After a couple nights out and a few rounds of IM with some friends, I realized (or I was told) I didn’t fully explain why my quest for a boyfriend kept me from blogging.
As plain as I can put it: looking for a boyfriend left me feeling terrible about myself. And all that self-loathing paralyzed me from doing much of anything else – particularly writing. After all it is hard to believe you have any skills or talent when you keep telling yourself that you are a terrible, awful, human being.
Okay, I never said those words, but I may as well have. Looking back on it – this past year or so’s quest for a boyfriend was one of the most self-destructive things I have ever done.
Some of you may be guffawing. “Really, Tati. The most self-destructive thing you have ever done?”
Well, yeah. I’m not a cutter. I don’t have an eating disorder. And besides smoking (not any more) and drinking -- I don’t have any real vices (shoes don’t count).
Plus, think about the whole dating thing:
You meet a guy (or a girl) (either in a bar, or a coffeeshop, or a bar, or in line at the grocery store). You talk. You flirt. You exchange numbers. Maybe you make out (if you are drunk at a bar – not recommend if you are in line at a grocery store). Then you wait for him or her to call.
And you wait.
And then you call your friends who tell you to keep waiting.
So you wait some more.
Then your friends call you back to see if there is any word.
Maybe you cry a little at this point.
Finally, you stop waiting (but not crying) and you start wondering. Why didn’t he call? Was it something you said? Did your breath taste funny? Did you use too much tongue? As you walked away did he see your ass and think “whoa” and not in a good way?
It’s funny. It rarely crosses your mind that he may have lost his cell phone or been in a terrible accident and is now in a coma? (All my years of dating, when a guy called, no friend ever suggested I call around to area hospitals to check if he was admitted) Or is simply a jerk that didn’t call.
For some, this wondering lasts an afternoon. Maybe a weekend if she really liked him. For them, however, it doesn’t compound in their heads’ the way it does for those like me. For simplicity sake, I have decided to break these two groups of women up into Single Ladies and Huntresses.
Single ladies, like my friend Marie, can online date, and get fixed up, and go to mixers, and go to bars and never show the wear and tear because there isn’t any. At no time does she give the rejections any more value than they deserve.
For the huntress, however, dating is a game. A game she can’t lose. And when she does – when a guy doesn’t call or doesn’t show interest – all she does is think about what she did wrong. She analyzes game tape, makes changes to the roster, buys new uniforms, script new plays, and goes at it again.
The more she loses, the more work that needs to get done; the less time she has for anything else – if she wanted to do anything else. If she is like me – she just wants to win again, because she is not used to being a loser.
So this is why I couldn’t write. I didn’t have the time and towards the end I didn't have the belief in myself that I could. This is also why I can’t date anymore. I’m a huntress that has been clean now for almost a month and I don’t want to go back.