Holding My Cards (in the Dating Game)

Blogging is cathartic.  Therapeutic for me, because it’s a place to organize thoughts, feelings and ideas.  Hopefully it’s amusing or informative on some level for you.  Last week, when I described my recent bout of emotional hiccups with a gal-pal, it seemed to strike a close-yet-clandestine chord, across my web of virtual relations.  Clearly, some of us enjoy reading about topics that many people are  more hesitant to discuss.

There are lots of reasons why society may frown upon us.  In many cases, public shaming equals unregulated enforcement of cultural norms and rules.  Don’t steal.  Wear a helmet.  Vote.  At least a few of these regulations make sense.

Others, I’m not so sure about.  For example, where does one begin – or end – in self-censorship?  Is it taboo to talk about lame dates on the internet?  Because that’s the topic that keeps bubbling up this week.  Heck, I broke one rule last time… let’s go for a streak!

I’ve had plenty of dating disasters.  In the last couple months, I’ve found myself wrapped up in a number of them.  One guy, who I’ve thought was a babe for YEARS, noticed my existence at a NYE party when he finally, for some reason, seemed eager to get together.  What a pleasant surprise!

He invited me and a couple of my favorite gal-pals over for a “spa-party” the following weekend.  We arrived just after 8pm, to discover his entire living room, full of women, seated around a long table.  For refreshment, the ladies were offered cool glasses of water, flavored with thin slices of cucumber.  Classy.

The presentation featured a fast-talking man, representing a company that I shall not name.  They specialize in anti-aging products.  It didn’t take five minutes for the sinking feeling to set in.

“Oh boy,” I thought to myself (with about as much excitement as one gets over a hang-nail), “a pyramid scheme.”

I apologized to my gal-pals for dragging them all the way to Lake Oswego for such a thing.  In the following weeks, the guy continued to pursue me.  He would text, call, or hit me up on Facebook.  We even met for drinks a time or two…  But it turned out, the only thing he was interested in was expanding his multi-level-marketing base.  Talk about a turn-off!  Soon I stopped seeing him as a handsome stallion, and instead began to feel sorry for him.  Pity the fool who invests himself so deeply into a scam that they must lure their friends (and anyone else who will listen) in too.

Next, I received a message (a la Facebook) that a certain local celebrity wanted to be my friend.  Isn’t that sweet?  I’d seen him before.  In fact, I’d checked him out!  For an older guy, he was attractive.  And he seemed to have a good story.  I wanted to know more.

We wrote back and forth for a couple weeks, while he was spending time away.  I enjoyed flirting with someone who had some intellectual steam.  I looked forward to meeting him, upon his return to Portland.

Hold that thought.

Before we get onto the slippery slope, where detailed descriptions can become complaining, please understand that I have more good times than most.  My calendar is full of valuable time, spent with important people, lots of them, who each bring joy in different ways.  With 7 billion people in the world, I feel, that although the risk of losing someone over something that I say here is real, it pales in comparison to an untapped potential of relationships that I have yet to establish.  When we are occupied by someone (in part or in whole) that tends to take away from the progress that we are trying to achieve, this is a problem.

This idea came to mind earlier today, when a friend told me about his relationship with his soon-to-be-but-maybe-not-ex-wife.  He explained, his wife has decided she wants to salvage the marriage.  The catch is, she’s an alcoholic.  And he’s sober.

I’m not sure if I was able to illustrate the point I was trying to make, but the way I see it, we must decide what elements we surround ourselves with.  A domestic partnership, in particular (but truly, any healthy relationship) should be built between people who have similar/positive life trajectories.  It’s not always easy to figure out.  Sometimes it’s hard to admit that we can see when someone is going along a dark path.  It’s painful to pull back from people we care about, who seem to be helplessly slipping away.  Granted, there are circumstances when cutting off a relationship is the wrong thing to do.  I am not the person to decide for you.

The fact is, we absorb each other.  Our friends rub off on us in lots of ways, yet it often fails to appear on our inner radar of social awareness.  Frankly?  I’d rather do nothing at home, than let certain people have a chance to subconsciously infect me with their negative habits, opinions and traits.

Whew!

Where was I?  Ah yes, the Dating Game.  Perhaps it’s unseemly to discuss the unfortunate details of these incidents, especially to the men involved.  Call it a hunch; I’m not exactly expecting to hear from ‘em again.  (Except for the pyramid scheme guy – he still wants a chance to pitch his “business plan” to another one of my friends.)

Anyway, weeks passed while he was away, but my little crush remained.   Turns out, I probably looked forward to the date too much.  It became a situation, overloaded with expectation, doomed to be a disappointment.  Yes, I did suspect this might happen.  No, I didn’t prevent it, despite.

We chose a nice spot, St. Jack on 21st & Clinton in SE Portland.  I’d been to their one-year anniversary party, which had the place jam-packed with patrons, making rounders along a silver counter, piled high with the finest edibles.  It was quite fancy.  And delicious.

He got there early.  When I arrived, I found him at that same counter.  He wore a soft argyle sweater, looking downright huggable.  I could see why he’s known as such a handsome guy… those blonde curls, great smile.  So cute!

I’m not sure what his impression was, and several times I felt words come out that, I feared, didn’t come across the way I had intended.  Lots of times I found myself with nervous stutters, even blushing.  But those are common parts of a first date… right?  The conversation would flow, then ebb.  Then flow again.

After the meal, we each had a glass of wine.  About 60 minutes into the date though, he said, soon he’d have to go.  He threw back the last of his glass and sat for a few minutes while I sipped on mine.  I remember being in the middle of a thought when the time came…

“Are you going to drink that?”  He asked, with a nod to the last bit of wine in my glass.

“You want me to chug it?”  I said, with a laugh.  ”You go for it.”

He took a gulp, helping me finish.  When the check arrived, I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do.  (Yet another form of social order that I don’t have a knack for.)  So I offered to pay for half.  And he didn’t stop me.

“Must be a feminist,” I thought to myself, never failing to find a positive spin.  Lets hear it for gender equality!

We stepped outside.  He didn’t say he wanted to see me again.  Actually, the thump on the back he gave me said more than enough.  I sort of figured I wouldn’t be hearing from him.  But that didn’t stop me from sending a gracious message.  I told him that I enjoyed the dinner, thanked him for reminding me about a great local resource in video production, and asked him to let me know if he wanted to do it again sometime.

Guess what?  He didn’t respond.

The sad part of this story, is how crappy I felt for a day or so afterwards.  The let-down (from over-hyped expectations) with a simultaneous, slightly insulting outcome, is toxic!  I didn’t feel better until I’d gotten a solid two hours of exercise.  From now on I’ll prepare for dates by reducing my expectations.  For recovery?  You can find me working out.  And, if necessary, I’ll be working it out, in writing, right here.