I genuinely enjoy Valentine's Day. I loved it even when I didn't have anyone to call my Valentine. All the candies and flowers and happiness that float around make me feel full in the typically cold quadrant of my chest where my heart should be. Maybe it's the optimist (that sometimes comes to visit) in me that makes me all mushy, but I can't help it. I LOVE love.
And this year, I'm worse.
I'm in a post-Valentine's dreamland, where everything is fluffy bunnies and the world is throwing up rainbows.
The boyfriend (Mr. Wildcard) sent me a spectacular, just right for me, surprise Valentine. I was speechless. Okay, okay, maybe not speechless. I kind of yelped and carried on and was VERY LOUD, but the sentiment was still the same. Someone cared enough for me to send an incredible, memory-making present. Basically, Mr. Wildcard hit it out of the park, definitively.
Here is the part where I usually go on and on about how I couldn't believe someone would go out of their way for me, but this year it's different. I've found someone who loves me the way I should be loved. Someone who cares for me the same way I do for them. I appreciate the effort and the thought behind his gift immensely and I'm wowed, but at the same time I deserve this happiness.
When someone does something nice for us, we sometimes think, "Why? Why would they do that for me?" That's not the point. The point is they did it because you're worth it. When you become concerned with the 'why's' you miss everything that is so great about that moment. Just sit back and know that they did what they did for you because they probably think you're just as awesome as you think they are.
As much as I talk about how great I am, I don't really rate myself well. I mean, sure I'm comfortable in lots of situations, smartish, pretty in a Drew Barrymore/goofy face kinda way, tall, subversively comedic, good with strangers, polite, thoughtful, have nice penmanship and about 10,000+ other wonderful things...wait, what was I saying?
In all honesty, I'm always astounded when someone wants to date me. I don't get it, but the cool part is, I don't have to. Mr. Wildcard doesn't love me in spite of my dorkiness, disproportionally loud laugh and crooked smile, he kinda loves me because of those things. And who am I to argue?
Accept the love you're given. Give the love you feel.
It's as simple as that.
~j
Friday, February 15, 2013
Friday, February 1, 2013
Now You See Him, Now You Don't
Some guys are really good at what I call "The Disappearing Act." I'm not sure if they watched too many reruns of 'Breaking The Magician's Code' or if they want to have a Vegas act someday, but a few of them have perfected the art of vaporization. They were around, active, interested and then, *poof* they're gone. Lame.
I started thinking hard about this when a friend from college related a story to me about this guy she was dating. (A little backstory on her: She's sweet, kind, smart and thoughtful. She once bought me a DVD of our favorite Keri Russell TV movie-which I still have. She is a delight, I tell you.) Basically, everything was fine and then he stopped returning her texts/calls. He just vanished. Barring his actual death/dismemberment - which I have not been informed of - there really isn't a reason to all of a sudden stop communicating with someone.
And let me clarify something for you; this was an ACTUAL RELATIONSHIP. They were official on the Facebook. He sent her flowers multiple times. They went on frequent dates. Everything was just peachy keen, from what I understand. They talked about having dinner on a Saturday and when she checked in with him on that Saturday, he never texted her back. He didn't follow up with her the next day either. She finally called and left him a message that basically said, "Hey, if you're done, that's cool. I don't want to be in a relationship with someone who doesn't want to be in one with me." And she STILL didn't hear anything.
I don't get it. If, at any point, you don't want to date someone anymore, why don't you just vocalize your problem? Anything could have happened to him, as far as I know. He could've been abducted my aliens. He could've been struck with a hammer causing a case of amnesia. He could've been recruited to the CIA. He could've been placed in the Witness Protection Program. A million things could have happened, but how likely is that? I give the listed things the same odds as I give the chance of John Cusack meeting me and falling madly in love: 0.000000001%. (Although we can all agree, if he did meet me he would be endlessly charmed and surely would fall in love, can't we?)
I just think he stopped calling because he was a coward.
And he's not the only one of his kind out there. If you don't want to have a relationship with someone, just say so. Sit down and have an honest conversation with that person. They might hate you at that moment, but in the end they don't have to question what happened. They know. There is a definitive answer. It's the only fair thing to do.
Listen, I understand that some people avoid confrontation and awkward conversations like I avoid the guy selling those hair straighteners in the mall. No one wants to have to broach that topic, no one wants to be the bad guy. I get it. I wouldn't want to have a conversation like that either, but what is the point of treating someone you liked at some point (we hope) so callously? By just evaporating, I think the person experiences a greater heartache. They sit there and think that they were too forgettable or unimportant for a phone call. How cruel.
Do the right thing, vanishers. Sit down. Talk. Be the 'bad guy' for a split second. You'll be glad you did.
