Mostly girls

And then are the days where you talk to your best friend for four hours about anything and everything and it all seems clarified just enough that blogging about it might make it tangible enough to make sense.

Which is to say, Sarah is awesome, and sometimes I don't even know how much I need her until days like yesterday, where I picked up the phone not even really wanting to talk, but knowing I should. And then, within minutes, I'm sitting there thinking “this is exactly what I needed.” And four hours later, the same thing: “Thank you so much; you don't know how much I needed this.”

For those that are not quite in the loop, I suppose I will fill you in a bit. A while ago, I sort of spontaneously decided I was in a spot in my life that I was comfortable dating again. Of course, this decision by itself means very little, since it's likely that I would have started dating a long time ago had any parties expressed interest, but hey, this time I was going to take some initiative. That's right. Me. The person least likely to take initiative, and the least likely to approach people, was going to try and meet girls. Oh boy.

Naturally, I turned to the internet. Because what else is an introverted person supposed to do these days? Just go up to someone and start a conversation? I don't think so...

As usual, the internet had the solution to all of my problems. Advice, sure, but also dating websites. So I joined one. And you know what? I'm amazing at online dating! And you know what else? I sort of hate it.

According to the people I've interacted with, I'm attractive, intelligent, funny, and overall, a pretty great person. While that sort of validation is nice, there's always a disconnect. This is going to sound arrogant, so of course I'm going to say it anyway: I think I'm too good for online dating. Which is what Sarah helped me to sort of clarify on the phone. I'll explore this more in depth in a little while, but I've met three or four girls online who all seemed somewhat promising. I've been on a good number of dates. I don't really have trouble getting people to meet up with me, which, from everything I've read, is supposed to be the main hurdle of online dating.

Here's the thing: I look really good on paper. At first, I was worried that I wouldn't translate that well in person, and I'll admit I botched a couple of dates because I just didn't know what was going on. I'm confident in a lot of contexts, but I suppose the only time I'm not confident is upon initially meeting someone. Which is fine, except that I AM confident when I'm typing, so people get a pretty mixed signal when I'm a bit cocky in my profile and messages, and then a bit meek upon first meeting. The first two dates I went on were for coffee, which in theory is fine (I didn't get coffee, of course, but whatever), but sitting across a table staring at someone is sort of the exact opposite of what I'd like to do while trying to get to know somebody. So I changed things up a bit and started meeting people for walks, which has made a world of difference.

I am funny. I am clever. I alternate arrogance with self-deprecation, and poke fun while still being genuinely interested. I am great at this. And I still hate it. There are three separate stories here, all with different plots. I'll take them in chronological order:

1. Star Trek (ST)

She looked amazing. She had a funny profile, was very attractive, and best of all, was very honest. I sent her a long message to start things off, because I was still getting my feet wet, and I figured demonstrating my ability to write, my intelligence, and my genuine interest would be a good route to take. (And it is, don't get me wrong. However, it also intimidates some people, so recently, I've been sending medium-length messages focusing on a few key points and demonstrating a bit of wit. But back to the story.) She was impressed. Which is good. I'm impressive. All was going well. She was so impressed, we exchanged emails within the first couple of messages because we were obviously hitting it off and moving to a non-dating-website-intermediated method of communication made sense. We emailed over thirty times in the span of a couple days. Long emails, covering a wide array of topics, from her passion for fandom (writing sex scenes for movie/tv/book characters), to our worst characteristics, to our struggles with depression. It was honestly the best series of emails I had exchanged in a long time. She was forthright enough that I felt uncomfortable, which I loved. I enjoy being pushed to consider things I wouldn't normally, and her comfort discussing difficult topics (or in the case of her gay male sex scenes, topics that are just not normally talked about so matter-of-factly) was fantastic.

We met up. This was one of the coffee dates, so obviously it didn't go well. I feel so on the spot. By the time we changed locations, I couldn't undo the damage that had been done. She later told me she had decided right before that date that she wasn't actually ready to date yet (having gone through a difficult breakup recently), which I'm assuming wasn't a line, because she deleted her account online right away. Not that she couldn't have created a different account or something, but yeah. Anyway, she said she wasn't interested in me romantically. This is going to be a trend, so you might as well take note of it.

