What Did I Do?

That's the question the guy I've been dating just posed to me. Three weeks ago my answer might have, "Everything right." Now, my answer's more, "Showed me that you're no different than most guys."

Somewhere along the way with this guy, some things got tangled. Things were misunderstood or allowed to go with discussion and suddenly the steady communication got shaky. I didn't know what had gone wrong, but I knew something had. I brought it up and we had a discussion that resolved very little and that seemed to pretty much seal the fate of whatever we'd had.

So what did he do? He made me think there was a lot of potential, where now I see little. He convinced me that he was more evolved and more open than it turns out he is. He got me all excited about the idea of spending time with someone you really like, only to remind me that liking someone is a small part of things working out.

What did he do? He sent me back to the drawing board to sketch out someone new.

Riding the White Horse

My sister and I occasionally debate whether we're Southern women or not. Our hometown is a mix of Southern and Northern culture, but I've never felt comfortable saying I was Southern because I'm not like many of the Southern women I know. I do have a 1950's housewife inside of me, but I'm more apt to need a recipe for a peach cobbler than to go into anyone's kitchen at anytime and whip one up from scratch.

Over the last year though, my Southern girl may just be having her revenge. I seem to find men who don't know and wouldn't want to learn how to be gentlemen. Now, there are views I have that are more traditional, old-fashioned even. For instance, men pay for dates. I'm a feminist and I'm liberated, but the only confirmation I needed was from a guy friend who said: "If I like you, I'm definitely going to pay." Men who don't like me (in that way) can be my friend and then we can go Dutch all day long. You want to date me? You pick up the tab. In my hometown, this wouldn't have been a problem (there's the Southern I suppose). In New York, I've dated men who protested--all native New Yorkers. I think I need a little more Southern in my dating life, a man willing to ride the white horse.

It isn't simply about picking up the dinner tab (which need not be a bank breaker because the price isn't the point), it's about a caring that I'm having a hard time finding here. It's the "after you" and the walking on the outside of the street, but it's also not dominating the conversation and never bothering to find out anything about me. It's maybe helping me replace my iPod battery because I'm not a techie, but not patronizing me as though I'm not capable of doing it. It's simple kindness, and everyone could use a little more of that.

Breaking Up Is Hard To Do

Breaking up IS hard to do. I’ve never been very good at it. In my younger years, I would just stop calling a guy if I’d found that our interests diverged, that we weren’t compatible past a certain point.

Then, when I found men I actually cared about, I approached the break up differently. One I forced the break up with because I was going to lose him under other circumstances anyway, why not channel my inner bitch and make the break now? Another stopped talking to me at one point over a plate of food (long story), but we managed to begin dating again. When he revealed that he’d omitted some things about who he was, I ended it. The last one also had some complaints about me, becoming unsure if he was prepared to be in a relationship. I didn’t wait around for him to mull it over and ended it.

In each case though, I held on too long. I got huge claret red flags that he wasn’t it and I wasn’t it for him, and God woman let go. I’m faced with another kind of break up now, between me and the career I envisioned having since I was in college. Some days it’s hard to let go. Just like some of those break ups, after the decision has been made I start to wonder if I’ve made the right choice. Were those guys right, was it me and I should have done or said something different? In this job, I wonder the same thing. I should have left this company before now. I should have been making more contacts all along. I should have done more, been better, been a little less me I suppose.

It took me some time to realize it, but with those men and in this job I am not who I want to be. I don’t want to wear my hair straight all the time as one boyfriend requested. I don’t want to argue all the time as one boyfriend was prone to do. And I don’t want to keep climbing a ladder that leads to something I’m not passionate about and if I’m honest with myself never have been. Those men were stand ins for the real thing, for all my hopes and dreams of what love would look like. Our lives are filled with rest stops on the way to our true destination. There’s nothing wrong with making a pit stop, but in love and in career, it’s best to know when the time is right to get back in the car and get on with the journey.

Commitment

I've found myself in a dating slump again, but spring is here and summer's coming. I expect to strike up conversations at barbecues and to spot good looking men at New York street fairs. I used to loathe dating, find myself disinterested in the pursuit nearly as soon as it began. No longer, not for the last year or so. I've been the girl up for a date with the guy who seems nice enough, who engages me in interesting conversation, throws in a good joke. Why not? I've encouraged myself when I can feel the request for the number approach. I don't regret any of them, but I am looking for something I haven't found in any of them. Come to think of it, not sure I've ever found. I know blanket statements will get us nowhere.

They could all keep their nice dinners and the seemingly sincere, if otherwise motivated, compliments. Or if you're incapable of commitment, don't even bother. Not the commitment of a Tiffany's ring or even necessarily the commitment of a relationship. I'd just like some follow through. You like me you say? Call when you're supposed to. You want to go out on Saturday? Follow up on that email invite. We have a special bond that you don't share with any other woman? For God's sake, don't let me get away.

When I got my first job 7 years ago, I walked in and thought I'd be out of there in two years tops. It didn't happen, but I never thought it was a conscious choice I made. The years passed, but they passed day by day. I wouldn't have gotten to the years if I didn't commit to the day. When these 30 something men avow their desire to get married, how will they commit to years when they can't commit to the day?

