Last week was one of the shittier weeks I've had this year. In spite of the insomnia, I had one of the most productive weeks I've ever had at work. Additionally, I might be approaching a peak in physical condition I haven't seen since college sports. But, it was hard to enjoy these things when I could barely keep my head up, and when my exhaustion gave me this filmy pessimism that encroached on everything.
Then I had these three dates. For two of them, I felt tentative and lukewarm about even showing up. One was a girl I dated for a short time, and the other was a labmate from my undergraduate days who had just moved into town. For both, the conversation was fun, there was a lot of laughter, a little touching, the intimation that more time together would be welcome.
I left feeling lukewarm and tentative about ever showing up again.
The third date, with Wendy, was an unmitigated disaster. Of the the three, this was the only one where I thought it could turn into something, maybe. Wendy did not like me, to the point where, after I spent a few minutes with her, I was surprised she had even agreed to come out. Every conversational attempt I made was met with a passivity bordering on hostility. Eventually, I said "fuck it, not worth it" to myself and went home. These things happen. There are whole songs about this cliche, where no one I like is into me, and vice versa.
But, I was left doubting my ability to read people. How could I have possibly thought this woman was interested in me? What makes me think I'm into these people who I don't connect with? Could I think about any specific trait Wendy had that I was particularly drawn to? Then I remembered the infrequency with which I meet people I feel really attracted (beyond physically) too, and the number of times I've gotten myself into trouble from trying to force the issue. So, I figured I'd quit the dating, or at least cool it, for a while. I don't need to be throwing myself at people who aren't worth the time. I've got better things to do, like trying to get seven hours of sleep in a night.
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6 comments:
Dating always starts to seem like a futile exercise at some point for me, too, until someone pops up that piques my interest.
Also, I would ask if maybe your impression of at least the first 2 dates was also colored by your insomnia (screw the Wendy chick- people who can't hold up an end of a conversation aren't ever worth talking to again in my book).
I'm coming around on your first point. On the second, every thing gets colored by insomnia. I'm guessing I was feeling more like going home and brooding/trying to sleep, than I felt like socializing with people I already felt a little ambivalent about.
Thankfully, I'm sleeping again. so I can feel better about giving time to social interactions without worrying too much about where they're going.
Oh, believe me, I understand how insomnia colors one's perceptions.
I mean, dating is sort of like job interviewing, in that it takes some practice to be any good at it, but, at some point, you stop practicing either one for its own sake.
Well, there's a part of me that's optimistic, and wants to give every conversation its stab at greatness. Then there's that superior/arrogant part that knows I'm not going to be too impressed with a lot of people out there. (This may be a defense mechanism)
Plus, I'm really too goal oriented for "practice dating."
Well, if you substitute "too compatible" for "too impressed," it's both less superior/arrogant and doesn't sound at all defensive. I mean, stupid people have their place in the world, too (and, God knows, some men prefer to marry those types). It's just not what you're looking for.
Well, though, what's the goal?
Oh, the goals are too many to enumerate. I guess I have an overriding goal of using my time well. You know, work well so I can have a little time to play and feel good about it. Don't feel like the things I do for play are a waste of time.
Which leads to, in dating, be with someone who intrigues me, who I can see sticking around with, who doesn't push me too hard to make excessive sacrifices, but for whom I am ready to make some significant sacrifices, who tolerates my quirks and on and on. . .
And finally, get six to seven hours of sleep.
God suggestion on language. I think that's how I usually feel, but then sometimes my misanthropy kicks in.
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