Trying a New Attitude

A dear family member of mine, who has lived the full and adventurous life of a single girl straight into middle age (with a few relationships thrown in), just shared with me that she’s met the man that she’s going to spend the rest of her life with. A friend of mine told me about a friend of her family who, in her 50s, after fully expecting to be single all her life, fell in love and got married. Another friend of mine met and started dating her future husband when she was 17. Seventeen!

What do I take from all this? We don’t get to choose when we meet the people that we are going to fall in love with. We can be open to it, we can try to be ready for it, but the when is beyond our control.

I hope I don’t sound self-aggrandizing when I say that I am driven. Not driven to the point where I can’t enjoy a good vacation or lazy morning in bed, but a general overachiever. A driven friend of mine (birds of a feather!) who is also single describes our situation like this:

    We decide that we want a relationship – we are ready to fall in love and we just need to meet someone to do so. We send it out to the Universe: “I am ready! Send someone!”

    Three minutes go by.

    “What the hell, Universe?! I said I’m READY!!!”

Oh driven friend o’ mine, you are so right. Something that we want is out of our control, and we don’t do well with not accomplishing our goals, however much our goals depend on the spontaneous arrival of unknown people.

So with this, I am ready to try on a new attitude. It goes like this: I am going to meet someone wonderful and we are going to fall madly in love. I don’t know when, but it is going to happen.

And, like any driven girl would, I have already deliberated and determined the pros and cons of such an attitude.

Pros: I can relax more about dating now, since I am going to fall in madly in love with someone at some point, so there’s no pressure to try to make a particular date work. Also, singlehood changes from this lifestyle that I may or may not have for the rest of my life to a temporary situation, giving me leave to indulge and make the best of it. (I think I am doing this already, but taking away the prospect that I might do this forever would make it less…gloomy.) Plus there’s the general good feeling that there’s someone out there for me. And complete wonder what that person is like. I’m envisioning a tinfoil hat.

Cons: I could be wrong and be single forever. (Hey, a new attitude doesn’t forfeit my ability to reason!) But what if I am single forever? Will I find myself on my deathbed cursing the attitude that misled me into thinking that I was going to meet someone, when this attitude allowed me to be happier along the way? Even if it misleads me I will still get the benefit of thinking that it’s not a matter of control or anything I should or shouldn’t be doing, but a matter of timing. Which I guess is another pro. Huh.

And I could always ask the doctor at said deathbed to marry me. Or maybe the nurse. And the nurse can read me steamy love poems in my final days. Oooooh…I’m liking this plan.

But don’t worry, dear readers: I am not of the belief that I should now just sit back and wait for my love interest to enter stage right. I still need to put myself out there, which is sure to entail more misadventures in dating!

The F Word

Remember Ham Radio Girl? She and I had three dates before our summer travels happened to line up so that we weren’t in Madison at the same time for over a month. And leading up to our first date in over a month, I was sending myself mixed signals.

Yes, you read that right. I was sending myself mixed signals.

The night before the date I discovered myself doing a lot of grooming, including some personal grooming, as the kids say. While I am against shaving (why would I want to look pre-pubescent and have a razor so close to the nerve endings that really count?), I am not against some mowing. It’s just for practicality, really. If a Prince or Princess Charming wants to go down on me, I don’t want them to have to fight through the brambles to get there.

But was Ham Radio Girl Princess Charming? Was I just being a good girl scout, or was I preparing for something that I hoped would transpire?

If I was, I completely contradicted myself on the day of our date. Signs I gave myself that I was not excited about this date:

1.) During the day, at least three times, I thought, “What should I do tonight? Oh wait, I can’t do anything fun. I have a date.”

2.) When she emailed me to say that she couldn’t stay out too late because of an obligation the following morning, my reaction was, “Oh good, I can go to bed early.”

3.) Making any changes to my appearance didn’t even cross my mind. Although, to be fair, this could also stem from learning that she was close to being legally blind.

But then she walked into my apartment with her ham radio clipped to her hip (she had just been storm spotting) and was soon giving me her big-eyed look that says, “Tell me more about what you were just talking about but ended politely because you thought I might not be interested.” And I remembered why I like her.

As we were catching up, we happened to come upon the topic of children. My future does not include children. Hers absolutely does. To the point where she loves surrounding herself with them as much as she can.

“Wow,” I said. “That seems like a crazy amount of children to me! I cannot even comprehend that.”

Brief pause as major incompatibility has just been thrown on the table.

