Friday, August 6, 2010

96. Boo-dom vs. Boredom

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?

3 comments:

  1. LOL. this post wins.

    that is all.

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  2. Quick sidenote: That name takes me back to a happy place =). Thank you for that.

    Now 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 =).

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  3. Hmmmmmm... It seems someone has become quite an eloquent writer. How about that.

    And those bottle caps were the best part of a Mystic. Why else would I drink half a liter of sugar?

    ReplyDelete