2. Cosmetician

Her profile wasn't as good. She didn't look as cute. But she messaged ME first, which counts for a lot in my book. Knowing someone is interested is amazing. It means I don't feel like I've somehow tricked them into liking me through any misrepresentations, and it means there's a better chance that she will forgive a transgression or awkward misstep. We messaged a bunch of short messages. I was funny. She gave me her number. We met up. My first walking date. I killed it. I was hilarious, we laughed, and learned about her family, her past, and probably learned a little too much. I have a good memory. This comes back to bite me later. Who'd have thought?

She was also from Ames, Iowa. Common ground, right? We knew some of the same people, we had some funny stories to share, and everything was awesome. She was also incredibly cute in person. She had a lot of stories about how people she had dated were awful. I was decidedly not awful. We had such a good time on our walk that we went to get dinner. We had such a good dinner that we went to get ice cream. We had such a good time getting ice cream that she drove the opposite direction from my apartment so the night wouldn't have to end. Eventually, it ended, and I asked if I got to kiss her. I did. She said, and I quote “I can see why that gay boy kissed you!” Trust me, it was a compliment. (Also, I've been kissed by a gay boy. Also, it wasn't half bad. More on that later if there is any demand for it.)

I was on cloud nine. I was so happy, I didn't mind that I was using cliches in my own brain, which is really saying something. We set up a second date for a week later. I remembered she had mentioned wanting to see the new Fast and Furious movie. I threw in a restaurant I like in the area, and the plans were made. She showed up late because of traffic. I didn't care; there was a bookstore close by, so I just hung out and realized how much I missed reading. We ate, exchanged a few stories, and she drove us to the movie. I had walked the four miles to the restaurant because it was a nice day and I felt like it. I remembered that the automatic lock on her car door didn't work. She was impressed, but also seemed a little uncomfortable. I told her I had listened to some music by her favorite artist. She smiled.

The movie was good. She leaned into me, and we made funny comments to each other. We left, and she drove me home. I asked if I had earned a third date, and she said I had. We got stuck in traffic and I made a comment about how it wasn't a big deal because I didn't mind spending more time with her. She said I should try and be more mysterious.

The moral of the story is that I apparently came on too strong. The combination of remembering everything and showing interest, I guess? I don't know. All I know is the next night she texted me she didn't think we should see each other again. I asked some follow up questions (of course), which were met with the most generic answers available. I longed for forthrightness. I suspected she had found someone she considered more promising. I showed the messages to some people, all of whom thought they were weird and agreed that she was just making excuses for something else. Sarah said she thinks that my character probably made her think of things in a serious way faster than she was ready. I tend to agree. If someone who is used to going on casual dates from online dating meets me, it's probably not that surprising that I'm a bit of a shock to the system. I don't really screw around. I'm honest, I don't really mince words, and I'm happiest when I'm not playing games. (Not literally. Actual games are great, obviously.) Our theory is that she realized I was different and that I wasn't someone to see as casually as the other people she had been seeing, and she decided she wasn't ready for that. Which is depressing, on the one hand, because I thought that the point of dating was to see if there was potential for a real relationship, but on the other hand, I can't really hold that against her. And I am definitely not interested in changing that aspect of who I am. Which is why I'm sort of giving up on the dating thing. But there is a third story, though it hasn't quite been completed.

3. Enthusiasm

If you haven't figured it out, the titles are just my first impressions of them. And boy was (is) she enthusiastic! Quick to compliment, happy to talk, and funny in her use of capitalization, exclamation points, and parentheses (I know, I know; obviously I have a predilection toward a good pair of parentheses...). Our messages were in the middle ground. Not long, like with Star Trek, and not casual, like with Cosmetician. Goldilocks would be proud. We met up for a walk. I was funny. I poked fun a bit more than usual, but she took it well. We didn't really talk about anything “serious,” but it was a good interaction. I learned about her roommate situation, we discussed the appropriate size for dogs, and all was pleasant. I wasn't entirely sure how to evaluate, but at the end of the date I asked how she would like to conclude, proffering the options of a hug, a kiss, or just cordially walking away. She chose kiss! So I guess it went well? (Also, it was a pretty good kiss. At least on my end. She didn't compliment me like Cosmetician though...)

