Being Brave on a Sunday

Underneath my cynic sheep clothing, an incurable romantic. I believe in love, I believe that completes you, I believe it offers you a new perspective on yourself. I believe.

Saturday, May 17, 2008

Getting Out There

It was a bad date. And for the first time, possibly ever, it was me. Not that I'm some dating wizard, this we know, but I'm pretty good at early conversation, small talk and making general chit chat. But this was different, something didn't gell and it was all my fault. I tried too hard, or not enough, I'm not sure. I will call him iBoy, and iBoy and I don't know each other - at all. Guess where we met? Yep, RSVP. And he was actually the first person, I've ever seen on that site that I've thought this might have potential. And the potential carried through emails, and phone calls. There was chat, there was a jokey banter to it. It seemed to work. He suggested a drink, I answered yes. I was nervous yet not. I told no one. I had stupid daydreams of possible further dates. I thought forward. The date itself: well, the conversation moved, but not flowed. And it was my fault, and what's terrible is I knew it, very quickly. And in the same way that someone can point out your speedy typing and then watch as you stumble over words, as soon as I realised there was problem, it magnified. Moment of shame 1: After his returning from the bathroom, I pointed to his iPod and said I'd been tempted to check out his music selection. His answer was that it was quite varied. What I would have said 'yeah, mine too. I have such eclectic tastes in music, it's amazing how much it can change you mood in one simple song etc' what actually came out was 'Music is good' ...........................{insert sounds of crickets chirping}............
'Yeah' was his reply. Like I was a spastic child out for the evening. The other startling event was, in my mind I swore the whole time, ala Gordon Ramsey. If I were to reenact the scene, every second word from my mouth would be F*** this and C bomb that. And of course, I didn't do that. But as time passed, and no word from iBoy came, my swearing became increased and my mental age lowered. Two weeks later I believe the date involved him and swearing mentally retarted 10 year old.
What's annoying (not sad, make note of that) is that I think we would have clicked. There were common interests, he was the right kind of smart and the right kind of pop culture aware. The slightly black humour was there and in the basics department, he was my kind of nerdy geeky tall boy cute. And the tough part is moving forward now. Not because I've embroidered my bedspread in our initials, but where do I go from here? Because I've now jinxed myself. I am now a bad first date, the mojo isn't there. And unfortunately I have to first date. There's no friend, who I've gotten past the unknown stage with already, ready to declare their interest. I now have to add to the lengthing list of faults, bad first dater!

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The other thing is more difficult and I have no idea how to address it. How are you sure of your feelings for some one? I don't want to start drama but sometimes there are thoughts of something, with someone. And often I wonder is this because I am past that iBoy stage of weirdness and I'm just projecting a loneliness or a need or a sudden want. I have no idea. Would I turn away if he kissed me? Quite probably. Would I want him to kiss? Quite probably. Does he even register me in this way? Most definitely not. Am I romanticising something because there's not else? Quite probably. All I can say for sure, is the thought it is there.