~J
I started thinking hard about this when a friend from college related a story to me about this guy she was dating. (A little backstory on her: She's sweet, kind, smart and thoughtful. She once bought me a DVD of our favorite Keri Russell TV movie-which I still have. She is a delight, I tell you.) Basically, everything was fine and then he stopped returning her texts/calls. He just vanished. Barring his actual death/dismemberment - which I have not been informed of - there really isn't a reason to all of a sudden stop communicating with someone.
And let me clarify something for you; this was an ACTUAL RELATIONSHIP. They were official on the Facebook. He sent her flowers multiple times. They went on frequent dates. Everything was just peachy keen, from what I understand. They talked about having dinner on a Saturday and when she checked in with him on that Saturday, he never texted her back. He didn't follow up with her the next day either. She finally called and left him a message that basically said, "Hey, if you're done, that's cool. I don't want to be in a relationship with someone who doesn't want to be in one with me." And she STILL didn't hear anything.
I don't get it. If, at any point, you don't want to date someone anymore, why don't you just vocalize your problem? Anything could have happened to him, as far as I know. He could've been abducted my aliens. He could've been struck with a hammer causing a case of amnesia. He could've been recruited to the CIA. He could've been placed in the Witness Protection Program. A million things could have happened, but how likely is that? I give the listed things the same odds as I give the chance of John Cusack meeting me and falling madly in love: 0.000000001%. (Although we can all agree, if he did meet me he would be endlessly charmed and surely would fall in love, can't we?)
I just think he stopped calling because he was a coward.
And he's not the only one of his kind out there. If you don't want to have a relationship with someone, just say so. Sit down and have an honest conversation with that person. They might hate you at that moment, but in the end they don't have to question what happened. They know. There is a definitive answer. It's the only fair thing to do.
Listen, I understand that some people avoid confrontation and awkward conversations like I avoid the guy selling those hair straighteners in the mall. No one wants to have to broach that topic, no one wants to be the bad guy. I get it. I wouldn't want to have a conversation like that either, but what is the point of treating someone you liked at some point (we hope) so callously? By just evaporating, I think the person experiences a greater heartache. They sit there and think that they were too forgettable or unimportant for a phone call. How cruel.
Do the right thing, vanishers. Sit down. Talk. Be the 'bad guy' for a split second. You'll be glad you did.
~J
Tuesday, January 15, 2013
That's How The Cat Was Killed
A few weeks ago, Mr. Wild Card and I got into our first fight. Wait...let me clarify: by fight, I mean, I yelled at him, he really didn't know what I was mad about and oooooh, was I mad. This is where you're like, 'Ooh, gurl! What did he do?,' but it's not that simple. In fact, I kind of had no leg to stand on, when you get down to it.
Here's a Cliff's Notes version of events for you:
We had a great night. Really, we did. It was New Years' Eve and we were out with people we liked and everything was perfect. My heart was exploding in sincere thankfulness that I got to spend such a super evening with someone I was growing to love. We tweeted our affections to each other. We kissed at midnight. We shared the first moments of 2013 together. It was a good memory-making night.
At the very end of the night, I somehow winded up with possession of his phone. I mean, he hands me his phone all the time - it wasn't any different than usual. Now, I'm not a snooper (yes, I know every girl says that, but I really try not to be) and he tells me everything, so I had no reason to be concerned anyway. I have never felt, not a single time, that he wasn't telling me the truth.
Anyway, back to the phone: I flipped through his pictures, looking for one we took together, so I could send it to myself and post it to Instagram. I found it and went to close the phone, when IT happened. I promise you that it was an accident. I swear on my cardigan collection, I wasn't looking for anything.
I'm not sure how (my clumsy Yeti fingers are at fault, I'm sure), but I ended up in his text message. (Hey, hey, it's a common mistake. Isn't it? *gulp* Yes, I'm aware of how bad this sounds.) I ended up seeing a message from him to one of his friends and it hurt my feelings. It wasn't anything too terrible and had been written a really long time before, but it still made me sad and angry. The problem? I shouldn't have been looking at the messages in the first place.
Let me put this into context for you: I was reading the things his friend was writing (which was about their relationship) and it was getting interesting. He was saying super nice things about me and how his family liked me and how I'm so great (I'd go on about all that, but you're already aware of my good points, so I'll move on). I mean, I had to DIG through the messages to get to the bad one. Like, load the page a few dozen times. Bad Jeana. So, so bad.
I was like a person possessed. I couldn't stop. I'd never had that inclination before and it was a hard realization that I had invaded his privacy. It didn't matter what he said to his friend, that was between his friend and him and was written in confidence. I wasn't supposed to see it. I took things out of context and just railed on him. It came out of nowhere for him on a night that was otherwise terrific. I spoiled it because I got nosy.
