you write the moral, and I’ll write the lesson. we could read a love that kept us guessing.
i’m a story teller. i believe in connection through words. through detail. through interest and intrigue. through sharing. if you know me in real life, you’d probably say that this is an understatement.
i am obsessed with the story. any story. i want you to want to know every detail. it’s how i connect. i want to tell you things. i want to share, and explore, and feel like you hear me, and understand me, and imagine being there. or appreciate the serendipity, or agree that we are all here, interacting with one another for a reason. and it’s important to me.
i want to hear your stories. small or large. i want the details. i want to know what things you will emphasize, what things you value. what you notice, why you care… about life.
this weekend i was talking with an amazing girlfriend of mine about dating. shocker. and i told her a story, about a boy. and she told me one. and she said most matter of factly, “of course it’s about the story. when is it not?” and for some reason it hit me. she understood. really understood. it IS about the story. it’s not that we all want some romantic comedy like meet cute for because it’s romantic. well, there is nothing wrong with that even. it’s the story that begins “us,” as friends, lovers, soul mates, as fateful friends. and she and i, this nbff (newbestfemalefriend), we have a good story.
women often share stories and secrets in relationships with one another. it’s how we connect, and support one another. men often do things together, play sports, or give advice. gendered communication. it’s all there, whether it’s socialization or genetics the research has been done.
but what my friend said to me, and how she said it, made me feel like someone finally got it. that telling stories, the story, isn’t about me being a female, and telling secrets is what we do on the playground. it’s bigger than that.
and it suddenly came to me, everything i know about story telling, and creating a narrative, from an academic perspective. when thinking about dating, i often reference, in my own brain, things i learned in grad school. i don’t know why it always surprises me. i mean, isn’t that the point. to learn, remember, and apply? well, yea, every emotion i have is processed through this crazy rational virgo filter, and often times using academic research is what makes me feel more healthy about about being so pragmatic.
the narrative. it creates meaning. it provides us a view to understand how we see ourselves in a larger group (society). it gives us a space to emphasize who we want to be. the parts of us, and things we’ve done of which we are proud. stories allow us to test our normalcy in relation to the rest of society.
by telling a story, we are sharing ourselves. whether outwardly, or cryptically, we tell stories to connect. to share our hopes, and dreams, and wishes. to show faith in the universe. to understand our place in the world. the art of storytelling is much more than just an art. it is what keeps society moving. stories of what was, what could be, and will never have to be again.
stories provide us frame of reference in which to relate to one another. we find common ground through the telling of our story, and we gain interest in hearing others.
this being said, no wonder i’m obsessed with storytelling. in general. and more importantly, no wonder i’m obsessed with “the story.” the how we met story. it’s a way of showing exactly when the connection started.
most surely, the few boys i’ve swooned hard for, have a brilliant story attached. there is something romantic about the way events unfold with passion and caring and attraction and mystery creased into every page.
romantic |rōˈmantik; rə-|
adjective
1 inclined toward or suggestive of the feeling of excitement and mystery associated with love.
there you have it- romantic is the feeling of excitement and mystery. and those feelings are felt, not given. not attributed. being romantic is not something that it can be learned, or enacted. it is the excitement of life, and every crazy messy turn it takes. and when there is connection to be made with someone else, with whom you are attracted and compatable- that is romance.
and with all of this glorified unpacking of the concept of the story and its function in relationships, it becomes obvious- my obsession with the story. in general. in life. in love.
my love for storytelling (which i am only now starting to identify as such and embrace, own, and love) comes from the excitement of watching the universe unfold in front of me every second of the day. each event adding meaning to another. that the story developing in front of us is a sign. that this is all deliberate. and precise. that this is exactly where we should be. and what should be happening.
i have some good stories to tell from how my life has evolve thus far. but what excites me is waking up and having the possibility to create more.
the possibility of creating and continuing ‘our’ story. the one with twists and turns of serendipity and kindness, not so random winks from the universe, challenges and successes.
and with this, i am positive, not hopeful, that when ‘he’ finds me (or the page turns in an existing narrative) ours will be an anecdote with the elements of legend. because, though i need to keep modesty afloat and use the word ‘hope’ when i refer to how it will unfold, i already know. because if nothing else, he will embrace, love, and value the construct of a story as much as i do.
the story of the human race is the story of men and women selling themselves short. -abraham maslow
playing with your words, a girl and two headlights, blinders on the interstate… we want the good life.
