Seriously, this is the song stuck in my head right now. Takes me back to skater boys and JNCOs and flannel shirts and COMPLICATED SHIT.
I’ve always been something of a tomboy… I played a lot of sports growing up and when I was little, I would run around the neighborhood with my brother who was not even two years older than me. I think, deep down, there’s a girly girl in here but even deeper than that, there’s a lazy girl in here. Putting on makeup every day? Seriously? I’m supposed to do that? Fuck that noise.
Once I discovered my tits — I guess probably ninth or tenth grade — some of my most special friendships were with guys. I used to get in a lot of trouble at church because I would rather go and play a pickup soccer or basketball game with the boys than go over to somebody’s house and watch Dawson’s Creek with all the girls. I think I understood boys a little bit more than I understood girls and, more importantly, I think hanging out with guys was easier for me, appealing to the lazy girl inside me.
The downside to this, of course, was that I would be all sixteen and in love with some boy and we’d spend time together and hang out and I’d be drawing hearts around our initials in my binder during science class and he’d be over there, drooling over the cheerleader with the makeup and the shorty shorts… The one that wasn’t paying him any attention.
It’s true — you want what you can’t have. And once you pony yourself up there to give yourself away, it’s like you’re a car driving off the lot — you depreciate in desirability value by something like $8000 or some shit.
Oh, the Giant. I just want to snuggle his face. He’s confused and I get it… I like him, probably a lot more than I’m letting myself believe. I mean, you guys can probably tell because I’m apparently all transparent so you’re probably sitting there like, “Doye, stupid bitch. You like him.” So, okay. Yes. I do.
I went over there on Saturday night when he got off work. As you’ll recall, I gave him the kiss of death and he’s been like… really fucking sick. We had originally made plans for him to come down to see me on Saturday when he got off work and there was this festival at the Oakland Cemetery that we were going to go to and it was going to be a full day of walking around and sight seeing and whatnot. I offered up to him that, if he wasn’t feeling top notch, that I could just come see him and we’d take it easy. He resisted a bit, really wanting to go to the festival, but we decided it would be better for him to take it easy.
And then… I met his parents. I mean, it wasn’t a big deal. He lives in the basement at his parent’s house and his parents were coming back from somewhere while he and I were getting ready to go have brunch on Sunday morning. It was just a quick little pop-their-heads-in-and-say-hi thing, but it was still like… “Oh… Damn. Met the parents.”
That puts a decidedly relationshipy feel to things for me. Which… isn’t a bad thing if both people want a relationship, but I know he’s not ready for anything serious. He’s wanting to spread his wings and date — he’s never really done much dating, just a lot of relationships. And I TOTALLY get that. I relate to it in a lot of ways — when I broke up with the Sociopath in August of 2008, I was a dating machine. I had a few little one to two month long “relationships” but the bulk of my energy was thrown at meeting lots of men and going on lots of dates. It was really great… Until it wasn’t.
I’m not here to judge his choices though… And really, I feel like I could go either way. If he said that he wanted to give it a go, I think I’d happily be in that camp. But I’m… I’m no longer the girl that waits to find out.
I hate that about myself, but things get close and I get… Oof I don’t know what I get. I want to know if things are moving in a positive direction and if like, the guy doesn’t even have his blinker on for the approaching turn, I bail. But I am who I am — I like to be chased, I like to pursued. I like the reassurance that comes from someone who is really into me a lot better than that unclear space, “Does he like me? What gives?”
So I talked to him last night… And I told him that I felt like things were on a course for a relationship and I knew he wasn’t ready for that. He felt bad, I think. He doesn’t want to be a dick that leads women on and I certainly don’t feel led. But at this point, he’s met my friends… I’ve met his friends… He’s met my parents… I’ve met his parents… We’re both in living situations where it will be impossible not to run into each other’s parents… And if we’re just… casually dating… I don’t know. I like to keep those circles separate.
Maybe I didn’t give this one enough time. I’m not sure. We agreed that we’ll be friends, but no more sexy time. And I felt like things were left in a good space. Like, we turned the wheel and prevented ourselves from falling off some cliff, not knowing what we both want.
And then, he blogged about it. And not only that, he linked my blog in his blog (Hey, Giant’s friends! How you doin’?) and so now there’s this entire digital dialog undercurrent that is running underneath all the things we actually said to one another. Somebody once said to me, “Don’t date and blog.” I don’t remember who that person was and clearly, haven’t taken their advice too seriously.
From the start of my transition back into dating (I took two years off remember) I’ve given myself one rule. No relationships. My whole intent, my purpose, is to go out and have fun. It had been forever since I went out with a woman, enjoyed the company of estrogen instead of testosterone…really flirted with a pretty face. First kisses. First meetings. First laughs. Not only that but I want to play the field. I’ve never tried “dating.” Most of the time I went on a date it was for the purpose of being in a relationship. In fact, I can honestly say that I’ve only been on three dates that didn’t end in a relationship. And those were some terrible dates. Truth be told, I don’t know if I know how to “date.”
Like, jeez! Does this sound like me or what? I mean, I know how to date… I think that’s the only difference. My experience with dating has taught me that if we kept on the path that we’re on now, I’d get attached and want more and if he wasn’t ready still, there’d be potential for a lot of heartache and shit. I don’t want to do that with him. He’s a fantastic person. So for me, it was time to bail. Right move or not, I yanked open the car door and threw myself into the dust.
So, all of this to say… At what point are you sure about a person? My friend Peter is dating right now, and he’s so caught up in his head about things. He feels like he’s leaving “a trail of women” behind him, women that got emotionally invested in him while he wasn’t sure about them… Women that now are all mad at him.
I think, when you’re sure, you’re sure. Its probably scary and makes your hands tremble. But if you stop thinking about it so much, you gradually just find yourself in a space in your heart where you’re like, “Oh yes. I don’t want to continue without this person in my life.” Nobody gets on the roller coaster and thinks about the construction of it or the gears or the safety rating on their lap belts. They get on and throw their hands up in the air and fucking enjoy themselves. Is there a risk that you could be tick-tick-ticking up to the top of the hill and then the cars just break free and you DIE?! Sure. Of course, man. There are risks associated with anything.
I think, ultimately, The Giant and I are in the same camp. We like each other, sure… But there a million and one reasons that seem to linger in the back of our heads as to why it isn’t quite right.
The distance is one factor for me. Also, our opposite work schedules. I know, for him, he’s thinking about moving away from Georgia and starting over someplace out west. He’s also carrying a lot of baggage from his last relationship still and, of course, some of that baggage we always carry…
None of these things depreciate our value though… He’s still an incredible gentleman (seriously, I haven’t opened a door YET) with a super warm and snuggly disposition. He’s kind and thoughtful and remembers every conversation we’ve ever had. He’s adorable and the chemistry between us is… *fans face*… Pretty incredible. He could also rip the limbs from any junkie that tried to mug us on the street. And, according to him,
Jami is awesome though. She’s a smart, single mother. She’s a writer (seriously…you can check out her blogs Date Wrecks and Freak Bacon), and she’s funny. She’s cute. She’s fun. She’s flirty. She has an amazing ass and she’s experimental in bed. See? All good traits.
We’re just not in the organic position of throwing our hands up and enjoying the ride. What’s the point of being on a roller coaster if you’re not throwing your fears out and throwing your hands up to the sky?