Now, he's not completely faultless here. He did something that warranted my anger, but it's almost a Catch 22: I wouldn't have been angry if I didn't let my curiosity be my guide. The whole thing wouldn't have happened if I has just stepped away from the phone. I learned a really hard lesson here: the only thing you gain by violating someone's trust is guilt. Maybe you don't know about something for a reason, a good reason. Maybe it's saving you some grief and overthinking. All truths come out eventually, right?
Even from this bump, something good happened: Mr. Wild Card and I got closer. We worked through it. He was patient with my hesitation. He didn't hold my clear invasion of his personal property against me, in fact, he apologized. He never even got mad. He had every right to be upset with me going through his stuff, but he chose not to and I'm not sure why. He's way better at this whole dating thing than I am, obviously.
Everyone, no matter how much they usually aren't, can be nosy. They can go past their typical boundaries and be a snoop. And then there are other people who are just snooptacular. They are like private investigators. Either way, you've got to fight that feeling. You've got to understand that if you're supposed to know something, you'll be told eventually. You've got to let trust rule. A relationship just isn't going to work otherwise.
I've learned my lesson and hopefully you've learned from it too.
~J
Here's a Cliff's Notes version of events for you:
We had a great night. Really, we did. It was New Years' Eve and we were out with people we liked and everything was perfect. My heart was exploding in sincere thankfulness that I got to spend such a super evening with someone I was growing to love. We tweeted our affections to each other. We kissed at midnight. We shared the first moments of 2013 together. It was a good memory-making night.
At the very end of the night, I somehow winded up with possession of his phone. I mean, he hands me his phone all the time - it wasn't any different than usual. Now, I'm not a snooper (yes, I know every girl says that, but I really try not to be) and he tells me everything, so I had no reason to be concerned anyway. I have never felt, not a single time, that he wasn't telling me the truth.
Anyway, back to the phone: I flipped through his pictures, looking for one we took together, so I could send it to myself and post it to Instagram. I found it and went to close the phone, when IT happened. I promise you that it was an accident. I swear on my cardigan collection, I wasn't looking for anything.
I'm not sure how (my clumsy Yeti fingers are at fault, I'm sure), but I ended up in his text message. (Hey, hey, it's a common mistake. Isn't it? *gulp* Yes, I'm aware of how bad this sounds.) I ended up seeing a message from him to one of his friends and it hurt my feelings. It wasn't anything too terrible and had been written a really long time before, but it still made me sad and angry. The problem? I shouldn't have been looking at the messages in the first place.
Let me put this into context for you: I was reading the things his friend was writing (which was about their relationship) and it was getting interesting. He was saying super nice things about me and how his family liked me and how I'm so great (I'd go on about all that, but you're already aware of my good points, so I'll move on). I mean, I had to DIG through the messages to get to the bad one. Like, load the page a few dozen times. Bad Jeana. So, so bad.
I was like a person possessed. I couldn't stop. I'd never had that inclination before and it was a hard realization that I had invaded his privacy. It didn't matter what he said to his friend, that was between his friend and him and was written in confidence. I wasn't supposed to see it. I took things out of context and just railed on him. It came out of nowhere for him on a night that was otherwise terrific. I spoiled it because I got nosy.
Now, he's not completely faultless here. He did something that warranted my anger, but it's almost a Catch 22: I wouldn't have been angry if I didn't let my curiosity be my guide. The whole thing wouldn't have happened if I has just stepped away from the phone. I learned a really hard lesson here: the only thing you gain by violating someone's trust is guilt. Maybe you don't know about something for a reason, a good reason. Maybe it's saving you some grief and overthinking. All truths come out eventually, right?
Even from this bump, something good happened: Mr. Wild Card and I got closer. We worked through it. He was patient with my hesitation. He didn't hold my clear invasion of his personal property against me, in fact, he apologized. He never even got mad. He had every right to be upset with me going through his stuff, but he chose not to and I'm not sure why. He's way better at this whole dating thing than I am, obviously.
Everyone, no matter how much they usually aren't, can be nosy. They can go past their typical boundaries and be a snoop. And then there are other people who are just snooptacular. They are like private investigators. Either way, you've got to fight that feeling. You've got to understand that if you're supposed to know something, you'll be told eventually. You've got to let trust rule. A relationship just isn't going to work otherwise.
I've learned my lesson and hopefully you've learned from it too.
~J
Tuesday, January 8, 2013
Complicated Is Overrated
One thing I've noticed in dating Mr. Wild Card is that everything was just so easy with him. We became 'official' with minimal talking - he initiated the conversation and I was more than agreeable. We made it official on Facebook without much push and pull. We were able to transition into saying "I love you" easily. All of these things made sense in the moment, there wasn't any hesitation or backpedaling. It was so easy.