The reason this is an ongoing story is that we haven't seen each other again, despite this (presumably decent) date occurring quite a while ago. Since then, I have sort of come to the realization that online dating is probably not the route I should be taking. Talking with Sarah really clarified things, in a way, because while she was lavishing me with a steady stream of compliments I realized that a lot of them were true. I am a genuine person. I am not frivolous. And I am probably not what people are expecting when they are looking online. I do not do things partway. I am decidedly all or nothing. And this is not conducive to the approach facilitated by online dating. I can't just meet people for the sake of meeting them. I am always going to be looking for something concrete, and I'm always going to be hurt by rejection. Of course I can rationalize it. I don't take it personally, and I certainly am not scarred or even much worse for wear having tried online dating. But I don't think it's the right way for me to go about things.

I still plan on seeing her again, of course, if the string of excuses for not meeting ever ends. I assume they are legitimate and that we will meet again soon, but it's been a while and I'm afraid it will feel like starting new, which I don't know how to handle. She said she is also not experienced at dating, but I don't really know what that means. I guess I'll play it by ear. (Dating really lends itself to cliches.)

I wish the story of my emotional tribulations ended there, but believe it or not, people in “real life” are confusing too! I don't know who reads this blog anymore, so I don't want to be too specific, but...

Actually, when has that every stopped me before? I'm just going to assume that if you're reading this, you probably are doing so because you know me, and I'll ask you to use a bit of discretion. It's not that hard to figure out who any of these people are. If you have talked to me fairly recently, you know them by name, so really, this is probably old news. But anyway...

Sarah is the thread that ties this post together. Have I mentioned she's great? It's true. So we were talking, and I mentioned there was this girl. Well, two girls? Well, I'll get to that. There's this girl. She plays handball. I think she's cute. I don't ever act on these things, because I'm a rational skeptic. But I've talked to her because... well, because she's cute and nice and I sort of like her. So we've interacted in the past. I've mentioned I like her to my “teammates” (as much as handball can have teammates). One of my teammates then told her I like her while he was (very) drunk. He reports her response was “I know.” Again, he was drunk. However, he then asked me if he could ask her out. I responded (in typical fashion), that of course he could ask her out. I have no claim to anyone in the world, much less this girl in particular. I even threw in something to the effect of “it would be silly to let something trivial stand in between you and someone you are interested in” because I enjoy reveling in hypocrisy. So he did. They set up a date for this past weekend.

Friday night rolled around, and all of a sudden, he asked me to join them. I was quizzical. He said “sometimes two people are just better off as friends.” I smiled to myself (internally; externally, I just raised my eyebrows in a way that was hopefully more “knowingly” than “incredulously”), and said sure.

Don't worry; it gets better. Friday night was also the night somebody collapsed on a handball court. Here is the sequence of events from my perspective:

1. “Someone collapsed and is having a seizure! Call 911.”
2. Many people are obviously already calling 911.
3. I think to myself “Oh, that sucks. But that has happened before. Hopefully he recovers.”
4. I go back to watching the match in front of me. I figure everyone else has it under control. I don't have any special training and am unlikely to make anything better.
5. “Someone find an emergency kit. We need to shock him!”
6. I sprint around the place, find one, pull it out of the alarmed case, sprint back to the court, unzip the defibrillator case, and set it next to the people who are obviously more knowledgeable than I am.
7. “We need to get his shirt off. We need a knife or some scissors!”
8. I pull out my pocket knife and cut off his shirt.
9. I leave after it looks like they know what to do from there.
10. He gets put in an ambulance.
11. I go on with my life.

