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Once Again into the Breach --
7-24-04
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week I had a date with a guy I met on one of those online dating sites.�
We corresponded by e-mail for a couple of weeks.� I liked him and
always looked forward to his next e-mail, but I began to notice things
in my behavior that worried me.� If he went a day without e-mailing
me, I began to obsess about why he would do that.� Within a few hours,
I was convinced that he'd moved on and was beginning to convince myself
that I really wasn't interested anyway.
��� Throughout our correspondence, I also found myself
looking for things in him that were signs... clues, if you will, indicating
that he wasn't really what I wanted after all.� When he did a Mickey
Mouse impression over the telephone the first time we spoke, it embarrassed
me.� And when he told me that his nickname was German for Batman,
I really began to think I had myself a geek on my hands.
��� I suppose I should mention that I'm something of
a "freak."� Allow me to define my use of the word.� To
me, a freak is a person who strives to live outside the realm of what's
considered normal.� Most people claim to be non-conformist, but lets
face it, even if you have a mohawk, that doesn't make you non-conformist
if you hang out with a group of people who also have mohawks and refuse
to do anything that might make them turn their backs to you, even if it's
what you really want to do.
��� I am a college graduate, in graduate school, have
been teaching for several years, but I definitely march to my own drummer.�
I have my own philosophies.� Most people think I'm uptight because
I don't drink or do drugs and am not really amused by toilet humor or crude
joke of a sexual nature, but I just know what I like and don't feel a need
to submit to someone else's standards for the sake of fitting in.
��� In any case, I'm usually attracted to freaks.�
I like men with both ears pierced and long hair.� I like men who are
confident enough in themselves to dress up in outrageous costumes for no
apparent reason and go out on the town.� I like men who are tormented
by passion deep within themselves.� That's what I find attractive.
��� This guy was one of those types.� His hair
came to the middle of his back, dyed black.� He had a nicely groomed
goatee, pierced ears.� He was politically aware.
��� On the way to meet him for the first time, I rolled
over in my mind all the reasons why I shouldn't consider dating him: he
impersonates Beavis and Butthead; he hangs out with a large concentration
of Goths and it's been my experience that Goths can be overly dramatic
in large gatherings; I'm just not ready to be in a relationship again.
��� We went to the Legion of Honor in San Francisco.�
We discussed the paintings and sculptures.� We oohed and ahhed over
the 18th century furniture and decor.� We picked which pieces would
go in our dream homes if we were uber rich.� When he stood next to
me, I felt like an arc of electricity was shooting between us.� Like
if he actually made contact, I'd overload and black out.
��� After the museum, we went to the Palace of Fine
Art and walked around the pond, looking at the ducks and fish, and talking
about lots of different things.� We talked about books and places
we'd like to go.� I told him how much I was enjoying myself and he
told me that he was having a good time as well.
��� As we headed to lunch, we began to discuss things
like love and marriage.� It wasn't that we were considering getting
married, but the subject just came up.� It was here that my bitter,
cynical side came out and I said something about not having any sympathy
for married folk.� He asked me why and I said, sarcastically, "because
I'm bitter and jaded."� I then went on to tell him that it isn't really
marriage that I have a problem with, but that I think people get married
for the wrong reasons.� He asked me what were the right reasons and
I said I didn't really know but that I think it has a lot to do with meeting
each other's needs.� He told me that people should get married because
they're truly and passionately in love.� I told him that I agreed,
but that love isn't enough.� Lots of people fall in love, but end
up destroying each other.
��� Then he told me he thought there should be chemistry.�
I had a sinking feeling that, at that moment, he realized there was none
between us.� At least on his end.
��� We went to lunch at a vegetarian Chinese place.�
I'm not vegetarian, but I'll try anything.� I asked him to order,
because I had no idea what I should try.� He ordered veggie sweet
and sour chicken, brown rice, fried tofu cheese rolls, and vegetarian duck.�
Aside from the sweet and sour, It all tasted like overly cooked egg, to
me, but I didn't complain and I continued chattering my head off.
��� Long story short: any electricity that built between
us at the Legion of Honor seemed to have dispersed by the time we went
to a movie that evening.� I still had my hopes, but as I sat next
to him in the theater, I got the distinct impression that I was making
him feel crowded.� And when the movie was over, he just took me back
to where my car was parked.� I thanked him, and he hugged me and then
walked away.
��� When I got home, I had an e-mail from him telling
me that he thought I was wonderful and that he'd had a good time, but that
there was just no spark for him.� I knew it, but it hurt just the
same.
��� I've been stuck on him ever since.� I look
for excuses to e-mail him and/or call him, but thank the gods, I haven't
done either, yet.� I don't know what's wrong with me.� I've been
dwelling on this for a full week.� I keep trying to figure out what
went wrong.� Did I only imagine the initial chemistry?� Was he
surprised that I am not slender?� Was it my cynicism that turned him
off?� Am I not enough of his definition of freak?
��� I really don't know what happened, but in the hours
of endless obsession since, I've realized a few things that really terrify
me.� I don't believe in fairy tale love anymore.� I avert my
eyes from happy couples, newlyweds, and glowing pregnant woman, under the
guise that I believe it's all false -- they're all soul-less zombies with
painted smiles, going through the motions of living without really doing
so.� But the truth is that I want all those things so badly that I've
stopped believing in them for fear they'll never come to me.
��� I've been in relationship after relationship with
men who took advantage of me and drained me of every ounce of life.�
They weren't entirely horrible, because there were times when we had great
fun together, but the reality is that my needs were never important to
them.� They always thought of themselves first and foremost.�
It was exhausting taking care of them and myself.� So much so that
I had decided that I don't want to give birth to a child, but would rather
adopt, because I didn't think I'd have the energy to take care of a man
and an infant and a home.
��� Yesterday, I checked my messages and saw that Goth
guy called me but didn't leave a message.� It sent me into such a
tailspin to see his number on my telephone, that I fell right back into
the funk I'd been in when I first got his e-mail.� Why didn't he leave
a message?� Was it a mistake?� Had he meant to call some other
girl whose name starts with the same letter as mine?
��� So I asked myself what it was about him that made
me like him so much.� This is what I could come up with: he's playful,
he has a decent job, he has a really nice smile, he has good oral hygiene,
and he opened doors for me.� I honestly can't think of anything else
other than that he was cute and was into playing dress-up, which I find
attractive.� It can't be that difficult to find men who brush their
teeth and work for a living.� And yet I feel like he was the last
one who will ever give me the time of day.
��� Deep inside, I truly want to believe that there
is a man for me who shares my interests, passions, and desires; who has
my sense of adventure; who knows how to take care of his responsibilities;
who treats me like a lady; who wants to be a real father; who is an attentive
lover.� But when I look myself in the eyes, I don't really believe
it.� I can't believe it.
��� I really want to be proven wrong. |
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