It made me look back at some of my old relationships and realize that all the times that I have become a couple with someone, it was just as easy. (Now, the breaking up part wasn't so easy, but such is life.) There weren't any guessing games or having playing my cards close to the vest - it was easy. Huh. I think I'm onto something here.
See, the thing is that sometimes girls, young women, ladies or other such feminine creatures make relationships a lot harder than they need to be. They make non-relationships harder than they need to be. (Note: I make everything harder than it needs to be - sorry, Mr. Wild Card.) It doesn't have to be that way at all.
If you are supposed to be dating someone, it's going to happen. There's no amount of scheming, make-up, pouty faces, purposefully missed calls or causal run-ins that will make anyone want to date you more than they already do or do not. You can't create a situation in which you suddenly become more desirable to someone who just isn't interested. Why waste all that effort and subject yourself to heartache when that person you're putting on a pedestal doesn't even have you on their radar?
Advice tells you not to be too available, not to talk too much, not to be too needy, not to pry, not to monopolize all their time, not to do this and that. It's garbage. There is no cocktail of behavior that can make someone want to date you. Be yourself - your person will care about you no matter how much you talk or how often you call. The person that you are supposed to be dating will find the amount of time they see your face just right or not enough. Your partner will care about hearing you complain about work, will tweet at you no matter how busy they are and will like when you post pictures of you and them on every social media outlet in existence. Your person will love you no matter how you act - they love you because you are you.
Why, then, do we make it so complicated? Because the heart wants what the heart wants? Because endless books and articles about dating tell us too? Forget that. You aren't supposed to convince or persuade someone into a relationship. It's meant to be easy and natural; we all need that reminder every so often.
So, get rid of the notion that there is some magic to dating. It's straightforward. You like someone and they like you and you spend time together and if you still like each other, you continue to date. Simple.
Here's to more simple in 2013.
~j
It made me look back at some of my old relationships and realize that all the times that I have become a couple with someone, it was just as easy. (Now, the breaking up part wasn't so easy, but such is life.) There weren't any guessing games or having playing my cards close to the vest - it was easy. Huh. I think I'm onto something here.
See, the thing is that sometimes girls, young women, ladies or other such feminine creatures make relationships a lot harder than they need to be. They make non-relationships harder than they need to be. (Note: I make everything harder than it needs to be - sorry, Mr. Wild Card.) It doesn't have to be that way at all.
If you are supposed to be dating someone, it's going to happen. There's no amount of scheming, make-up, pouty faces, purposefully missed calls or causal run-ins that will make anyone want to date you more than they already do or do not. You can't create a situation in which you suddenly become more desirable to someone who just isn't interested. Why waste all that effort and subject yourself to heartache when that person you're putting on a pedestal doesn't even have you on their radar?
Advice tells you not to be too available, not to talk too much, not to be too needy, not to pry, not to monopolize all their time, not to do this and that. It's garbage. There is no cocktail of behavior that can make someone want to date you. Be yourself - your person will care about you no matter how much you talk or how often you call. The person that you are supposed to be dating will find the amount of time they see your face just right or not enough. Your partner will care about hearing you complain about work, will tweet at you no matter how busy they are and will like when you post pictures of you and them on every social media outlet in existence. Your person will love you no matter how you act - they love you because you are you.
Why, then, do we make it so complicated? Because the heart wants what the heart wants? Because endless books and articles about dating tell us too? Forget that. You aren't supposed to convince or persuade someone into a relationship. It's meant to be easy and natural; we all need that reminder every so often.
So, get rid of the notion that there is some magic to dating. It's straightforward. You like someone and they like you and you spend time together and if you still like each other, you continue to date. Simple.
Here's to more simple in 2013.
~j
Friday, January 4, 2013
Mr. Wild Card (aka The Boyfriend)
Preface: I know it's been a little while since I've written, so please accept my apologies. I, like you, have been busy and (unlike you, I'm sure) utterly self-absorbed. Luckily, one of my resolutions is to write at least once a week, so I hope that appeases you.
The last time I wrote, I had just gone on several dates with this guy that I wasn't too sure about. I mean, he was perfectly fine, more than that really, but I just didn't think he really liked me. He was way different than any other person I've dated in a long time. He was confident, self-assured, socially aware, secure, independent, forward thinking and a little cocky. He was the wild card amongst the few guys I was talking to in late autumn.
My insecurities came into play - I felt like he was way more attractive than me, could do much better and wouldn't be interested in me after hearing my loud laugh, learning about my obsession with 90's & Canadian teen dramas, figuring out what a nerd I am and finding out just how much I tweet. I never, in a million years, thought that Mr. Wild Card and I would go further than just those few dates.