ok, so about 9months ago, on a rainy saturday afternoon my friend did something silly. after bullying me about joining match.com, and me refusing (no judgement just this, and this and this prove it’s not for me) repeatedly, he signed me up.
he created an account, filled out the profile with his best ‘me’ impersonation, included the requisites (ice cream, love love love, bike rides, parks, place pigalle, astrology, and laughing), uploaded photos from fb and that was that.
then he told me to go on it. that i’d like it. i’d get hooked. i was skeptical. and played around for a few days, logging in to see who looked at my profile. but after a while (read: two weeks tops) it just didn’t feel right. i wasn’t responding to any of the emails. because, well a) i hate formal dates, and b) i wasn’t interested in any of the guys. something like 35 emails, and none of them seemed right. and then i started to get down on myself. and blah blah blah remembered why i don’t do online dating in the first place.
i hate dating. in it’s formal and totally awkward sense. because, well, i have absolutely no idea how to act, and i focus entirely on making sure that everything is good for the other person, and i have extreme weird issues with the rules of a date like paying and making plans, and then um the goodbye. dear lord. it is all so whacky that i become some crazy cuke that looks like steph, sounds like steph, but is absolutely NOT steph. so WHY would i do all of that when the person i’m on some sort of set up date with would not even get to experience me?
also, i’m a sucker for words. i obsess. can’t get enough. so really, it’s totally crazy for me to be reading 75 perfectly crafted paragraphs written by you telling me all about you. because i like stories, and writing, and words, and meaning. so i’m all outta whack with my ‘into you’ radar right off the bat. it’s like excitement transferral. i mean, let’s just say it how it is. most likely i don’t like you (sorry, it’s just rare that i like people, trust me, it’s worse for me, a curse in fact), but i like the fact that i am reading antagonizingly written prose. carefully crafted words.
so yea. for all of those reasons, i completely forgot all about match.com and my friend’s little experiment. until a few days ago.
i have no idea what made it pop into my head, but i remembered that silly day in march and logged in the account (that’s name is totally NOT wholesomemidwesterngirl sounding, ps.).
and i started spiraling through all of the same crazy thoughts that i tempered above. and then, before logging off, i decided to do a search. for men, in my area, with my physical, personality, educational, and recreational preferences.
and that’s when i got it. what i needed from the silly site. after perusing through the 200 profile photos and 20 word descriptions, coming up basically dry on anyone i’d even be interested in meeting, i remembered that all of these guys are out there ‘wanting it.’ believing in relationships, and dating, and looking for a “cute girl who I can hold hands with at the farmer’s market” or “Someone that I can make laugh and visa versa. Someone with a good head on her shoulders (keep up in intelligent conversations as well as goofy banter)” or “a woman that is charming, intelligent and beautiful, with a sense of adventure” or however else you want to say it. and they are trying. and going for it.
and though this realization didn’t make me change my mind whatsoever about the rightness, or lack thereof, that i feel about online dating, it did give me an overwhelmingly rejuvenating kick in my dating reset button for good old twenty ten.
so yea. he’s out there. waiting to serendipitously experience our meet cute. and with him i’ll get drinks. i’ll get dinner. i’ll go to a baseball game. i’ll go for a trip down the coast. i’ll get bi-rite ice cream and spend the afternoon in the coffee shop reading. i will go on ‘dates’ that feel right, and know they’ve seen the actual steph. cause there is way more cuke to this girl than meets the eye.
so thanks match.com. not for any actual dates, but the refill on hope. and i’m ready, 2010, for whatever dating life you throw my way.
but i’m in so deep. you know i’m such a fool for you. you got me wrapped around your finger…
so i payed depaul university a whole hell of a lot of money to make me read way too much and force me to write paper after paper. thereby forcing me have multiple fits and breakdowns during many many finals.
and a few years later i said, oh four years of that wasn’t enough, i’ll go back and do it again for two more. with quadrupole the reading and writing expectations, for a low low price of 50% more than the first time.
at least i have a piece of paper on the wall now that calls me a ‘master.’ i mean, honestly, that’s cool.
my point is, and my my mother will be the first to tell you, that grad school writing was the bane of my existence, and caused many a late night breakdown session filled with questioning how i’d ever finish the ninteyfivepage paper that was due the next day. and here i am, nearly two years after being handed that piece of paper, desperate to write as often as i can.
