Dating and Doubting

Posted on November 18, 2010

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To recap, Lieu broke up with me, but subsequently received some bad news that caused me to suspend my plan to not see him again as long as he is refusing to put out.  Since then, we’ve been talking almost every day and seeing each other once a week or so.  Suddenly, he is all about reaching out, and following up, and making plans, all things that were sorely lacking in our prior romantic relationship, such as it was.

Last week, he came over for dinner at my local bar and an evening of bad television (he doesn’t have a TV so it’s kind of a treat for him.)  It turns out–surprise!–that it’s really hard for me to be around him under this new schema.  I’m glad that he trusts me and respects me and values my presence in his life.  But you know what?  Lots of people do.  I have that in spades.  I don’t want to be “friends”, and it makes me angry with myself that I have (yet again) accepted his terms for our relationship when they are not the ones I want.

But then.  I was sitting at our table watching him come back from the restroom, and it washed over me with startling clarity: I love this kid.  In my eyes, he all but glows.  Being near him gives me a feeling of happiness and well-being that has to be chemical; he puts off some pheremone that I just can’t resist.  Cutting myself off from that is so hard, even though it’s something I know I need to do.  The thing is, I just don’t open myself up to those feelings very often.  I don’t have enough practice, and I didn’t protect myself properly.  I don’t know how to turn it off.

 

A few days after I saw Lieu, I had a date with the Hockey Guy.  To recap, HG is smart, interesting, funny, and gregarious, not to mention smoking fucking hot.  He’s so tall, and he has one of those bodies that tapers down beautifully from broad shoulders to trim hips.  He is courteous, and follows through, and remembers things I mentioned months ago.  He reads, and he loves his mother, and he wants kids.  He doesn’t want to date me, but he does like hanging out and is basically looking for a very casual and loosely defined thing.  He could be perfect for that; I enjoy him, I admire him, and I like him, but I don’t like him.  He could be a wonderful distraction, and who knows what might happen down the road?

But I just can’t do it.  I called our date to an unfortunately timed and screeching halt.  I never do that.  Indeed, I pride myself on my follow-through.  After my long, unfortunate bout of celibacy, I swore I would never go without again, but it looks like I swore too soon.  Without some feelings to back up the dance, it’s just not worth dancing right now.  It seems my libido has become entwined inextricably with my treacherous, stubborn heart.  I hate being such a girl about things.

And I really, really miss sex.

 

 

So.  I placed a new ad on Craigslist, and urged myself to get back out there!  Try again!  Plenty of fish in the sea!  (I know people recoil at the mention of CL, but I have met some great people there, including Lieu. The only other site I can stomach at the moment is OKCupid, and I am not getting ANY action over there.  NONE.)  (Plus the title of my ad is “Lottery winner seeks full-time gigolo for Scrabble matches”.  See how saucy yet intellectual I am?  Who could resist opening that?)

I’ve gotten a bunch of responses.  About ten of them seemed promising…literate, funny, evidence of good reading comprehension.  As of this writing six of them–SIX–have admitted, under questioning, that they are married and looking for something on the side.  Seriously, men of DC?  Why the callow, disgusting, cowardly bullshit?  Why put everyone through that?  Why risk it, seriously?

Despite some sarcastic pronouncements I make from time to time, and periodic disenchantment with the pitfalls of dating, I really have remained optimistic that there are good people out there, and that one of them is for me.  I’m very straightforward, and open, and realistic about who I’m looking for.  I go into each date and encounter optimistically and with an open mind.  As long as you are single, not currently in prison, and no more than two inches shorter than me, I have no automatic dealbreakers.  But even within those very loose parameters, the pickings are slim, slim, slim.  As I’ve said before, either there is something terribly wrong with the DC dating pool–which seems unlikely, statistically speaking–or there is something terribly wrong with me.  Whichever it is, it’s getting me down.

I just want someone to hold hands with, and loll around in bed with, and try to build a good life with.  Who knew that was such an incredibly tall order?

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