I was wrong. As it happens, this guy is my new boyfriend.
I'm not really sure how it happened, if I'm being honest. He kept asking me out and I kept saying yes. I think I was stuck on the fact that I thought he would get tired of me or figure out that I was a square that I sort of disconnected myself from my feelings a little bit. In other words, I was scared. Mr. Wild Card was legitimately interested in dating me and I didn't know how to take that. I didn't know if I would be the person he thought I was in the beginning. You see, I acted aloof and like I could take it or leave it, so if I started to take this whole thing seriously, my demeanor would inevitably change and then what would he think?
After much internal debate, I decided that if he wanted to date me, he was going to get the full Jeana treatment. Inappropriately loud laughter in quiet places. Funny voices and the use of accents. Random dance breaks. Singing of everything. Twitter addiction. Picky eating. Dates occurring after running in which a shower was not taken. Snorts. Diet Pepsi adoration. Jeans and a t-shirt worn with beat up sneakers. Endless commentary during movies. Problems with dwelling on things. Occasional neediness. Inability to take a compliment. Lack of desire to cuddle at any time. Ineptitude at sharing feelings.
What I mean to say is I showed him my crazy.
We all have it, but I tend to hide mine for a long time when dating someone new. I wanted to put everything out there, so he would know what he was getting into - if he saw all this and still hung around, I knew he would be worth all the trouble, hurt feelings and potential sadness I was desperately trying to avoid.
The amazing thing is, he did stay and he is kind of, well, amazing. I'm definitely not saying he's perfect, he's done some dumb stuff, but he's the exact person I need in my life right now. He loves all the parts that I thought weren't lovable. He tells me I'm beautiful and instead of brushing him off, I'm learning to accept it. He makes me want to share my *gulp* feelings. He easily forgives me when I mess up. He makes me want to try. He's made me believe in love again.
(Sidenote: Gosh, I sound uber cheesy, don't I? Forgive me, I'm sure this new love haze will wear off soon.)
This relationship is making me a better person. I'm growing, learning and changing for the better; isn't that what having a grown up relationship is about, really? More than companionship, Mr. Wild Card has given me my belief that there are people out there that will truly care about me, like I do them. If this doesn't last (but golly, I sure hope it does!), I can look back on this whole thing with fondness simply because I've gained that realization. That's an incredible feeling.
Maybe, in my heart of hearts, I am really a romantic and it just took someone to bring it out. Here's to hoping that this new year is full of love, joy, happiness, romance, growth and more time with the people that are important.
With a full and happy heart,
J
The last time I wrote, I had just gone on several dates with this guy that I wasn't too sure about. I mean, he was perfectly fine, more than that really, but I just didn't think he really liked me. He was way different than any other person I've dated in a long time. He was confident, self-assured, socially aware, secure, independent, forward thinking and a little cocky. He was the wild card amongst the few guys I was talking to in late autumn.
My insecurities came into play - I felt like he was way more attractive than me, could do much better and wouldn't be interested in me after hearing my loud laugh, learning about my obsession with 90's & Canadian teen dramas, figuring out what a nerd I am and finding out just how much I tweet. I never, in a million years, thought that Mr. Wild Card and I would go further than just those few dates.
I was wrong. As it happens, this guy is my new boyfriend.
I'm not really sure how it happened, if I'm being honest. He kept asking me out and I kept saying yes. I think I was stuck on the fact that I thought he would get tired of me or figure out that I was a square that I sort of disconnected myself from my feelings a little bit. In other words, I was scared. Mr. Wild Card was legitimately interested in dating me and I didn't know how to take that. I didn't know if I would be the person he thought I was in the beginning. You see, I acted aloof and like I could take it or leave it, so if I started to take this whole thing seriously, my demeanor would inevitably change and then what would he think?
After much internal debate, I decided that if he wanted to date me, he was going to get the full Jeana treatment. Inappropriately loud laughter in quiet places. Funny voices and the use of accents. Random dance breaks. Singing of everything. Twitter addiction. Picky eating. Dates occurring after running in which a shower was not taken. Snorts. Diet Pepsi adoration. Jeans and a t-shirt worn with beat up sneakers. Endless commentary during movies. Problems with dwelling on things. Occasional neediness. Inability to take a compliment. Lack of desire to cuddle at any time. Ineptitude at sharing feelings.
What I mean to say is I showed him my crazy.
We all have it, but I tend to hide mine for a long time when dating someone new. I wanted to put everything out there, so he would know what he was getting into - if he saw all this and still hung around, I knew he would be worth all the trouble, hurt feelings and potential sadness I was desperately trying to avoid.