even crazier, desperate to explain, theorize, categorize, and rationalize every single thing that happens in life through writing. i am officially an academic geek.
i had this realization (and acceptance) when i spent entirely too long this week examining my fake character movie crushes of the mid to late nineties.
it started when i read a very funny, and um, oddly thought provoking piece of writing, which discussed some of the greatest movies from my child-to-adolescence-hood. one of them being camp nowhere.
i loved this movie. and drew’s post about it sparked instant memories with their associated feelings. and my mind started spiraling into analyzing those memories. i specifically remember watching it in like 5th or 6th grade on new years eve while i was babysitting. and i remember crushing so so hard on mud. and then i remembered that i felt like i was supposed to like andrew kegan’s character. but i just liked mud. the geeky, small, long haired idea man (kid). and i began to think that this was probably some pretty heavy foreshadowing on ‘life’s’ part.
i then began to think about all the other childtoadolescencehood crushes i had.
nick from ‘my girl 2′ (same year) (same long hair)- shyer kid that falls for the independent, determined, mind made up well spoken vada.
john baker from ‘boys’- (long, less mullety, hair) shy geeky prep school boy changed by the mysterious mature patty (winona ryder) who shows him that he can stand up to his dad and be a man.
josh in ‘clueless’- um, uber geek college boy that wears flannel, can’t dance, and is a smarty that is going to be a lawyer.
cameron in ten things i hate about you- yes, i had a crush on joseph gordon levitt over heath ledger. the dorky, adorable boy who, shocker, was in love with the totally hot popular girl and said things like “and i’m back in the game!” when she pays him an once of attention.
mark in ‘empire records’- goofy nerdy guy that is not the hot dude the chicks want. giggles a lot.
preston in ‘can’t hardly wait’ (ethan embry round 2)- not popular guy that has fallen for the prom queen beauty, writes her love notes and gazes longingly towards the sky when he hears a song with her name in it, and honestly cannot imagine life without her.
max fisher in ‘rushmore’- duh, long haired geek that is overly involved in school and falls, yet again, for a completely unavailable woman (teacher) and wholeheartedly believes his life will end without her. goes to great lengths to do things for her so that she will like him in return.
ok. you get the point. from these i pull out a few major themes that have proven to translate perfectly to my life as a dating adult.
i like boys that fall for girls that are opposite of me (read: popular prom queen beauties) (i’m also not saying they wouldn’t like me, but they have no idea what to do with someone like me) (the older i get the more i rid myself of this one, phew).
i like boys that are smart and geeky. period.
i like(d?) long hair. hey it was the 90s. and oh so cute. and let’s be honest, i’ve been more than interested in more than one guy in my adult dating life that has had as long, or longer hair than me. (i can only explain this by directing attention back to the fashions of the mid to late 90s.)
before i started writing this i tried to really think about why it is that i go for the geeky type. now, this being a blog, and me living in san francisco and being friends with about a gazillion tech industry people, the geeky thing is probably not even confusing for a lot you. but for everyone else, yes, i have been trying to figure out the geek thing.
and then i realized. i don’t have to. it’s all right here, ENACTED in the movie that sparked all these thoughts. mud and gabby make a pact that they will only date ex geeks when they actually start dating. because only exgeeks will really understand them. bingo, understanding. common ground. i wouldn’t call myself a geek when i was young. cause that doesn’t fit. but i definitely wasn’t the tall skinny popular blond cheerleader that all the boys pined for. um no. i knew who i was, and wasn’t afraid to show my uniqueness… in a world where that makes you very misunderstood. so that’s why i go for the geeks. because not being instantly understood in life builds character. and strength. and self-acceptance. so by the time said geek is an adult, geekiness is pretty darned attractive because it goes hand in hand with self-understanding, strength, acceptance and respect for difference. whoa. i just pulled all of that from a crush on jonathon jackson in 1994.