I mention these things because later that night I have an excess of energy. I'm not playing in the tournament because I'm injured, but watching everyone play and the bit of adrenaline from trying to help out has me a bit amped up. So I'm in a court hitting the ball left-handed (because I've hurt my right shoulder), when who should enter but the girl in whom I am still idly interested. (That's right, sometimes I decide grammar matters enough to use phrases like “in whom I am still idly interested.” That's what makes me special.) We hit the ball back and forth, but we are both injured, and it's a bit silly. One of the guys in charge of the tournament comes to the door and opens it, and I'm ready for a lecture about how we're not supposed to be in the court, and definitely not supposed to be hitting without eye protection. Instead, he thanks me for saving that man's life. RIGHT IN FRONT OF THIS GIRL! I couldn't draw this up any better, right? I say I didn't do anything anyone else wouldn't have done, and he insists on giving me credit, saying that he wouldn't have survived without having his heart restarted. I feel pretty damn good.

We all go out that night. It's fun. I show off a lot. My teammate lavishes me with praise, complimenting everything from my athleticism to my intelligence. (Actually, that's sort of all there is to compliment, huh?) We talk about nerdy things like neutrinos, distorting space time, eugenics, graphene sheets, fascism, and science fiction. I manage to have something to say about all of these topics. I contribute discussion based on the articles I'm writing about economics and the FDA. She contributes with discussion of cancer and the lens of the eye. I manage to chime in with a relevant comment concerning retinoblatomas. I'm in my element. (I'm beginning to think I have a lot of elements.)

All is well. We walk my teammate back to the place he's staying, and I walk her back to her car. I take the opportunity to ask why she came out with us. She says she hasn't really spent time with people from the University of Minnesota, and she figured she should get to know us. I mention that my teammate asked me before he asked her out because he knew I liked her. She was unfazed. Nothing. She gave me a one-armed hug when we got to her car. Girls are confusing. I assumed that my subtle acknowledgment would trigger something. Anything. At the very least, it was an opening for her to say she either liked me or didn't like me, right? But nothing? Crafty...

And believe it or not, there is (at least) one other story to tell, though this one will be substantially redacted. There's a girl who seems interested in my while she's drunk. “Very interested” shall we say? Read into that as much as you want. Call me if you want more details. I talked to her while she was sober recently, and she said that not only did she not want to date me, she didn't eve like me! I mean, I don't blame anyone for not wanting to date me, but I don't know how to react to the not liking me thing... There's more to this story, but I just figured I would record my confusion in case you weren't fully able to appreciate the extent to which I have been stretched to my limits recently.

Also, school is a thing. And so are the sports I play.

Nobody who knows me will be surprised that I am a bit behind in school but probably going to catch up in time to not have anything bad happen.

Sports are a bit more interesting, but not quite as easy to talk about in an interesting way. Since my last post I have 1) failed at collegiate nationals 2) played frisbee in Vegas 3) played state doubles and gotten injured and 4) tried to become uninjured, and failed a couple of times.

I failed at nationals because I put too much pressure on myself. Weird, right? I'm not giving up, though. It's weird how once you have certain abilities, so much of success boils down to the mental component. It's true in every sport I've played. Even in card games. Mentality matters. I need to figure mine out.

I suppose I could go more in depth into the trip to Vegas where I met my soul mate. His name is Matt, and he's fantastic. He's forward enough to make me slightly uncomfortable, but understanding and compassionate enough that there isn't any worry about divulging. He's smart, athletic, and supportive. And we've kissed. What more could I ask for? Also, this makes me realize that I have a 100% success rate of kissing people I've danced with. I may have a previously-unrealized superpower! All in all, the trip was a resounding success. I am just hoping my upcoming trip is equally great. If so, I might have to give frisbee another shot!

Well, if this isn't enough of an update, I don't really know what would qualify. (3,700 words are nothing to scoff at!) I'm not sure how I feel about where my life is at the moment, but I'm probably not too unhappy with anything. I live in a constant desire for transparency, but I am also probably not very transparent myself, so it's probably another hypocritical desire. Sort of like how I hope people read this, but I don't update it and even when I do, there are people I still hope don't read it. Fantastic.

Also, how funny am I? My title refers both to the fact that the post is mostly about girls, but also hints at the fact that my new husband is a man despite my heterosexuality. I'm great. Pass it on.