So. I remain unshattered.
Not that I expect to be, but that’s the fucking bar. So good luck, men of the world (read: New England?). I’ve had some great ones, so to “shatter me” would take some serious shit.
Date #2 (and 2.5) occurred over the last week, and I’m not even interested in writing about them because this whole dating thing is just dumb. What I *should* do is find someone fuckable and fuck him. Whenever I want to. Instead, I live in this weird-ass limbo place where I pretend like that’s what I’m doing, but I’m really looking for someone to hang out with who will also let me live my life the way I want to. I am legitimately the only person in the fucking universe who is looking for that. And it’s true, I don’t believe that, but I also don’t believe I’m going to find one of the other few that are also in my boat attractive. Or I think maybe I adopted this newfound mentality too goddamn late for the perfect possible “relationship.”
Fine, then, here’s the short story:
Date #2 was with a person I have pseudo-known for a year. It wasn’t until we went on a “date” that I turned into a not-date by going dutch at bill time that I realized I wasn’t down for the Drama (with a capital D). Once again, I’m not in the interest of spilling other dude’s deals into some silly blog, so I can’t say much more than that. What I can say is that I’m a therapist, and I probably have a radar for red flags, especially when they pertain to things I’ve dealt with in my professional career. I had also just watched “Better Things,” in particular the episode where Sam sees the couple that she pegged for being on their first date and intervened because she knew the guy’s life story but didn’t know a damn thing about the girl. Yeah. That’s this. I’m a great listener. But I get super bitter when the person I’m listening to isn’t ALSO a great listener.
Anyway, I heard a lot of shit that I remember half of because that’s the level of investment I have here. What I enjoyed most was going to The Pint after dinner and running into a co-worker and talking very meta about someone I’m apparently only FB friends with (but not necessarily friends with IRL because I said nothing when I realized he was one of the bartenders), and then getting asked to help someone with a stalled car and actually helping. My “date” was worried about it being a scam to get jumped and in that moment I realized what category of Worcesterite he belonged in. And I dare someone to defy my 2 categories. You’re high or you’re low and there’s no fucking middle. Well, guess what–I live in the middle of goddamn everything, so this just maybe isn’t the place for me. …but I wish it was. I really, really wish it was.
As for date #2.5 I stupidly told Kaðall Seahorse (of COURSE I made him a Viking Name!) where I would be and I’m pretty sure he showed up and waited around for me. He followed me around like a puppy dog and tried to convince me to forego work in favor of hanging out. Sorry, dude, strike 2. Work will ALWAYS win.
How do you tell someone you don’t want their Drama and maybe it’s best if they work that shit out and get back to you later?