The amazing thing is, he did stay and he is kind of, well, amazing. I'm definitely not saying he's perfect, he's done some dumb stuff, but he's the exact person I need in my life right now. He loves all the parts that I thought weren't lovable. He tells me I'm beautiful and instead of brushing him off, I'm learning to accept it. He makes me want to share my *gulp* feelings. He easily forgives me when I mess up. He makes me want to try. He's made me believe in love again.
(Sidenote: Gosh, I sound uber cheesy, don't I? Forgive me, I'm sure this new love haze will wear off soon.)
This relationship is making me a better person. I'm growing, learning and changing for the better; isn't that what having a grown up relationship is about, really? More than companionship, Mr. Wild Card has given me my belief that there are people out there that will truly care about me, like I do them. If this doesn't last (but golly, I sure hope it does!), I can look back on this whole thing with fondness simply because I've gained that realization. That's an incredible feeling.
Maybe, in my heart of hearts, I am really a romantic and it just took someone to bring it out. Here's to hoping that this new year is full of love, joy, happiness, romance, growth and more time with the people that are important.
With a full and happy heart,
J
Monday, November 19, 2012
When You Most Expect It
Something that I've over and over again since being re-single is that "love comes when you least expect it." The more I hear it, the more annoyed I become with the phrase. Like, REALLY annoyed. As in, don't ever say that to me or you might get a combo side-eye, duck lip face back at you. You're meaning to say that if I simply let go (and let God) that love will somehow find me? *gasp* Is it that simple? And here I was, making it ever so complicated.
I don't think this turn of phrase is accurate. Let me tell you why.
I don't think this turn of phrase is accurate. Let me tell you why.
Sure, finding love is can be hard and complicated, but, much like anything you want to be successful at, getting into a successful relationship involves work. Let's be honest here - you can't just sit on your couch, eat ice cream, watch repeats of all the Real Housewives franchises (i.e. my Monday nights) and expect to find love. You have to put yourself out there, in whatever capacity that is. And it doesn't mean there isn't an expectation of love necessarily, it's simply a willingness to allow yourself to believe in love and attempt to experience it.
So, what does that look like? Maybe it means you're seeking love out. Maybe it means that you are going on dates. Maybe it's putting a profile up on a dating website. Maybe it's letting your friends know that you're ready to meet someone. Maybe it means that you don't shy away from talking to that cutie across the room.
Maybe it means you try.
Don't get me wrong, I understand the idea behind the phrase. If you are constantly looking for someone to fill a void, the right person doesn't seem to appear. Conversely, if you fill your life with other things like friends, family, or hobbies, you find that you don't need a relationship to feel fulfilled. Sometimes, love comes in a package you weren't anticipating. That's truth.
But here's a critical point I feel is missing from this harsh phrase: I think that with the self-assurance of not needing a partner comes a confidence that is exceedingly attractive. You're focused on yourself and your happiness - you don't need someone else to provide that for you. That's sexy. That takes the pressure off of someone you date. They see that as a sign of self-reliance and want to be a part of what your already full life.
What you shouldn't expect is for Cupid to drop the love of your life at your front door. You shouldn't expect love to come out of every date or every person you meet. You shouldn't expect love to make you complete.
Love comes when it comes. It can blindside you or you can see it coming right for you. It's unpredictable - that's why love is so great.
So, go ahead and expect love. It'll come, if you're ready.
~j
Thursday, November 15, 2012
The Grass Isn't Always Greener
Today's blog entry is special! It's written by my friend Sam, who I have known since high school. He is funny, energetic, sweet, gregarious and adorable, but he's having some trouble in the dating world too. He is a reminder that I'm not the only single person out there (even though it seems like it sometimes) and dating isn't easier just because you happen to have a Y chromosome. I hope you enjoy Sam's thoughts as much as I did!
Here's what Sam has to say today:
Dating in the straight world is hard, but take it from me, a card-carrying citizen of Gay Town, dating among gay men is just as brutal. It takes just as much dedication, openness, vulnerability and patience as dating among the heterosexuals. Just like our straight brethren, we gays also go on bad dates, make silly jokes and wonder why our date isn’t laughing, and meet people who look good on paper but turn out to be complete jerks.
Recently, though, I was reminded of one key element in gay relationships that I believe to be different than in heterosexual relationships: men are extremely visual. I believe men scrutinize a woman’s appearance, body, hair, face, etc., but I believe women are generally a little more forgiving of a less-than-perfect male physique. With gay men, though, there are two men sizing each other up, and in my experience it is less likely that gay men are as forgiving as our female counterparts to pardon someone who falls somewhere south of an Adonis.
