True to my word, openly promised starting some time ago (such as http://www.facebook.com/permalink.php?story_fbid=167272561646&id=1356666137, followed by sufficient diligent effort), I’ve long been entirely withdrawn from the game of dating. I have my many reasons, but it’s summarized well in my father’s understanding response when I said, “Conventional dating is a waste of time for me”: “For you, it is.”
What I reject is not people, is not the goal, is not some form of effort, but the “artificial ritual” to which Jen referred. It’s when we force ourselves, in an empty world of dating, to do and act as everyone else does (without any thought given as to why it’s so, no matter how long that may have been the case) that we not only make ourselves miserable, but are less likely to stand out on any basis other than the shallow perceptions by which so much dating is conducted. I once tried to explain this to a slightly vainglorious individual, “What if you knew that every time you entered a room, there WOULDN’T be at least one person instantly attracted to you? What if you had to fall back on other things, and then learned that the others didn’t care about them, or at least weren’t focused on them in this setting? Would you linger?” Given a scenario where a woman could choose between my profile and a more “traditionally” or “instantaneously distinguishable” handsome man’s, I’d lose essentially 100 times out of 100. What many don’t realize is that even when they’re winning at that game, they’re losing. Success is thus built on the wrong foundation, devoid of communication of the lasting values.
A friend once asked if I’d date someone in my, erm, height class, because it could make both her and me feel better. In the first place, I’ve never seen a momentary ego boost as good cause for a date. That’s using someone else. True, girls sometimes have to be more sensitive, due to their better nurturing side, to the effects of compliments—not wanting to send the wrong message—but false praise given now only makes someone feel much worse down the road. How would she feel if later I had to say, “Oh, sorry, I just dated you for your height. I have no real emotional bond”? My response is always that I don’t rule out anything, but of far more importance to me is the mind and spirit, common ground of a rather more significant stature. I can’t see myself asking a gal, “So, did anyone crack a short joke today?” or “Had any surgeries lately?” or anything of that sort. More than a decade ago, I at least temporarily transcended the world of pain, and I don’t see that as a conversation piece. As much as more attractive people, I wouldn’t want to be interesting solely on appearance; I want to know first whether she can enter into my world of historical/philosophical/theological thought.
I no longer see it as my personal responsibility to play a form of dating Russian roulette—made so by the nature of the games to which people consent--with an astronomical number of loaded chambers. That “one” result will EVENTUALLY be safe is a poor argument, statistically or otherwise, for why we’re sticking a gun to our head in the first place. Method, folks! Some downplay the severity/urgency/drama of this method, even while sustaining it in other particulars. I perceive the mortal danger as arising from unduly created risks (often in the realm of communication), not because I’ve imposed an inflated sense of importance on the outcome: it might inflict greater damage where expectation was exaggerated, but the harm comes from an amoral/immoral system which is the last from which we should be taking cues about our self-worth. One of the contradictions with which I’ve contended in my own life is the sheer extent to which someone can respect me…up to the point at which I ask her out. (That’s where I pull the trigger.) I’ve long conceded that there’s an understandable hurdle to deal with in my mortal shell (in addition to the typical differentiation between all friendships and one with genuine potential for romance), but for those who already knew me well and only moments before acted like I was one of the best guys they knew to react so violently to the hypothetical thought of any other dimension to the relationship...it’s insulting. And that is good food for thought for all of us in our approach. Right or wrong, we should carefully scrutinize what it is within us that either creates or refuses interest.
I didn’t exactly have trouble getting dates, if I made that a focal point. I wasn’t cherishing greater feelings of respect on the whole as a result of not one woman ever having the backbone to tell me no to a first date. (One very soundly declined a second and won my respect in just getting straight to the point—without sounding like she’d as soon kill me as look at me--when asked.) Instead, far too many spent the majority of that first date sending out a host of preemptive signals rejecting a second, indeed, showing a breed of contempt for the first. Would that they’d started this assault in their living room and aborted the ill-conceived operation! Not long ago, I described certain behaviors toward me which I’ve come to accept as a matter of course, and a friend said, “Wow. That is COLD!” One doesn’t need to drop hints, never-ending OR case-specific, if they’ll just say it to my face. I may not understand why they seem to despise me for little good reason, but we needn’t prolong the treatment. This hurt all the more from those who ought to have known better, and known ME better.