(veryvery long sidenote: after making the pact to only date exgeeks they have a moment where they ’shake on it’ and realize their feelings. and watching that as a way too old to admit this adult, i seriously get giddy watching them go through that moment of butterflies. cause THAT is what dating is all about. that moment of butterflies when you think the other person feels it too, and you aren’t sure what ‘it’ really is, but know that you like it, and want to feel it more. yea. we forget about that stuff as adults that drink too much and have important stuff like paying bills and opening mail that’s piled up for 4 weeks to do. we forget the good old fashion butterflies. hop straight to the good old fashion banging. watch it 7:50-9:50. it’s perfect. the best two minutes of well, right now.)
which leads to the second main theme pulled from my childhood movie crushes. that i (still) have a thing for boys/men/guys that swoon. that show it. that believe in relationships and love. i’ve discussed it before, my obsession with married men (because they BELIEVE in love and commitment and relationship), but this just goes to show how deep and far back this thing really goes. my overall obsession with guys that SHOW their swoon. show their infatuation. write it in letters. express it through music. talk about it out loud.
so there you have it. a lot of words to come to two conclusions that had already been made. well, at least i’m consistent.
in related news, im semi ecstatic for the new TNT tv show with ray romano called ‘men of a certain age.’ i think this also highlights my over the top interest in adult mens’ relationships and getting to hear and analyze their thoughts and emotions towards those relationships.
until next time, i remain single. and watching movies from fifteen years ago. having a crush on a 14 year old boy. um, intervention?
do you have to, do you have to, do you have to let it linger?
last night i left my credit card at the bar. i was sober. and tired. it was one of my favorite bars so i called at 1:54 when i realized that i left it, which was as walked in the door to my house. so today i had to go back to retrieve my trusty companion.
i decided to bring my camera. and am i ever glad that i did. the perish trust, an awesome antiquey store on divisadero, was open. i strolled in to peruse the typewriters, as i always do, and was just consumed with love for the place. per usual. and then i just went for it and asked. i said, “do you mind if i take some photos in here?” and he said, “oh of course not. i mean, this is the magic time. with the sun where it is, and all.”
this distance in your realization in the the way you’ve been, no one can be so cold and be without skin, but it’s been hundreds of years and there is no care
i don’t know where my propensity for attracting all things awkward in my life comes from, but it’s there. and as someone who attracts awkward and uncomfortable things, i have come to expect them in all cases. like, i am a weird on the phone talker. i would rather text. i am UNBELIVEBLY awkward hanging out with someone for the first time, romantic or platonic. i don’t know what it is, but i FIXATE on the utmost possibility of awkward in any situation and assume that it is what i will be involved in.
i suppose that is the reason i attract all things awkward. i am fixated on them, assuming they will happen, and thus attract them.
i guess being a communication scholar has given me the disposition of someone studying the patterns and behaviors of people. so much, in fact, that i view all interactions (my own included) as awkward because it is like i am seeing them in slow motion, applying communication and psychology theories to real life interactions at all times. (#academicgeek)
but thankfully, universe, you have shown me the light. it seems as though lately, since i’ve moved to the wild wild west, i have unconsciously, and probably with some weird form of protestation, actually been attracting amazing, genuine, kind awesome people into my life. and i am FINALLY opening my eyes to what a world beyond awkward looks like.
and as our unconscious minds are usually seventeen steps ahead of our conscious selves, i guess six months after experiencing these relationships i am consciously ready to give up the underlying social anxiety that comes with living in an “all awkward all the time” world.
at first i thought it was the type of people i was meeting in san francisco. this magical little town is comprised of 90% non natives with like minds, that are attracted to a place where innovation, support, open mindedness and success are cornerstones of living. and i had not previously lived in a place where such a large percentage of the population “got it.” so i chalked it up to the universe guiding me to the exact right place for me.
and that is by no means false or any less important now that i ALSO realize that i have outgrown being awkward at all times. but i now know that it is not just san francisco. cause lately, and oddly, i have found that i am opening myself up to much more genuine and non-awkward relationships with people that do not live in san francisco.
i’ve always had this weird habit of connecting with boys that live in other cities. and i could see how that was possibly a way of putting up a wall on letting things be easy, natural, genuine and not awkward. i made it so that whenever i saw these people from other cities the awkwardness would be sooo monumental that when i ‘plowed’ through it i felt excited and alive and rejuvenated. and that excitement transferred to my feelings for that person (holy shit. sometimes when i apply theories to my own life shit becomes so clear). whoa, not quite over the fact that i just typed that rational understanding of something i have never been able to really pinpoint. deep breath.
but lately, it seems as though i am having these honest, real, amazing connections with people in my city and others, without ever having to plow through any awkwardness. and it is so unbelievably…. nice. that is the only way to put it. nice. it is a calm connection. there is no earth shattering excitement transfer. i guess feel like i am opening myself up to people with a less guarded disposition. and creating amazing connections without awkwardness.
is it possible that i have outgrown my “all things awkward” lifestyle?