Several gay men want a guy who is, at worst, a 9 out of 10. Many gay men want a tall, broad, muscular stud with biceps for days, six pack abs, and toned butt cheeks that can crack walnuts. There’s no room for body fat, and by gum, you better wear clothes that cling to and accentuate every inch of that glorious body. In short, the body reigns supreme. If you have jacked up teeth and serve stank face but your body is a perfect 10, many guys will date you for your body alone. I can’t tell you how many Butterfaces I’ve seen getting hit on by other guys simply because of their chiseled physique.
Now this idea that gay men are extremely visual is nothing shocking. I’ve always known that men are visual. I am too. I mean, you have to at least have some sort of visual attraction to the person, or at least that’s my experience. But a quick look at some of the people I’ve dated over the years shows I’m not discriminatory of a good looking gentleman who has a little extra loving on his body.
However, the days of my youth are limited and I am now facing challenges that I never had to worry about previously. Most recently, I learned that my body was the challenge standing in the way of a date with a certain someone.
I used to have a slight crush on a guy whom we’ll call C, and he happens to work at the same salon where I get my haircut. I was making my regular visit to my stylist, Rigo, and the subject came up that I used to have a crush on C. Little did I know, Rigo, armed with the knowledge of my former crush was going to play matchmaker after I left the salon. A few hours after I left, I got a text message from C saying that he honestly loves being single but he would like to be great friends. At this point in time, the text message was completely out of the blue, but I just replied with a simple, “Oh, of course! I’d love that!” No harm, no foul.
Fast forward to the next time I got my haircut, I was telling Rigo how everything had gone down and that I was slightly embarrassed but more or less confused why C was even texting me to begin with…and that’s when it happened. Rigo, after asking if I wanted the honest truth, said that he approached C about my former crush, and the response was “Well…he’s kinda gained a little weight over the years.”
Jawdrop.
Now, I’ve got to put things in comparison. C met me when I was 19, and I am now 29. I look *nothing* like I did at 19 – THANK GOD! I was skinny beyond belief and my body hadn’t filled out yet. Sometimes when I look back at the photos of me during that time period, I wonder where my chin was. My face just looked angular, and my physique was only slightly better than an 8th grader at Boy Scout camp. I weighed around 185, and for a 6 foot 2 inch male with a size 13 foot, that’s a little on the lanky side. As the years passed, my body filled out to a solid 225 pounds, and although I probably won’t complain if I lost a little bit of body fat, I must say that I love my body so much more now than when I was 19. I look like a man now. I finally fill out a pair of jeans. I don’t have to dance around in the shower to get wet.
After a few days of soaking in C’s comment, I realized that he probably helped me out more than he hurt me. First off, I enjoy my body, and I enjoy the process of whipping it into top form. I’m not in what I would consider the best shape of my life, but I’m certainly not doing bad, and if I keep up with things, it’s only going to get better. Second, this body isn’t going to last forever. I can whip it into shape all I want, but when I’m in my twilight years, it’s going to sag and wrinkle and do all the other things that come with age. A lasting relationship cannot be built on a body alone because the body will eventually wither. Third, if C doesn’t like my body, then he did me a humongous favor by letting me know. If I had what I consider to be my “perfect” body, I’d probably shed about 15 pounds, but not much more than that…because once I cross that 15 pound mark, I start to look sickly. And inevitably, over the years, I’m going to have periods where I’m 15 pounds lighter and other periods where I’m 15 pounds heavier. But in the big picture, we’re talking about 15 pounds, which I think is just ridiculous if that’s the single criterion one is using to turn down a date. If 15 pounds will scare off a guy, then he isn’t someone I would want to date to begin with.
To summarize my lesson learned by this encounter, I will not let someone else define how I should feel about my looks – that is up to me alone. I will continue to work on the parts of my physique that I feel merit attention, and I will celebrate my current accomplishments and future successes. Further, I will refuse to let someone categorize me solely by my body. I have two degrees, a fabulous job, incredible friends, and the best family anyone could ask for. I’m ridiculously fun to be around, and I’m also easy to get to know and get along with. I am smart and funny, and I’m sharply focused on not taking myself too serious. I possess an unquenchable desire to squeeze the most enjoyment out of life possible. I’m the kind of person a guy would love to take home to meet their mother.
Frankly, if C is going to overstep all the great things about me for 15 pounds, then I really should thank him for auto-removing himself from the pool of people I actually would date. Onward and upward!
Here's what Sam has to say today:
Dating in the straight world is hard, but take it from me, a card-carrying citizen of Gay Town, dating among gay men is just as brutal. It takes just as much dedication, openness, vulnerability and patience as dating among the heterosexuals. Just like our straight brethren, we gays also go on bad dates, make silly jokes and wonder why our date isn’t laughing, and meet people who look good on paper but turn out to be complete jerks.
