ranting the dating dilemma

Ranting the Dating Dilemma

My new roommate arrives from Manhattan tomorrow.

I am happy to have someone new and cool (she’s friends with E. (the boy next door) who moved to Manhattan last year).. They’ve been working at Birdland together.

I am having a quiet evening alone at home. I am so lazy that it is nearly midnight and I haven’t had dinner yet. I’ve had a bit of chocolate and a glass of red wine. I practiced “Big My Secret” by Michael Nyman… until the wine finally hit me. Nyman writes tragically beautifully for the soundtrack of the the movie “The Piano”. Unfortunately, I became tragically too tired to concentrate and began playing less right notes distracted by hunger yet without a clue about what I’m hungry for.

I finally decided to write as I contemplate what to have for dinner.

Last Friday, I managed to depress myself thoroughly after talking to M. about dating dilemmas and living in Los Angeles. Maybe I was having “the grass is always greener” notions, thinking Boston is a better place to meet people…

Maybe I am just missing my mathematician who’s been so busy at school. He’s still my number ONE crush having no real competition. I don’t know if it’s because I’ve been struck by cupid’s arrow or there is truly a lack of good prospects to create a worthy rival. But then, before him, no one has caught my attention since 6th grade.

M. told me that I am lucky being a girl… “girls always get opportunities”… boys deal with “more rejection.” I had to beg to differ. There are many of the male species that will pursue anyone of the female persuasion. And with the dramatic stories I catch wind of during daily life, it doesn’t matter what crazy stuff she’s up to or how she looks.. as long as she has a pulse. How do you discern love from arbitrary chasing for a shag?

Is the fellow prospecting for love when the main conversation centers around their surprise that they’ve found a single girl? What does it mean when all they can say is “God, you are so beautiful.” And some start talking about what they are looking for in a wife and then I realize that I’m getting interviewed for the role when I’m just trying to figure out if they would be fun to hang out with. Some start dumping right away the worries of their life and revealing their failures.

Is the fellow prospecting for love or a therapist? It baffles me when someone can figure that they are so fond with me when they haven’t seen my writing, heard me play the piano, dance or sing or find out what my interests are; my likes and my dislikes…. We talked only about their career, their failures and trials… and how I’ve magically appeared to them like an oasis in the gray that is their life.

“What is your dream?”

“To find love… to find a girl just like you.”

“No really, you must have a dream… what is the most important goal for you to reach?”

“Love is the most important thing and all I want to do is find out how to make you happy.”

“What ELSE is important to you beside me? Something important to ONLY you.”

“There is nothing more important than love… What kind of girl are you? What’s wrong with you?

Arrgghh… and THIS is called an opportunity for love?

The mathematician has woven himself into my life because not only has he heard me play, read some of my work, but he’s also shared his dreams with me, given me a role to be his friend and an encouragement, as well as read and loved a few of my favorite books, fiddled with my computer to helped me be more efficient in my work and has had enough interest to know of my friends if not personally then by name at least. He pays attention to my stories … he pays attention to my life and is one of the few people that’s interested in me that knows my likes and dislikes. And he’s the most positive person I know…even when he is frustrated!

I wish more guys were like that. Dating would be much more fun.

As for some of the other suitors….

The evening usually turns into a comic Pepe Le Pew scuffle with me announcing the end of the evening. The “attraction” is really not personal… when the calculating is so obvious. They are not present to me and I’m going through a script of how they date to find what they are looking for. I just happen to look a certain way and I like to be nice and easy-going up to a reasonable point without compromising who I am. There is little spontaneity, silliness or fun… I become present to their fear, their fumbling, their fishing. And then I become sad… because the friendship that I am trying to create for the evening is just a ghost of one as I find myself speaking to deaf ears as they nod and smile and have another go at pulling me closer to them. And then I get chided for being unromantic.

What I learn from these Pepe Le Pew experiences is that if I’m to be myself, it would be when I’m finally alone with myself again. I don’t enjoy an evening of sexual bullying. Prefering my solitude over playing cat and mouse is a saner existence.

Funny, my mathematician is the only one that doesn’t feel like he’s making calculations when we’re together.



~ by jnetsworld on October 21, 2005.


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