Undateable

Everyone fucking gets engaged over Christmas. (New year's resolution: Swear less. Chance of success? Highly unlikely.) This year that included my father. And about four other people on my facebook feed, or that I have heard about, have gotten engaged. And I swear to god if they aren't engaged they're having babies.

Now: I have always claimed that I don't want marriage and babies. The babies part I stick by 100%. Kids be not at all my thing. I have never picked up an infant and cooed and been like "Oh wee little baby!" I mostly look at them, think they are funny looking, think about the alien life force growing inside you for 9 months *cringe*, hear them cry and hand them back. "Yeah, you go deal with that. You run someone to soccer practice and pay for some yuppie Montessori school and take vacations at designated times with the rest of the world for the next 18-25 years. Imma be over here with fine jewelry and designer purses and 4 star hotels..." That may be selfish of me, but at least I'm not miserable trying to fit into a mold society kinda expects of me, since I have a uterus and all. (I think my family is aware of this. I am not young and not once have I EVER been asked if I am going to have kids.)

Marriage? Sigh. Marriage. I dunno. I vacillate a lot more on this one. I don't know about the whole "'Til death do us part" thing but having a constant? That'd be nice. So, and pardon the Kanye caps, WHY THE HELL IS THAT SO HARD TO GET?!?



And I'm not even asking for a lot. I'm not moon and stars and undying love and affection girl. I'm a lot more realistic about the whole thing.

As I drunkenly explained to Chuck the other night: I just want someone to sleep with regularly who I can hang out and have a good time with. Not all deep scary emotions and "Wheeerrree isss this going?" I'm the opposite of a stage 5 clinger. In fact, I think most men are so used to the whole "LOLZ bitches be crazy!" thing that when they meet me and I'm NOT crazy, they then freak out because it's not something they are familiar with. Which doesn't make sense. Because the smart, hysterical, independent group of women I surround myself with are all the same way, thus making it typical. Ya know what? "LOLZ de menz be cray-cray!"

In fact, this whole, omg we're gonna die alone thing led to a conversation between Beth and I about it...while she was in Krakow. Beth. In Poland. Discussing why we're gonna die alone. It's an issue. Beth says, "But at least you're making out with Irish guys!" Yeah, but that's all I get. The Irish guy hasn't called. Which is fine, it's not like Irish construction guy tied to the Western edge of the city is my thing anyway (hey! Look at me not wanting that thing I kinda want so I'm not disappointed when I don't get it! [self-awareness is often fucking annoying]). I told Beth that didn't mean I wasn't gonna be alone forever. I was just going to make out with more people on the way to doing it. (I have the added benefit of social lubricant, which Beth does not.) I don't often worry, per se, about the dying alone thing. I'm alright with it mostly. I can always move in with Chuck and Michael and have some wacky 80s sitcom life. Like Golden Girls but a gay guy and a ridiculously straight guy and me. (We're on the lookout for a fourth, everybody!)

But every so often, when it's the holidays, and my toes are cold and I want to put them against someone's back, and it's windy out and I am curled up on the couch watching an old movie a guy in my life wouldn't be the worst thing. (Clarification: guy that I'm sleeping with. I adore Andy of the internet friendship, Chuck of the platonic friendship, and Michael of the gay bff-ness. [who, btw, I left this out, got me THE softest, warmest purple scarf for Christmas, winning the gift giving prize.] But come on, friendship has it's limits and I'm pretty sure cold feet on back is way over that line.)

The whole conversation with Beth left me pondering: WHY THE FUCK AM I UNDATEABLE?

Theory 1: I'm a pain in the ass.

Irish guy, lame pick up line, "So you certainly have a boyfriend." Me: *scoff* Um, no. Irish guy: Why not? Me: Ha! I'm kind of a pain in the ass.

And that be the truth. I don't put up with shit...at least not generally. I'm stubborn. I don't do the girly girl girlishness thing (alright fine, occasionally I do, but it's not typical). That "galvanized heart", as my father termed it, I *think* can be confused with me being a) aloof or b) appearing to not care. It's not necessarily true. I'm just a little more...careful with showing my emotions. I think that's hard for guys to deal with.

I'm not going to speak for all men everywhere but I'm gonna guess that generally speaking maybe they want someone not so stubborn and outspoken and...well...sometimes just an outright difficult control freak? Maybe? Perhaps?

2. The honesty gap.

A blogger I follow wrote the following on her own blog:

• I relaxed after a while, and the mechanic and I did end up having a fun night. It's sort of awful -- the more attracted I am to a guy, the harder I find it to be completely myself. I always hear the clucking of my grandma's tongue in the back of my mind -- she was always sort of appalled at my manners and would say things like "no boy is ever going to take you out if you act like that." So when I meet a good-looking guy, a lot of the time I feel stilted and awkward because I'm afraid to really let loose. But the thing is, I'm actually professionally awesome, so when I do let loose, people seem to enjoy my company. And that was the case with the mechanic -- I was myself, and he was totally digging it.