separate love from addiction, they’re not the same, i know i see desperation pulling my strings…hey eliza, is this what you want? sometimes you compromise to get the things you need…
so, maybe i’m from the olden days. or have some weird outdated and skewed vision of men and relationships. but i have this weird skepticism of men and love. i mean, that they want it. believe in it. care about it. but i have NO idea WHY i feel this way. my dad is the most sensitive romantic love believer ever. it must go back, again, to the ex. who flat out doesn’t believe in love (ha). who broke up with me. who thought emotions, having and expressing, were signs of weakness. (ps. he wasn’t all bad. i have just, thankfully, wholly realized how not very relationship compatible we were).
so, in my brian, emotions=girliness=weakness=not good. and thus my unique obsession for guys that believe. and in this oh so funny way that the universe works… it seems as though i am presently SURROUNDED by those men that believe. i have been talking multiple guy friends through breakups recently. how it will all work out. how they will love again. how she wasn’t the love. how being single is not so bad. in fact, it is good. and healthy. and how i know what it is like to have heartache but it will go away. all of these things. and it is, honestly, confusing, and uplifting, and schema shattering.
i was talking to a group of guys this past week and one of them said, “i have never broken up with a girl. i have always been broken up with.” and i was shocked. because 4 of the 5 guys at the table had the exact same experience. and then i got to thinking. i can count 8 guys in my life that have been broken up with over the last year/6 months. and they were all heartbroken. and when i expand the time frame i begin to think about alllllll the good guys i know that have been broken up with.
and i have tons of guy friends. all of which talk openly with me about their dating lives. and how they want to make the right next move and are looking for that perfect girl, and believe in the power of a relationship. but i never seem to hear these things and think that i will ever, umm, have one of those guys. it is like they are two separate things in my brain. the majority of guys in my life wanting and believing in relationships, and how guys act in relationships. so, i guess i am finally starting to really let go off this outdated idea in my brain that in a relationship the guy is going to be less emotional, less expressive, less open to love. and open myself to transferring the relationship experiences of my friends into my brain’s image of what a relationship should be.
there are guys out there that believe. in love. in relationships. in working for it. in making it happen. and i am friends with a million of them. now i just need to learn to believe that i deserve the same. and attract one of those types to be my boyfriend. ha.
why don’t i just give in, have a drink and shake some hands?
beggars can’t be choosers. we’ve all heard it, said it, and probably felt it at some time. but i have a tendency to hold myself to this ‘philosophy’ when in a healthy world i’m probably not being fair to myself.
so i am going to my hardest to rationalize to my psyche and to the world why the phrase- beggars can’t be choosers- is NOT appropriate in the dating world.
it seems as though the longer when we ‘long’ for something and don’t get it the closer and closer we get to begging for it. but, when it comes to a someone to date, or be romantically interested in we cannot let our brain fill in the gap with the rest of the phrase (we can’t choose).
it’s my personal philosophy that we cannot help who we like, or who we are attracted to. it’s just in us. it seems like it is still one of the most instinctual things about us. or maybe not. maybe with the paradigm shift from economic partnerships to ‘love’ based partnerships we created this ‘instinctual’ attraction button. (anyway, i digress). i subscribe to the idea that connection, attraction, and ‘it’ is just there for some people and not for others. it’s not personal who we find attractive, or ‘romantically funny’ (rather that platonically) or whatever. it just is. i like you. or i liiiiiiikkeeeee you. its one of those intangible things that separates the two. and therefore, it just is what it is.
SO. when my rational brain is creeping closer and closer to ‘beggar’ status with finding someone (the one?) to date… it unconsciously and rationally reacts in a ‘can’t be chooser’ way. for example- this week i was at a big concert (baracknrollsf.com) and per usual, a few gimlets in, i began to cut a rug in the the front of the huge venue. (apparently i “cut a few rugs”) so when i was finished and sweaty (by no means glistening) and this boy came over to chat me up i was shocked. as i wiped the rug cutting sweat from my brow he explained that he loved my dancing, my style, blah blah and would love to hang out sometime. now. this boy seemed cool. but the second he started talking to me i knew i wasn’t attracted to him. but when he asked me for my number i found myself giving it to him. and making plans…?!? (what?!) my inner voice was SCREAMING “you’re not interested” but it seemed as though my rational brain had plans of its own- being deprived of all romantical male attention for so long and all. so i gave my number to a boy who had a ‘fro twice the size of mine, and that i could be fine with never seeing again.
