breakup by text and I'm saying cheap breakup by text is ok by me. I"m starting to think that in all my practicality I'm just not capable of being in love. After all, when it comes down to it, I'm just someone who'd can't be bothered to break up in person.

Don't hate the player

At the risk of gender baiting, I have to say I can’t believe some guys still know so little about women. Oh hell, I’m not gender baiting. I can’t believe some guys still know this little about people. The guys I’m talking about are the inventors and adherents of the seduction industry. Popularized by The Game, this industry sells men a proven method to pick up women (and get laid).

I have been totally sucked into reading up on this after the BT first told me about it. Yeah, I know, I’m waaaaay behind the times. (He’s not an adherent, but a friend is. I’m trying to figure out how I can go out with the friend and see it in action.) It’s hilarious. These guys really believe their stupid techniques work. They’ll even back it up with pop psychology or evolutionary biology. Apparently, women have evolved an attraction for guys who subtly insult us.

But I ask you, what is the number one contributing factor to attractiveness? Yeah. Confidence. All other things being equal, the confident bird catches the worm. So if you designed a program that told guys what to say/do when around the opposite sex, if you gave them training, and even took them out to practice, what do you think would happen? Duh, you idiots. It would work. But not because faking disinterest makes a woman compete for your attention. Because being talkative and friendly and not desperate is attractive. To people, not just women.

I can’t honestly say it’s a bad thing that guys are being given this confidence. Nor am I upset it’s promoting a misogynist point of view. It only is if the guys are so stupid they think these women are actually into them. Really, the only thing that upsets me is that they’re stupid enough to believe they’re own hype. That’s just sad.