The Danger of What If

I've been so neglectful of this blog, probably because I've been slightly neglectful of my love life of late too. Mr. Potential has zero right now and Mr. (hell I don't even think I gave him a nickname) Other Guy I Was Dating has been nixed as well.

Turns out Mr. Other Guy was dating someone else at the same time and met her through the same friend as he met me. I'm not upset that he was dating someone else, there was certainly no exclusivity and no mention of not dating other people. Always assume they are dating someone else until the fact is made explicit that he (and you) aren't. Other Guy had already become extremely spotty in his communication (perhaps a result of having to date two or more people?), but I tend to keep a bit of what if... in my back pocket until it becomes finally, irrevocably true to me that it's done. Or more accurately that I'm done. Holding on too long is one of my great flaws.

From men to my career, it's hard for me to let go. Fear is of course that looming culprit. If I give up this guy who I do sort of like and who has maybe 7 out of the 10 things I want, what if the next guy has only 5? The wondering can drive you crazy and drive you to never get out. I have to tell myself that better may not always be the very next thing, because sometimes it isn't. In the long run, if you make your mistake, learn from it, and actually use that knowledge, better is bound to come down the road bearing ... oh maybe Mr. 8 out of 10 with it.

Potentially Awful

NIKKI

Mr. Potential and I went out for our third date Friday night. We met a few weeks ago at a party and dates one and two were great. The conversation flowed seamlessly from music to religion to food. He had a good sense of humor, though slightly corny but I've always had a soft spot for that. He isn't my typical type of guy, but then the trifecta of great phone calls, emails, and dates aren't typical either.

All week, I looked forward to Friday night, to seeing him in person and seeing if there was potential for more. We agreed to meet at 9:30 on Friday, after he would finally be finished with work at his high powered job. I found the outfit that was casual, yet sexy and applied my favorite perfume accordingly. The night before I'd gone on a hunt to find the right hair product and carefully attacked any pimples that might attempt to erupt. Friday night came and after drinks with my girlfriends, 9:30 began to approach. He sent me a text asking if we could meet a little later maybe 10? No problem, my girlfriends are still willing to hang out. We wend our way through 3 different neighborhoods, closer to where Mr. Potential and I had agreed to meet. Well, 10 came and went as did 10:30 and 11. My girlfriends have been troopers all night, but have to leave me. Still not a problem because he's sent me a text that he'll be there in 5 minutes. I make my way to the restaurant (it's about 11:30 now) to find the place closed. Diners already inside can get out, but I can't get in. NO problem because he'll be here in 5 minutes, hmm actually should have been here 10 minutes ago at this point...

Two and a half hours after we'd agreed to meet (that'd be midnight), he finally shows and I am pissed. I'm ravenous (I'd turned down food at every place I'd gone with my girlfriends, cold (sexy is not generally warm), and did I mention pissed? He was full of apologies and then jokes to try to remedy the situation, but sometimes you've gotten to a point where none of that is enough.

At one point, the prospect of a 4th date of even talking to this guy again was dying a slow and torturous death. I asked about his ex (brilliant move on my part), the waiter spilled water on him, and the conversation stalled at every turn. In a particularly evil move, I ordered a tuna nicoise salad, and when asked by the waiter if I was okay with the ancovies told him I was indeed. In my mind, there was zero prospect for a kiss so why not put an exclamation on the point.

But, somewhere in the last half an hour, things got drastically better. I made a joke and then he made one. We traded a few jabs about the night and suddenly even with anchovy on the breath (I did manage to find a piece of gum), I wanted nothing more than to kiss him. You never can tell how the night will end up and I'm looking forward to finding out how the 4th date goes.

Kings of the Forest?

NIKKI

Men. Cowardly lions, the lot of them. They roar and make a big show, but really they're scared of most everything. They are especially scared of open, honest conversations. Flashback to Sex and the City, if you would, and the Berger episode arc. This is the guy who broke up with Carrie on a Post-it, and the explanation of his friends pointed to women becoming hysterical and overly emotional. I have known men who had untreated scars from street fights and permanently disfigured fingers from aggressive basketball games. Physical is no problem, but emotional looms too large.

I know I told Nikki I would call her two weeks ago, but I'm afraid of what we might talk about. Instead, I'll forward her jokes and Youtube links. Or maybe I'll chat with her and act as if I don't remember I was supposed to call unless she brings it up.

I know that I have shown only a limited interest in Nikki. However, when she points this out, I will protest that it is only because she's shown a limited interest in me. I will become offended and cut off all communication in protest.

This may come as a shock to men, but I don't love those "serious" conversations. Dissection is often a favorite pasttime of women, but I'd rather talk about an outfit or the great meal I had the night before. I don't particularly want to interrogate you about why you haven't called when you said you would or where this is "going." I do it because as interesting as angst can be, I prefer clarity. I appreciate a "You are here" in my life's journey. Dorothy and the boys would have too, even the cowardly lion. So, boys: feel the fear but do it anyway.