now. i am SURE that all of your rational brains are kicking in and saying “steph! you don’t even know him. he could totally be great but you’re never going to know cause you wrote him off as not interested.” and lecturing me on not being open minded. when really it is the classic “beggars can’t be choosers” phrase that you want to scream at me.
but you know what. screw that. love, relationships, dating, attraction- if we don’t demand what we want in these categories there is no way in hell that someone else will demand them for us (ex: you’re all probably thinking that i should have given that guy a shot). so as hard and irrational as it will be, next time a guy asks for my number (hahahahahahaha!) and i am not interested, i am not going to give it to him. i’m going to ignore the ‘can’t be choosers’ voiceS in my head and spare us both the awkward no call back later.
we can’t help who we are and are not attracted to. and we all hope to find that one that we are hopelessly attracted to in all aspects and have them feel the same way. but until that comes i’m not going to ‘try others on for size’ when everything in me say i’m not interested. be it rational or irrational. because, in all honesty, i’m not even a beggar. i just live in a society that makes me question myself, and self worth every moment of life, and that promotes the “beggars can’t be choosers and you’re looking pretty close to a beggar cause you’re single” mentality.
oh la we’ve got a lot to learn from each other. we’ve got to stick together.
so there is something very telling about people. and their interest in you. definitely romantically, but also platonically. and this little something is one of those things that is so very apparent that i think sometimes we (me) purposely avoid seeing it in our relationships.
i have a tendency, wait… had a tendency, to put in the majority of the effort in all my relationships. especially in the early stages of romantic ones (ok, and in friendships too). and i suppose part of this is because maybe i wanted ‘it’ more. the ‘relationship’ the ‘friendship’ the …connection.
when i meet someone that i think i want to get to know better (whether or not i have decided i want it to be romantical yet or not… well especiallllllllly if i want it to maybe be romantical) i usually want to know everything about them. so i ask. about everything. and this is the get to know you period. the opening up.
but there is this tell tell tell tale sign that i am on a different page from them in the aim for connection story that i seem to always and conveniently and unconsciously deny. when they don’t ask back. they don’t want to know everything about me.
i mean we all like to talk about ourselves. hell, i write a blog about myself. it’s easier to talk about ourselves. we know the subject so well. it doesn’t even take concentration. and when someone else is leading he conversation by blatantly asking us about ourselves then hell… it’s even enjoyable. but there is this unassuming sneaky situation that i seem to get myself into all the time- asking all the questions, learning all the info, and never being probed. and i seem to settle for these types of relationships. well did.
and usually i get the slap in the face i had been ignoring once i acquire everything about them i need to know to be sure that i ‘like’ them. what i am really engaged in is a one way relationship. one way knowledge sharing. one. way. interest.
i don’t know WHY i do this. but like i said, i do it with all types of relationships. i feel as though what i have to say is not valuable. and forget that someone may actually want to know about me. and go on creating these relationships where the other person feels great and loved and paid attention to and acknowledged and validated. and then there is me. and usually i don’t even get to the “and then there is me” point. i just go on unconsciously getting none of my relational needs met. continuously entering these types of relationships cause they are all i know. thereby feeding the self fulfilling prophecy of a relational schema.
so, i think for the most part, at 25 i can finally see this pattern starting at the beginning of a friendship and can cut it out (hand motions included). and have even slowly weened past friends like this out of my life. and i am so lucky to have a group of friends that ask me questions about my life, and care about what i have to say and how i feel and yea.
but, the romatical side of this little relational habit is more difficult to break. but there are just sometimes where i step back, gain some perspective, and say… wait. a. minute. and unfortunately at this point the only one with anything ‘lost’ is me. my time. my energy. my efforts to get to know the other. they haven’t put anything in. and therefore have nothing lost. actually they probably unconsciously gained from me praising them with interrogating attention.
so it sucks when i realize that, yet again, i am putting in all the effort in the preromantical relationship. because, ultimately, all it means is that they are not interested in getting to know me the way that i am them. because. when you are interested in someone, you want. to. know. them. everything about them.
and it’s funny. i have this vision of my perfect partner. and one of the main things about him is that he gets me, or wants to, and doesn’t misunderstand me. or my thoughts, or my needs (if i admit i have them, which, to my perfect partner i will, because he will care). but for some reason this image of the PP doesn’t make it into my everyday reality. we think out of context and act in context i suppose. but it’s weird how instinctually i internalize this as the image of a relationship. someone that calls me to talk about them. someone that waits for me to text them. someone that continuously lets me ask them to hang out. someone that will probably not ‘get me.’
