Boy #1: The Hottie
While out with good friend last Friday I was summed up by him more succinctly that in any of my best self-analytical moments. As we ate Gelato in the unseasonably chilly spring air he stated, “You need a little friction in your life to be happy.”
So while sitting there, between bites of Gelato, I realized how right he was and how that need for a friction has led me to cause many of my dating disasters.
To clarify, this friction doesn’t equal drama. I try to be a drama-free zone, though at times drama inevitably finds me (look for drama’s appearance in later entries). It’s not drama I crave, but that little spark that keeps me on my toes. And this yearning for that spark is what ultimately ended my brief encounter with The Hottie.
He was the boy that all the girls wanted. A GQ-reading, slick-dressing, confidence-dripping, ah-ha of a man that knew it. And somehow despite the chaos that is me, for at least a few weeks, I was the girl that caught his eye.
I had known him for a while before the idea of a date had ever crossed either of our minds. So when we finally met up for dinner, it was so natural and easy-going that by the end of the night I just had stir things up a bit.
So I insulted his TV.
Its been pointed out to me that, in general, it’s not a good idea to challenge a man’s electronic devices, especially when that someone has taken such great lengths in choosing his furniture, arranging his magazines perfectly on the coffee table, and remembering details like putting my leftovers in the fridge. But there his TV was, sitting in his pristine apartment and out came the statement: I proudly declared mine superior.
Gotta work on that internal censor.
He laughed it off with such ease that when he invited me over to watch a movie, I wore pants that shouldn’t see the light of day and didn’t even bother to brush my hair. I talked throughout the movie, and purposely set my glass directly on the coffee table as a test to see if he would place a coaster under it. He did, by the way.
And I just couldn’t stop there. I raided his video game collection and proceeded to explain why I needed at least one of his games to the point where he would’ve probably given me half of his games if I had pushed him. And I even left my favorite movie in his care even though I knew I wasn’t getting it back.
When he didn’t call the following week I didn’t mind. When he didn’t respond to my text, I didn’t care. I knew that we didn’t have any staying power. He didn’t call me not because he didn’t find me interesting, but because he’s not the type to hang out with someone consistently.
And I was fine with that. But then I went and told my girlfriends about him.
Sometimes good intentions can develop into our worst enemies. I heard every reason why he was a jerk, why I should care and by the end of the week I did care. Not because I was losing him, but because I thought I should care. I picked apart every moment I had spent with him until everything was raw and I had the friction I was looking for.
In reality he’s a great guy, funny, intelligent and independent. While I wished I understood this need for friction before I leapt headfirst with him, I still would’ve reacted the same way and said that same things. But I might have a friend right now instead of just a story and a memory. In the long run though, being true to yourself is more important than attempting to salvage something that doesn’t exist.
Oh, and for the record, my TV is better.
So while sitting there, between bites of Gelato, I realized how right he was and how that need for a friction has led me to cause many of my dating disasters.
To clarify, this friction doesn’t equal drama. I try to be a drama-free zone, though at times drama inevitably finds me (look for drama’s appearance in later entries). It’s not drama I crave, but that little spark that keeps me on my toes. And this yearning for that spark is what ultimately ended my brief encounter with The Hottie.
He was the boy that all the girls wanted. A GQ-reading, slick-dressing, confidence-dripping, ah-ha of a man that knew it. And somehow despite the chaos that is me, for at least a few weeks, I was the girl that caught his eye.
I had known him for a while before the idea of a date had ever crossed either of our minds. So when we finally met up for dinner, it was so natural and easy-going that by the end of the night I just had stir things up a bit.
So I insulted his TV.
Its been pointed out to me that, in general, it’s not a good idea to challenge a man’s electronic devices, especially when that someone has taken such great lengths in choosing his furniture, arranging his magazines perfectly on the coffee table, and remembering details like putting my leftovers in the fridge. But there his TV was, sitting in his pristine apartment and out came the statement: I proudly declared mine superior.
Gotta work on that internal censor.
He laughed it off with such ease that when he invited me over to watch a movie, I wore pants that shouldn’t see the light of day and didn’t even bother to brush my hair. I talked throughout the movie, and purposely set my glass directly on the coffee table as a test to see if he would place a coaster under it. He did, by the way.
And I just couldn’t stop there. I raided his video game collection and proceeded to explain why I needed at least one of his games to the point where he would’ve probably given me half of his games if I had pushed him. And I even left my favorite movie in his care even though I knew I wasn’t getting it back.
When he didn’t call the following week I didn’t mind. When he didn’t respond to my text, I didn’t care. I knew that we didn’t have any staying power. He didn’t call me not because he didn’t find me interesting, but because he’s not the type to hang out with someone consistently.
And I was fine with that. But then I went and told my girlfriends about him.
Sometimes good intentions can develop into our worst enemies. I heard every reason why he was a jerk, why I should care and by the end of the week I did care. Not because I was losing him, but because I thought I should care. I picked apart every moment I had spent with him until everything was raw and I had the friction I was looking for.
In reality he’s a great guy, funny, intelligent and independent. While I wished I understood this need for friction before I leapt headfirst with him, I still would’ve reacted the same way and said that same things. But I might have a friend right now instead of just a story and a memory. In the long run though, being true to yourself is more important than attempting to salvage something that doesn’t exist.
Oh, and for the record, my TV is better.