Around the time I graduated college, my mother and I were having one of our casual kitchen table convos (love these) when I observed that I couldn't remember ever having been boy-crazy. It certainly hadn't happened in Jr. High when it was happening to everyone else. And as best as I could tell, at 21, it still hadn't. My mother agreed.
I wasn't sure what to make of it then. I'm not sure what to make of it now. There seemed to be something about the pheromones of 13 year-old boys that drove my 13 year-old girlfriends crazy. There seems to be something about the pheromones of 30 year-old men than drives my 30-somethingish girlfriends crazy. Just not Yours Truly.
There's never been anything particularly interesting to me about men as men. Smart men, yes. Beautiful men, yes. Smart, beautiful, funny men... absolutely. Short of that, my pheromone receptors are in sleep mode.
This manifests in my social life in interesting ways. Most notably, for new people, I'm an almost impossible person to get into a relationship with, and a rather unpleasant person to stay in a relationship with. It's not enough that you're a man... a deep, interested voice on the other end of the line and a warm body in the bed at night. What was the last really interesting thing you said? Have you made me a better person this week? When was the last time I aspired to be more like you in some way?
If I can't readily answer these questions, I tend to develop a rather perceptible air of WhyExactlyAreYouHere-ness. In short, I become a bitch. The irony is that I become that bitch in an effort not to hurt the person's feelings. In my mind, the only alternative is to tell the person the truth: that in the few short months we've known each other I've exhausted the value of their companionship and I feel they have nothing further to offer. Don't call. Don't write. It's a wrap. How do you say that?
I'm told that I should simply say "I don't think we're cut out for each other but we can still be friends," or something like that. Good in theory, but I have this crazy devotion to the truth. And the truth is, we can't be friends. How do you have the "This isn't working" conversation without inviting the "Can we still be cool?" conversation?
Perhaps I over-estimate the percentage of dudes who wanna be friends with chics they break up with (or who break up with them). Or perhaps I just attract 'wanna be friends' type dudes. Either way, I'm 0-fer when it comes to neat, respectable break-ups. What do I do with that?
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LOL. this post wins.
ReplyDeletethat is all.
puffers, wtf? you ain't that frosty. i don't believe you; you need more people. at any rate, this blog sizzles. i've been checking it for a few weeks and your commentary often leaves me beard stroking. but now i have questions: could you live up to the pressure of dating you? would you be able to inspire, thought-provoke (that's right, verb!), and entertain you on a weekly basis? if you couldn't, would you be broke-off when you kicked you to the proverbial curb?
ReplyDeleteQuick sidenote: That name takes me back to a happy place =). Thank you for that.
ReplyDeleteNow to answer your question(s)... I would say Yes. It's not that I bring fireworks to every relationship; it's that I reserve my most intimate connections for relationships where fireworks are being brought. If you're getting more time, more attention and more access than anyone else, you oughta be living up to a higher standard than anyone else.
For example, I was semi-hollerin at a handsome and very intelligent young man who often invited me to dinner. Somehow, he always had the witty conversation and I was always at a loss. Maybe the eye candy was enough for him, but I'm thinking, "Why are you handsome AND bringing the good conversation and I'm just sitting here looking cute?"
I wasn't okay with that. It was a waste of his time to me, even if he didn't think so. I can't be a party to my own lacklusterness. You should go talk to someone else. We (I) stopped semi-hollerin.
And yes, I might be broke off. Can't really call it. With my personality, I'd just as likely think, "Hmmmmmm... He wasn't into my particular brand of flyness. That's cool. To each his own."
But that's just me =).
"I have stopped objecting, for now. I won't say that I have been in love. I won't say that I have craved and wanted and missed and dreamed of. I won't say that I know the feeling, and that it passes. I will never say that I have loved harder than their in loves. Or that I have melted with my beloveds over miles and time zones. I won't say that Love is deeper than love, deeper than sex, and deeper than sympathy. I won't say that I know what I know."
ReplyDeleteaside from being a smoothly written wink (i see you puff), it's also the cogent composition of a woman deeply connected to her own emotions. that sort of person makes good company for semi-hollerin, handsome, intelligent types, even if the convo lulls a little. but i digress.
someone told me that love is the persistence of admiration. she got it from a mystic bottle cap so i didn't take it seriously. but now i find myself reconsidering those words. i should have known better. those drinks were too fruity and delicious to be wrong.
Hmmmmmm... It seems someone has become quite an eloquent writer. How about that.
ReplyDeleteAnd those bottle caps were the best part of a Mystic. Why else would I drink half a liter of sugar?