And it's true! When I'm at a bar, with absolutely nothing to lose, I say some of the most audacious, ridiculous things. I've been known to make people laugh hysterically with how honest I can be, how quick with the take down. I have these scary good observation skills which usually leads me to surprising someone with what I pick up about them. But the second you put me in the vicinity of someone I really like and see potential with (which, while we're being honest, is rare and we mostly accredit to The Boy Idiot...though ten+ years removed from high school throw me around any of those guys and I lose all power of speech, I'm 15 again), I get all nervous and start amending my behavior. I get shy. I get quiet. I lose my ability to be witty. Which is what I want you to be attracted to in the first place! I've sort of discussed this before. I may be careful with emotions, but I'm rarely careful with what I say. And when I am, it's usually when I shouldn't be. Conundrum!

3. The I'm too much like a guy problem.

We've already pointed out the brutal honesty and the lack of overflowing emotions. I also like beer, have an obsession with chicken wings, and am already dreading the end of the college football season for the gap it will leave in my life. I hate to clean. I swear like a sailor. I know the difference between love and sex (maybe a little too well...we'll get to that later).

There's a larger discussion to be had here about gender identity and the roles that men and women play and blah blah blah. But mainly I'm talking about getting someone to appreciate the less girly quirks. And by the way, I'm one helluva a cook. So, an upside. You just have to clean the kitchen when I'm done.

Blogger quoted above wrote on this topic as well. And her conclusion is the same as mine: It's not MY problem, it's your problem with how you perceive me. Which was answered awesomely in this Jezebel article here.

Now, I'm lucky enough to be from California and have interesting and insightful friends who run the gamut of life experiences and sexual identity. So I don't get the "you're just like a dude!" comment, specifically, a lot. You get to have a you are who you are who you are attitude in SF and it's AWESOME. But again, I think it can be off-putting, this beer and football, and desire need for independence, to the kind of manly men I like who is a behbehy and needs to be needed. (Yes, that makes me guilty of the generalization I don't want them to make, but...whatevs.)

The solution to this is of course wait to meet someone who is accepting of all my quirks and peccadillos, and I of his. Have I mentioned that patience isn't one of my virtues?

4. Self esteem. Or: keeping your expectations low.

Sigh. I hate to delve into this particular can of worms. But. Well. Honesty is the name of the game here. This is gonna sound so wishy-washy psych 101 but I am nothing if not self aware. Sigh. Alright: I don't always think I deserve to be wanted. There are prettier, smarter, more together girls out there ALL. THE. TIME. Why anyone would bother to be with me is beyond me. Even knowing that I can be, have moments, where I am pretty ridiculously awesome, it's lurking back there in my brain. So I don't ever expect anything much from a guy because I think I don't really deserve anything much. I've hit on this before, the fact that I need to raise the bar and demand more. But I don't always do it. (And please, for the love of god, I'm not writing this to get "No, but really you ARE so awesome!" comments from everyone. I hate those girls that goad for a compliment. I am NOT like that. I'm more pointing out a flaw in my logical, rational brain.) I'm certainly not low self esteem girl ALL the time, and most people who deal with me regularly, where I at least come across confident would probably be a bit taken aback by this comment. Know that a good measure of it is bluffing.

This is, at base, why I can turn off the filter, meet a guy in a bar, hook up with him, and walk away. Nothing was ever gonna come of it anyway, right? Even if I did want it to, I've now become the girl he hooked up with randomly and am therefore not to be taken seriously, just as it's infinitely harder for me to take a hookup guys seriously, as I would a serious potential mate. The twain do not meet. Even when I've thought fondly of them (and I have wondered what they say about me in retrospect), wondered where it might have gone, I just know, dooming it before it starts, that nothing would ever come of it. It's a fear of rejection thing. A complete and total fear of rejection. Which is why despite having his number, I haven't texted the Irish guy.

5. And here's the part where I get girly.

All assertions for how I am above fail at one major junction: making the move. I have one major rule: no making out in public. This includes inside of bars. I won't do it. I mean, sure, I DID do it, as a ridiculous undergrad. But now? Pshaw. I'm way too klass-ay.

But more than that, I won't make the first move. A guy has to kiss me. A guy has to text/call me. I'm sure, when drunk enough, I can be aggressive. (I dunno. I would both love and never want to see a video of how all this occurs.) But generally speaking? I demur in this area. Which, with all the above information you now possess, and even with what I know about myself, I'm sure can be confusing. It is to me. I know that I always think, "Why didn't he ask for my number?" Usually the answer is: see 4. Then I think, "Why didn't I leave my number?" I never think, "I should have gotten his number." This, I suppose, is the most girly thing I do.

The first time in forever I sort of insisted on a guy taking my number and, ya know, he hasn't called. I imagine it's like the scene in Swingers where Vince Vaughn walks away and tears up the number. Only now instead of save you just hit delete. Yeah. My expectations are low. (Which if you know how great...yet flawed...my father is, it doesn't really make sense. This is not some Electra complex at play...though we could get into how my father loves SO big, it leaves room for you believing it's not true because it's so overblown. But that's a whole 'nother set of issues.)

Anyway, I guess with this massive, in-depth self analyzation, I can sort of see the areas and reasons why I'm undateable...or at the very least having trouble finding my consistent, decent guy.

I'm just not sure what to do about changing all of it...