Ways I Fail at Dates: Vol. 2

Well, I have somehow tricked someone into asking me on a date.  I'm exceptionally nervous because this guy is a little older and pretty much has his life together, while I'm still trying to figure everything out.  I wrote a while ago about the ways I fail at dates and we all know how I like to over think everything, so I extended the list.  Here is the addendum:

Intensity
There are certain things that I get really intense about when I discuss them.  And sometimes those things are kind of unimportant.  And sometimes that comes off as being a little bit crazy.  I mean, just a little bit, not like boil your kid's rabbit crazy, but like, "Whoa, if she's this amped up just talking about this movie, I wonder what she'll be like about something that actually matters."  You either really like that (chances: 1 in 10,000) or you don't (chances: everyone else).  There is a fine line between being passionate and being fanatical.

Over-Sensitivity
We all know that I am just a wee bit sensitive.  Sometimes someone can say something completely unrelated to me and I take it personally.  This means bad news when it comes to dating.  For instance, if someone makes a comment about my completely ridiculous loud laugh, I worry that it's annoying, try not to laugh for the rest of the night, then all my dates substandard jokes (in comparison to mine, of course) fall flat, then no one is having fun anymore, then my date goes home thinking, "What just happened?" and then I'm still alone.  (Sidenote: That was the greatest run-on sentence I've ever written.  Let's take a moment of reflection for it.)  This oversensitivity is often complimented by my:

Self-Consciousness
I'm a pretty confident person about many things, but, like most girls, I do worry that I don't measure up physically.  This issue is exacerbated by a first date. 

Here is an excerpt from my brain during a date:  What does my hair look like?  Am I talking to much about my love for Diet Pepsi and/or Downton Abbey and/or ballet flats and/or cardigans?  Is the pimple that somehow grew out of my chin overnight still covered by the entire stick of concealer I used?  Oh, oh, oh - is he looking at the pimple now? I can't talk, cause if I do my chin will move and then the pimple will be more obvious.  What did he just ask?  Maybe I'll just take another bite of this food and buy some time.  And, of course the food would fall down my shirt.  Of course.  

And that, my friends, is only the beginning.

Maybe what I'll focus on is the fact that I was so naturally charming that this guy asked me out.  ON PURPOSE.  I'm not sure you're taking the journey with me, so let me repeat - I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING BUT BE MY DELIGHTFUL SELF and he asked me out.  He's clearly a genius and has incredible taste.  He likes me already, I don't have to go in and try to win him over.  The battle is already won - now I just have to translate that in a one-on-one atmosphere. 

Now, if you'll excuse me I have to cover up a pimple and find a paper bag to breathe in.

~j