The last woman for whom I ever made a concerted effort at dating was fairly consistent in not showing the same amount of openness; that much, I can admit. I still bought into the slow cultivation line which is sometimes fed to singles, and patiently bore with a steady procession of men courting her. She thought it personally motivated when I later pointed out that not all such takers were half so altruistically motivated when they stopped by. The inconsistencies, once outlined at great length in a 10+ page document whereby I purged my analysis, were primarily in her own behaviors, though they did trend toward the callous. This much abridged and newly angled version obviously omits the developmental stages.
On the final hopeful day, I drove over half an hour at her invitation, only to discover that there’d be another man involved. He sat between me and her in the theater, with her conversing amiably and somewhat privately with him during a movie. As I was leaving with an internal note of finality and acceptance, suddenly she expressed a great deal of interest in having me come back. I returned, only to have her abruptly depart. I THEN subordinated my self-respect and responsibilities for the rest of the day, yet she continued to consign me to back burner, if that. I’ve wasted enough of my life being sent to a corner while another man (or everything else, as the case may be) claimed the affections of my pursuit. So, what was new? She liked me a LOT as long as I remained on a short leash. There were stern, if unspoken, expectations about what I couldn’t possibly press for, no matter what I saw other men doing. To that, I’ve thought, “I don’t leash or muzzle you. How about you not do so to me?” I left the complex that night and sent her a message that it was probably best that I not go to so much trouble to see her any more. (Please note that she’d repeatedly stressed before that she wanted me to keep visiting.)
To this she replied quite diplomatically, with her usual airy indefiniteness. She expressed the willingness to explain herself if I wanted to come see her. Had she simply explained herself, no need for that subsequent visit, eh? After another long drive to her place, she shot the breeze for about 20 minutes and finally said, “You must have come here for something else.” Me, mentally: “Um, yes, dear. I’m not forcing you to say anything, but I did come on the understanding that you’d say it.” She then launched into a DTR sort of chat. To this day, I chuckle sardonically at the memory of her crying as she said that she “really, really love[d]" me, only to pause, alarmed, look up, and blurt out, “as a friend!” She wound up with, “I think you should move on.” (She thanked me for letting her speak her mind, as it were; I suppose there was no way to accelerate the theatrics and conclusion.) I was perfectly aware that it wasn’t even a dating relationship—she’d expressly forbidden such—and so I was doubly offended by her needlessly heavy-handed approach, using a cannon to kill a mosquito. She could have saved me a trip and a lot of time if she’d just e-mailed, texted, or
Part of the offense was that she dealt this pointless blow with the comment that she’d been “trying” with guys, and that it wasn’t going to work with that other man, either. I’ve placed my finger on the firm disapproval with which I look upon her categorizing the access she permitted me as the same she permitted him. Without greater successive waves of charitable introspection, it’s possible part of me will resent that to the end of my days. (I know that various offenses, however much I’ve sought to technically forgive, from as far back as 1995 spring more readily to mind than ever did optimism when approaching the dating scenario.) She proved so automatically condescending with the couple of future contacts that I vowed to sever all possibility of our crossing paths.
I always make the point that there were sweet, admirable women along the way, who merely didn’t turn out to be the right ones for me. However, there was too large a bulk of contradictory messages, and uphill battles…which lots of men and women have, admittedly, experienced of a degree. I don’t think it’s my job, or anyone else’s, to spend weeks (or more) vying for the level of attention which a person will happily lavish upon another in under 15 seconds. That doesn’t even resemble competition, to which I have my own moral objections. It doesn’t remotely resemble fidelity, respect, or honesty. It’s the very antithesis of all that I seek in a companion. I answer to the latest experience, not summative in the least, but certainly representative, of all which has gone before, that no one will ever strictly circumscribe my sphere of action again. There’s an unfortunate risk if I develop romantic interest in someone with whom I actually am only a friend, but no girl toward whom I’ve expressed such an interest will ever again keep me around purely for her enjoyment, solely on her own terms, if it’s going to pain or demean me. I’m free to ask, and she’s free to turn down. Adult behaviors and full disclosure, right? I’m either worth a *genuine* first date or not, however unexpected, and 9 out of 10 girls I’ve ever asked out have had sufficient data to know their answer to that before I asked.
