There’s nothing like reading about desperate people doing the same desperate things that you do to turn you off from doing them! In the Forward to Ian Kerner, Ph.D.’s, self-help book, Be Honest--You’re Not That Into Him Either, a woman (his wife?) named Amy Sohn admits some standard, unflattering female behavior she used to engage in before she wised up and began respecting herself: waiting for the guy to show up, waiting for the guy to call…waiting for the guy to give the woman what she thinks she needs, but might not ever be able to get from him, or any guy, really.
Sohn recounts one night in Brooklyn when she sat at a bar waiting for this guy. She checked her cell phone every few minutes, to see if “somehow, magically, the SILENT RING button had managed to press itself.” It hadn’t, and the guy still doesn’t show up. Sadly, I can relate to such behavior. Looking back now, she comments that “It never occurred to me to leave, not at 9:30 or even at 10:30. All I could think about was that he said he’d come, and I had to wait until he did.”
I remember one time in Chicago. It was cold, March or April maybe. I was sitting in a tiny natural foods café in Old Town (the upper class neighborhood that’s a few blocks east of Cabrini Green). The alcoholic, sexy, rocker guy I’d been obsessing over said he would call me and we would meet up. I sat at the tiny table in the cramped space, my body chilled and tense. I tried to focus on my reading, but every other minute I picked up my outdated, clunky cell phone that everyone ridiculed to see if a call had gone directly to voice mail. It hadn’t. After spending over an hour in there, I called a friend and agreed to go meet him for a drink. But the fact that rocker boy hadn’t called distracted me the rest of the night. In this case, it turned out that he called twice (he emphasized the word “twice”) but he got a message saying all circuits were busy. I had to accept his explanation, as my phone’s signal was often shaky. I shouldn’t have, though, or I should’ve realized that he wasn’t that into me. If he had really wanted to see me, he would have called seven or ten or fifteen times over the next hour or so. Not just twice.
So, my experiences definitely fit in with what Sohn talks about. She says that “the reason pride can be so elusive for women is because it often comes hand in hand with accepting that things weren’t meant to be, and accepting this can be painful, depressing, and lonely. But, the sadness fades” (her emphasis). Again, she speaks the truth. Reading her words did not stir any epiphanies within me, but it’s a good reminder: “the sadness fades.”
Last Saturday at this time (6:30pm), I was fatigued from crying. I had a gurgling, upset stomach. I ended something that lasted only a month, four weekends, eight days, however one wants to describe it. He was my friend. He was my good friend. It had taken time to get close to him, but it happened, and I was happy he was in my life. But he treated me in the way he promised me he wouldn’t; he was insensitive and impatient.
He was seeing someone before me, and he broke up with her to see me, but continued to see her every weekend, as well. I just never felt comfortable with that, but kept squelching that feeling.
Maybe I should have told him right away that it wouldn’t feel like he was focused on dating me if he was still seeing her so quickly. I had no problem with them staying friends, but it seems like he could’ve put some distance between them for a little while. I don’t think she acted well, either. She told me she was okay with me after a long phone conversation wherein I explained my position, apologized, and offered to give her space until she was ready to see or talk to me again. But it doesn’t seem like she was really okay with me, otherwise she probably would’ve stayed clear of him for awhile voluntarily. Ultimately, though, it was up to him to focus on me if he was truly committed to seeing where us dating would lead. But he treated me so poorly! Like some girl whom he’d met two weeks earlier that had been clinging to him, not like a good friend who’s problems and personality he knew well. We might not even be able to be friends, now.
The whole thing sucked, but a week later, I don’t feel any remorse that it’s over. I don’t think it was meant to be. I just wish we could be friends, and that I wasn’t blamed for everything. I don’t know that it’s ever one person’s fault that a relationship doesn’t bloom and stay healthy. Maybe on some rare occasions, but that’s it.
I posted a new online personal, for the hell of it. I really want to meet people through doing various activities, but I might as well seek out all options. I need to be careful, though. I was also reading the new Modern Love collection today (taken from the column of the same name that runs in the Sunday Styles section in the New York Times), and one of the essays made me think about opposites. This woman begins and ends an affair basically via text messages. He was very forward, constantly messaging her and asking if she missed him or if she wanted to have dinner, and if so, when. At the beginning of it all, she thought, “I could already hear my friends citing his enthusiasm as evidence that he was coming on too strong, but I’d had enough of aloof. I found his boldness refreshing.”
I ALWAYS hone in on opposites when I encounter a new man. I think to myself “this guy is so different from the last guy in x, y, and z ways.” I did it today! A man responded to my profile, and his pictures revealed that he is physically very opposite of my last guy, and I immediately became entranced. Since I’d just read this column, though, I was able to check myself. “Okay, yes, that man is different than X, but it doesn’t mean he is better. Don’t excited about someone online before you’ve even talked to him!”