Recently, though, I was reminded of one key element in gay relationships that I believe to be different than in heterosexual relationships: men are extremely visual. I believe men scrutinize a woman’s appearance, body, hair, face, etc., but I believe women are generally a little more forgiving of a less-than-perfect male physique. With gay men, though, there are two men sizing each other up, and in my experience it is less likely that gay men are as forgiving as our female counterparts to pardon someone who falls somewhere south of an Adonis.
Several gay men want a guy who is, at worst, a 9 out of 10. Many gay men want a tall, broad, muscular stud with biceps for days, six pack abs, and toned butt cheeks that can crack walnuts. There’s no room for body fat, and by gum, you better wear clothes that cling to and accentuate every inch of that glorious body. In short, the body reigns supreme. If you have jacked up teeth and serve stank face but your body is a perfect 10, many guys will date you for your body alone. I can’t tell you how many Butterfaces I’ve seen getting hit on by other guys simply because of their chiseled physique.
Now this idea that gay men are extremely visual is nothing shocking. I’ve always known that men are visual. I am too. I mean, you have to at least have some sort of visual attraction to the person, or at least that’s my experience. But a quick look at some of the people I’ve dated over the years shows I’m not discriminatory of a good looking gentleman who has a little extra loving on his body.
However, the days of my youth are limited and I am now facing challenges that I never had to worry about previously. Most recently, I learned that my body was the challenge standing in the way of a date with a certain someone.
I used to have a slight crush on a guy whom we’ll call C, and he happens to work at the same salon where I get my haircut. I was making my regular visit to my stylist, Rigo, and the subject came up that I used to have a crush on C. Little did I know, Rigo, armed with the knowledge of my former crush was going to play matchmaker after I left the salon. A few hours after I left, I got a text message from C saying that he honestly loves being single but he would like to be great friends. At this point in time, the text message was completely out of the blue, but I just replied with a simple, “Oh, of course! I’d love that!” No harm, no foul.
Fast forward to the next time I got my haircut, I was telling Rigo how everything had gone down and that I was slightly embarrassed but more or less confused why C was even texting me to begin with…and that’s when it happened. Rigo, after asking if I wanted the honest truth, said that he approached C about my former crush, and the response was “Well…he’s kinda gained a little weight over the years.”
Jawdrop.
Now, I’ve got to put things in comparison. C met me when I was 19, and I am now 29. I look *nothing* like I did at 19 – THANK GOD! I was skinny beyond belief and my body hadn’t filled out yet. Sometimes when I look back at the photos of me during that time period, I wonder where my chin was. My face just looked angular, and my physique was only slightly better than an 8th grader at Boy Scout camp. I weighed around 185, and for a 6 foot 2 inch male with a size 13 foot, that’s a little on the lanky side. As the years passed, my body filled out to a solid 225 pounds, and although I probably won’t complain if I lost a little bit of body fat, I must say that I love my body so much more now than when I was 19. I look like a man now. I finally fill out a pair of jeans. I don’t have to dance around in the shower to get wet.
After a few days of soaking in C’s comment, I realized that he probably helped me out more than he hurt me. First off, I enjoy my body, and I enjoy the process of whipping it into top form. I’m not in what I would consider the best shape of my life, but I’m certainly not doing bad, and if I keep up with things, it’s only going to get better. Second, this body isn’t going to last forever. I can whip it into shape all I want, but when I’m in my twilight years, it’s going to sag and wrinkle and do all the other things that come with age. A lasting relationship cannot be built on a body alone because the body will eventually wither. Third, if C doesn’t like my body, then he did me a humongous favor by letting me know. If I had what I consider to be my “perfect” body, I’d probably shed about 15 pounds, but not much more than that…because once I cross that 15 pound mark, I start to look sickly. And inevitably, over the years, I’m going to have periods where I’m 15 pounds lighter and other periods where I’m 15 pounds heavier. But in the big picture, we’re talking about 15 pounds, which I think is just ridiculous if that’s the single criterion one is using to turn down a date. If 15 pounds will scare off a guy, then he isn’t someone I would want to date to begin with.
To summarize my lesson learned by this encounter, I will not let someone else define how I should feel about my looks – that is up to me alone. I will continue to work on the parts of my physique that I feel merit attention, and I will celebrate my current accomplishments and future successes. Further, I will refuse to let someone categorize me solely by my body. I have two degrees, a fabulous job, incredible friends, and the best family anyone could ask for. I’m ridiculously fun to be around, and I’m also easy to get to know and get along with. I am smart and funny, and I’m sharply focused on not taking myself too serious. I possess an unquenchable desire to squeeze the most enjoyment out of life possible. I’m the kind of person a guy would love to take home to meet their mother.
Frankly, if C is going to overstep all the great things about me for 15 pounds, then I really should thank him for auto-removing himself from the pool of people I actually would date. Onward and upward!
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