and it’s also sad that when this isn’t the case, my whole mind body and soul get so excited they don’t know what to do. but talk. and keep talking. and it is at those times where i am speaking so passionately and am an consumed with someone wanting to know about me that first i stop- and ask “oh my god, do you even care?!” and then i apologize for speaking so passionatley about my life and goals and loves, and then internally mull over the interaction later and ask myself why i am so surprised when someone DOES ask about me.
this exact situation happened to me a little while back. someone asked me about my writing, and explained that he really got it. and was asking me all these questions about my goals and dreams and i found myself 3 beers in SO enthusiastically BLABBING about my life that i stopped myself midsentence and blurted out “oh my god! do you even care!?” (i was SO used to someone not asking that out of shear excitement i couldn’t stop myself from speaking) and his response was so perfect. so stop-me-in-my-tracks-and-get-it inducing that sometimes i repeat these words to myself to regain confidence and trust in the universe that there are people out there that want to know, and ‘get it.’ he said, quite simply, “no, you’re right. i don’t care. can you please tell me about something you’re NOT passionate about. tell me about something you are really indifferent about.”
so. in my intense longing for connection i tend to idealize really normal things, believe that one way relationships where i put in all the effort are the usual, and deem my desire to have someone know me unimportant.
i’m sick of asking all the questions. of putting in all the work. and i have no one but myself to blame (well, my psyche). by (unconsciously) creating this relational habit i have in turn attracted only these relationships into my life. and if these are all i’m getting IRL (in real life) i might as well sit in my bed and stalk cute boys on facebook all day. cause, essentially, i can learn everything about them from the internets that i would by asking questions, and create a one way relationship in which they know nothing about me and i am left dreaming of a day where they would want to know me.
so what is worse. actually having relationships, one way as they may be. or, waiting, longing and hoping for a boy who wants to know what’s going on in the crazy mind of steph. sigh.
the way you keep your distance is keeping my interest so i’ll keep it persistent
so we all know my weird obsession with communication theory, and using said theories to rationalize my emotions that spiral while riding the dating roller coaster. but it seems, as i’ve said before, that we are constantly entering muddy territory when it comes to the way we communicate in romantic relationships these days. and it’s been postulated that email and technology is creating a whole new range of miscommunications in the workplace. but what about technology in the romanticalplace?
for once i’m not going to talk about social media. i’m gonna go simple this time and ask… what is texting doing to our relationships?? i have had a few specific conversations lately with people who have intensely fallen for someone via text. um, myself included. and keep weighing the pros and cons of this little piece of mobile technological advancement and again, it seems that there is this weird catch 22 about texting in the beginning stages of dating… or even getting to know someone non romantically.
so, my cynical mood lately means i’ll start with a con. i mean, honestly, texting is an outright loop hole in accountability. it’s cheating. it’s easy. there are no voices involved. there are no pre phone call jitters. and texts can be flat out scripted. you can ask your friends if a text is “cute and clever” prior to sending. they can tell you that you sound desperate, or passive aggressive, or perfectly flirty, or appropriately vulnerable. and as i am writing this i realize. this is exactly WHY it seems that so many people i know ‘fall’ over text. because it IS scripted. you can make sure to ‘write’ exactly what you hope to be. rather than saying what comes out right then. text relationships are built on showing our ideal self. we try to be the most witty, the most nonchalant, the most cute, the most interesting, open, amazing person we can be. because we have time to plan. to scheme. to think about what we want to say, and how we want to say it. and so do they. so i suppose it makes sense that so many people i know have really felt connected to another romantically strictly via text conversations.
and i mean. i guess this isn’t bad. some people are shy. and texting allows these people to maybe say things they normally wouldn’t to someone’s face or through the phone lines/waves. because they can plan what they want to say they actually say it rather than letting shyness overcome them. it allows people to overcome time zones and scheduling conflicts. and it allows little bits of unexpected communication to come through. but does it allow people to be cowardly when a phone conversation is in fact appropriate? and now a days, with picture texts we don’t even need to verbalize what we are doing to someone, we just need to send a photo. a picture says a thousand words right?