I am hoping I can keep checking myself. Reading about the neurotic dating habits of other people definitely might help.
To be continued…..
Sohn recounts one night in Brooklyn when she sat at a bar waiting for this guy. She checked her cell phone every few minutes, to see if “somehow, magically, the SILENT RING button had managed to press itself.” It hadn’t, and the guy still doesn’t show up. Sadly, I can relate to such behavior. Looking back now, she comments that “It never occurred to me to leave, not at 9:30 or even at 10:30. All I could think about was that he said he’d come, and I had to wait until he did.”
I remember one time in Chicago. It was cold, March or April maybe. I was sitting in a tiny natural foods café in Old Town (the upper class neighborhood that’s a few blocks east of Cabrini Green). The alcoholic, sexy, rocker guy I’d been obsessing over said he would call me and we would meet up. I sat at the tiny table in the cramped space, my body chilled and tense. I tried to focus on my reading, but every other minute I picked up my outdated, clunky cell phone that everyone ridiculed to see if a call had gone directly to voice mail. It hadn’t. After spending over an hour in there, I called a friend and agreed to go meet him for a drink. But the fact that rocker boy hadn’t called distracted me the rest of the night. In this case, it turned out that he called twice (he emphasized the word “twice”) but he got a message saying all circuits were busy. I had to accept his explanation, as my phone’s signal was often shaky. I shouldn’t have, though, or I should’ve realized that he wasn’t that into me. If he had really wanted to see me, he would have called seven or ten or fifteen times over the next hour or so. Not just twice.
So, my experiences definitely fit in with what Sohn talks about. She says that “the reason pride can be so elusive for women is because it often comes hand in hand with accepting that things weren’t meant to be, and accepting this can be painful, depressing, and lonely. But, the sadness fades” (her emphasis). Again, she speaks the truth. Reading her words did not stir any epiphanies within me, but it’s a good reminder: “the sadness fades.”
Last Saturday at this time (6:30pm), I was fatigued from crying. I had a gurgling, upset stomach. I ended something that lasted only a month, four weekends, eight days, however one wants to describe it. He was my friend. He was my good friend. It had taken time to get close to him, but it happened, and I was happy he was in my life. But he treated me in the way he promised me he wouldn’t; he was insensitive and impatient.
He was seeing someone before me, and he broke up with her to see me, but continued to see her every weekend, as well. I just never felt comfortable with that, but kept squelching that feeling.
Maybe I should have told him right away that it wouldn’t feel like he was focused on dating me if he was still seeing her so quickly. I had no problem with them staying friends, but it seems like he could’ve put some distance between them for a little while. I don’t think she acted well, either. She told me she was okay with me after a long phone conversation wherein I explained my position, apologized, and offered to give her space until she was ready to see or talk to me again. But it doesn’t seem like she was really okay with me, otherwise she probably would’ve stayed clear of him for awhile voluntarily. Ultimately, though, it was up to him to focus on me if he was truly committed to seeing where us dating would lead. But he treated me so poorly! Like some girl whom he’d met two weeks earlier that had been clinging to him, not like a good friend who’s problems and personality he knew well. We might not even be able to be friends, now.
The whole thing sucked, but a week later, I don’t feel any remorse that it’s over. I don’t think it was meant to be. I just wish we could be friends, and that I wasn’t blamed for everything. I don’t know that it’s ever one person’s fault that a relationship doesn’t bloom and stay healthy. Maybe on some rare occasions, but that’s it.
I posted a new online personal, for the hell of it. I really want to meet people through doing various activities, but I might as well seek out all options. I need to be careful, though. I was also reading the new Modern Love collection today (taken from the column of the same name that runs in the Sunday Styles section in the New York Times), and one of the essays made me think about opposites. This woman begins and ends an affair basically via text messages. He was very forward, constantly messaging her and asking if she missed him or if she wanted to have dinner, and if so, when. At the beginning of it all, she thought, “I could already hear my friends citing his enthusiasm as evidence that he was coming on too strong, but I’d had enough of aloof. I found his boldness refreshing.”
I ALWAYS hone in on opposites when I encounter a new man. I think to myself “this guy is so different from the last guy in x, y, and z ways.” I did it today! A man responded to my profile, and his pictures revealed that he is physically very opposite of my last guy, and I immediately became entranced. Since I’d just read this column, though, I was able to check myself. “Okay, yes, that man is different than X, but it doesn’t mean he is better. Don’t excited about someone online before you’ve even talked to him!”
I am hoping I can keep checking myself. Reading about the neurotic dating habits of other people definitely might help.
To be continued…..
posted by Jen Threat at
5:00 PM
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