The Dateable Dork

Note to self: I am a smart woman.  Not only that, but I am an extremely independent, well-educated, well-spoken, aware, mature, grounded, respected adult in a highly technical niche profession.  I am capable and competent, I was fortunate enough to be brought up in a good, stable family who was willing and able to support me through many years of school, and god damn it, I think my life is in pretty good shape.  Why is it, then, that I let dating transform me from a kick-ass, smart woman into a whimpering, brainless, depressed little girl?  Why is it that I sit at my desk waiting for my cell phone to ring instead of getting my shit done and moving on to the next project?  Why is it that I’ll fore-go reading the news online and opt to waste my time making up excuses for guys, over-analyzing, whining, venting, and making a mental list of everything that could possibly be wrong with me?  This is fucking ridiculous!

Holly Hoffman wrote a great post a few months ago entitled “News Flash: Sex is a Distraction.”  Go check it out if you haven’t already.  She makes a lot of great points, the biggest of which (in my opinion) is that dating and the pursuit of sex can engulf your entire life, leaving the other components of your life to wither away out of neglect.  To add to that, I think dating/sex has not only left my interests and career on the back burner, but it has been killing my brain cells, one by one, one bad date and one missed phone call at a time.  I’m turning into a useless shell of a person, and I can’t fucking stand it anymore!

First of all, I want to get one thing out of the way: I need to trust my gut feelings, no matter what.  I’m getting better at it, but there is still that idiotic teenage-girl part of me that wants to hold on, make excuses, put on the blinders, and ignore all the neon signs flashing right in front of my eyes.  As I’ve mentioned in previous posts, I’m a big fan of the book “He’s Just Not That Into You” by Greg Behrendt and Liz Tuccillo.  It’s hilarious and light-hearted, but more importantly, it slaps you in the face with common-sense relationship advice that you already know but have conveniently been ignoring.  Allow me to pull out a few quotes to remind myself of what an idiot I can be and how simple dating really is, when you get right down to it:

We like taking a break from our generally mundane day to talk to someone we like.  It makes us happy.  And we like to be happy.  Just like you.  If I were into you, you would be the bright spot in my horribly busy day.  Which would be a day that I would never be too busy to call you.

DUH.  Of course!  It’s so simple.  DD, are you listening?  This is important.  Another one:

When I was working with Greg on this book in New York, I noticed that Greg would often call his wife just to tell her that he couldn’t really talk to her right then, but he was thinking of her and would call later.  It didn’t look like the most difficult thing in the world, but it sure seemed nice.

Hello?  People who give a shit will find 2 minutes to call.  It doesn’t take a genius to figure this shit out.  And finally:

100% of men polled said they’ve never been too busy to call a woman they were really into.  As one fine man said, “A man has got to have his priorities.”

Enough said.  DD, if it takes a relationship book to put this stuff in black and white in order for you to figure this out, something has gone horribly wrong.  I’ve turned into an idiot!  Really, it’s unbelievable.  I did NOT spend all those years buried in a university library to fail so miserably at common sense.  I need to climb out of this hole and get back to my normal, productive life as a decent human being and industrious member of society. 

Case in point: Remember “the incident” from last fall?  Here are some numbers to put things into perspective: We “dated” for six weeks.  It took one day for the entire thing to explode in my face.  I spent FOUR MONTHS being completely depressed, holed up in my apartment, hating myself. 

Another one: Hot Marine and I went on five dates over the course of about three weeks.  He stopped returning my calls over a weekend (say three days at most).  I spent two months being horribly depressed, getting drunk alone in my apartment every night, and yes, hating myself.  I spent another few months crawling out of the hole and back to my normal life.  It was about a year and a half before I was finally “mostly” over it.

One more: Mr. Perfect and I went on probably 8-10 dates over the course of maybe about six weeks.  We lived about 15 minutes apart.  Despite numerous attempts on my part, I didn’t see him for two whole weeks.  Over the course of those two weeks, I made up every excuse I could think of and was STILL convinced that he liked me.  He stopped returning my calls over a weekend, and then I found out he had gotten back with his ex during the initial six weeks we had been seeing each other.

What the hell is wrong with me that I allow myself to be completely consumed by this bullshit?  I know I’m smarter than this.  I know my brain cells were functional at one point in my life, and I don’t know how I got myself into this situation.  Today I spent the entire day staring at my cell phone, waiting for Chicago Boy to return my text from last night.  I had my phone right next to my keyboard on my desk ALL DAY.  I slept with my phone on my nightstand last night.  I took the phone into the kitchen while making dinner, and yes, even into the bathroom.  ONLY CRAZY PEOPLE DO THIS.  There is seriously something wrong with me.

The saddest part about all this is that the rest of my life is withering away.  My hobbies and interests have atrophied.  My career is coasting along.  I haven’t been returning phone calls from “successful” (read: married) friends because I can’t bear to hear how happy they are.  This is NOT RIGHT.  This is NOT ME.  I hate it!  I really need to stop all this bullshit and get back to my normal self, my productive, happy, interesting self.  Also, I need to start thinking like a 29-year-old woman, not a 15-year-old girl.  If my gut is telling me that it’s over, chances are, IT’S OVER.  No more making excuses, no more holding on, no more putting on the blinders and shutting out reality.  I’m better than this, and it’s about time I sacked up and started acting like an adult.

This is a public confession.  Feel free to hold me to it.

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Because I am a total dork, I whipped up the following relationship timeline:

And here’s the  narration: regular letters (A) are me, prime letters (A’) are every random guy I meet:

A: Oooooh, I seem to have met a nice guy.  Awesome!
A’: Hmm, I met a cute chick who might actually sleep with me.

B: I went on a few dates with this guy and have deemed him quality husband material.  Yay!
B’: Yeah, I really think this chick might sleep with me!  Awesome!

C: What a great guy – he cuddles with me after sex.  Still husband material.
C’: BOOBIES!!!!!!!!!!!!!

D: This sex glow is so great.  I heart dating.  I heart relationships.  I wonder if my parents will like him…
D’: Look, this other chick has even BIGGER boobies than DD… hey baby, how you doin’?

E: Maybe he’s really busy with work.  Maybe he lost his cell phone.  Maybe his phone ate my messages.  Maybe he’s in the hospital.  What did I say?  What did I do?  Why isn’t he calling me???????

F: Reality hits.  I have been ditched, again.

G: What a jerk.  But he was so cute and so nice and so cuddly….

H: My affection slowly dies a slow and painful death as I drink my way into a coma.

I: I finally get over it, many, MANY months later.

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I think I hit point F tonight, and I think Chicago Boy hit point D’ Saturday afternoon after our little sleepover.

WHATEVER!  I’m done with this bullshit.  I’m a smart woman who knows better than to fall into this same stupid cycle every single time.  Right?  RIGHT???  I really need to remember that.