but don’t words, spoken words, still serve a purpose when getting to know someone. isn’t the point of having a vulnerable conversation ‘verbally’ because you are connecting over the mere fact that you are opening up and putting yourself out there as well as the subject you are actually talking about?
so i’m torn on how i feel about texting and dating. in some cases it allows you to get to know someone in a less vulnerable way, encouraging you to open up more with out such consequences. get to know someone that is possible unavailable to see physically, or talk to on the phone. get to know someone when you may have been too shy to otherwise.
but it also allows you to create this fantastical relationship with the person on the other end of texting. because you can script what you want to say. you can wait before replying. you can ask other’s opinions. and to me… this seems dangerously unfortunate. because it’s obvious why texting has become a tried and true method of getting to know someone. there is less rejection. there is less vulnerability. there is more romance. there is more ability to be the person we hope to be (not just reacting to our environment).
and the rules of texting are really unclear. you can say you mistexted something if you feel embarrassed that you said it. you can claim to have never received a text if you want to avoid the subject. you can reply when ever you want, minutes or hours later. or never. and never touch the subject of the unanswered text, because god knows the person looking for an answer is not going to bring it up out of shear embarrassment of no response. smiley faces and exclamation points carry immense amount of weight, and less can be more or a very bad sign.
and i will most certainly not even begin to speak about drunk texting.
so my attempt to analyze the pros and cons of texting in dating has, yet again, turned into a clusterfuck of positive and negative uses of communication technology creating the ever eloquent and romantic catch 22 of information sharing enroute to connection. sigh.
i wanna know what it’s like on the inside of love. i can’t find my way in, i try again and again.
it’s interesting. the posts that i think are the most crazy scatter brained confused steph seem to get the most comments, the most input and i am shocked.
so i’m going to write about the only main thought i have on my mind today: fear. i’ve been spiraling into confusion and low self esteem, and frustration with dating and playing the game. but when i strip all of that away. and think about it. i’m scared.
as of right now. i honestly (gasp!) don’t want to meet anyone. because i am terrified. of losing myself. of being rejected. of letting someone in. but most of all, of being misunderstood. with starting a new life and all, i’ve met a ton of new and amazing friends. but as it is with anything new, i am constintanly having to define myself and my values and my beliefs and my thoughts and my emotions. and because i have been blessed by the universe, most of them get about 90% of what i have to say. but there is always that awkward moment of misunderstanding and that snippet in time leaves me raw and vulnerable and scared and alone. but we are always trying to explain what’s going on up there to other people. that’s what relationships, platonic or romantical, are. sharing that leads to connection.
but there are those people in that come into our lives that we long to have understand us more than others. that we want to understand who we are. many of the times these are people we like or are interested in liking romantically. but what makes the presence of these people in our life so different than explaining ourselves to friends?…. attraction?
why is it that the romantic feelings make rejection and misunderstanding so much more terrible. and terrifying. it took me well into my adult life to accept that some people are just not going to like me, ever, no matter what i say or do. and that was a hard lesson. but that lesson applied to romantic interests is torturous.
i’m the biggest believer in the universe and that things are going to be how they are meant to be. and that ultimately, we as dating humans cannot help who we like. so what is my problem? why am i, personally, so scared to like someone? well, rephrase- why am i so afraid of the rejection that comes with liking someone romantically that does not feel the same way? this is a huge case of cognitive dissonance. i believe one way, and act another. i act out of fear- i do not let my self ‘fall for’ or open up to potential romantic interests because i am afraid of being rejected. but i know, honestly, that it is not me personally that they are rejecting.
i guess that doesn’t mean that rejection doesn’t still hurt. whether or not it was purposeful. actually, that is another lesson i am working on in my adult life. allowing myself to feel something like sadness or pain even if i understand completely why the person that sparked those feelings did what they did. so in my crazy brain i know and understand that we can’t help who we like romantically, and therefore do not allow myself to be sad about the fact that someone may not like me back. but it just sucks. ok? this is not a pity party.
opening up is hard and scary. and it sucks to find someone that you want to tell everything. that you want to want to know you. and they do not feel the same way. it hurts. it’s saddening. it makes you question your worth. your direction.
so that’s that. i know it will come to me. and i know the person that comes with that love will want to know everything about me. and will understand, or try, or accept everything that i am. and will be as excited to see me as i am them. and think that i am as smart and funny and cute and enjoyable to be around as well.
but that doesn’t mean that i am not allowed to feel sad, or frustrated, or scared in the mean time… okay?
