I have a confession to make. I hate dating. Except for when I love it, and I only love it fleetingly, before my insecurities set in and I start to go cuh-razy. In those fleeting moments I think to myself, “This is great! I’m young, I’m unattached, and there’s an attractive person sitting across from me who I may or may not make out with later.” And then later, after we have or have not made out, the wheels start turning, and I begin to wait for the inevitable letdown that, as cynical as this may sound, I assume is right around the corner.
The last person I went out with, I went out with three times. After the third date, I decided I was allowed to get excited about him, because after three dates, he probably kind of likes me right? Nevermind the fact that I hadn’t really considered whether I liked him all that much. I mean, he was nice, and good-looking, and was a good kisser. He knew what he wanted in life, had passions, all very attractive qualities. But he was also a major work out freak. Not to say I have a problem with people who work out a lot, but I don’t, at least not enough, and when someone considers physical fitness a key part of their life — a hobby, in fact — we probably will run into trouble down the line. Because I would rather do just about anything than go to a gym. Including going to the gynecologist. But not the dentist. No, not the dentist.
Anyway, the point is, I wasn’t thinking about my own real, tangible interest in him, I was only thinking about whether he was interested in me. Because I desperately fear, in all sincerity, that I will never again find someone who loved me like my ex-fiance did. And that even if I do, they will likely leave me the way he did. Isn’t that pathetic? With each new person that I’ve gone out with, I’ve been looking for hints, signs, anything that will indicate that they have the capacity to hurt me the way my ex did.
I haven’t quite decided what I should do. Keep dating, trying to be aware of what’s really going on psychologically when I find my moods swinging over someone I’ve barely just met? Or take a breather and focus on working through those feeling alone? A combo of both, maybe, where I don’t online date or ask my friends for setups? I think the latter is most likely what I’ll do, going out with someone when asked — like, um, the hot guy on the 8th floor of my apartment building — if I want to, but it may make these columns a little more infrequent. I wish I was someone who could brush it off — by “it” I mean heartbreak — but I’m not. So I think I am going to sit with it for awhile, without intentional distraction, and then hopefully I’ll get to a point where it doesn’t follow me on dates, nagging at me the entire time.