“Well, it’s a good thing to have friends with a variety of perspectives, right?” she asked, clearly trying to be upbeat.

“Right!” I said, trying to be just as upbeat. But what I was really thinking was, “She just said the f-word.”

While the conversation turned to something else, I stole moments to sit back and squint at her. I knew the door wasn’t completely closed. While we’re not long-term material, there were all sorts of other term-lengths to consider. Did I want one of those lengths? Was I attracted enough to her to make a move?

I think the fact that I had to sit back, squint, and try to answer that question with the logical part of my brain was my answer.

So I guess that's that. But don't worry: I am going to get my ham radio license.

Home Sweet Madtown

I had an interesting experience returning home from my travels. The last leg of my journey involved me, a huge pack, and State Street. State Street at 1 a.m., to be more specific, packed with the late Saturday night crowd.

First, I have to comment on fashion. This is an incredibly rare thing for me, as fashion and I have never hung out together. But the latest style for women appears to be this: a bag-like dress that is extremely low cut, as in low to the point of fear of witnessing an accident, with a shapeless waist but showing a ton of leg all the way down to Cleopatra sandals. First of all, if all you women wear this I can’t tell you apart. Second of all, you’re all wearing goddamn BAGS.

But I am sure my pleas will go unanswered, as this fashion seems to have its desired effect. They got the attention they wanted. In watching all this I discovered that men have corners; not in the way women have corners, but these men absolutely have catcalling territories.

I passed a bunch of these men, each with a separate corner on State Street, each just standing there catcalling women. I couldn’t imagine what on earth was motivating them since, let’s face it, none of them are getting laid tonight. There isn’t a woman in the world who is going to watch a guy catcalling every single girl he sees including all the girls in front of her and all the girls behind, get across the street and stop, turn around and think, “That man is discerning and has excellent judgment. I think I’ll take him home.”

Well, maybe these men do have some judgment, because not a single one of them catcalled me. It was odd to be in a parade of women on State Street and have every woman up until me catcalled, and have the catcalling continue seamlessly with the woman behind me. I had somehow made myself invisible, a feat with such an enormous pack.

I was not offended; rather I was grateful to be left alone after a long day of traveling. And I instinctually knew that it wasn’t that these men didn’t think I was attractive. I don’t think it’s beauty or body type. I think it’s attitude and advertising.

These women, with their bag dresses and Cleopatra shoes, were advertising that they wanted attention and wanted to be found attractive. With my pack and sneakers, I was advertising that the only reason I was on State Street was for the fastest route home.

But it was striking to be completely invisible. I began to think about all the women who don’t consider themselves attractive, who hide themselves in drab clothing and feel their fears are confirmed when men treat them as invisible. But it's truly not whatever physical thing it is that they think makes them unattractive. I could prove it to these women, too. All I would need are some Cleopatra shoes and dresses that look like bags. 

Single Girl Traveling – Part 3

That’s it. I’m moving to the frontier.

On my recent travels I found myself in what one would call a frontier town. While having all the necessary amenities like flush toilets, sidewalks and bingo, this town is the realization of getting away from it all and starting a new life. And it was packed with men.

The gender imbalance was enormous and evident. And tremendously satisfying. “Now Single Girl,” I hear you ask, “why do you care? You’re bi!” I have often heard this before, often with the phrase “you’re doubling your odds.” I’m afraid the math says differently.

Less than 10 percent of women identify as gay or bi, and truth be told most gay women are only interested in other women who identify themselves as gay. It’s some identity thing with a club and a secret handshake that I never learned. Being bi, while incredibly fun, only adds a handful of women to the pool of men.

Since the sheer math of meeting people plays a big role in finding somebody compatible, it felt a bit exciting to be in a town with the odds stacked so in my favor. While I was used to Madison and its seeming dearth of eligible men, the tables were turned and I was the rarity. Yes, more than once the saying, “The odds may be good, but the goods may be odd” came up, but hey, this was just a vacation! Let me enjoy being drooled over before returning to the land of slim pickings!

To find out just how much the odds were stacked against me, I decided to do a little demographic digging. And, because I’m a dork, I graphed what I found:

Wait...what?! Are you seeing what I’m seeing? (And I’m not referring to how pink is women and blue is men. Those are just the colors that excel chose, and I’m not smart enough to figure out how to change them.) There are MORE single men than women in my county! Where the hell are all these men? Scattered everywhere but Madison? Is there a convent for men in the corner of the county that I don’t know about? Do you have an address?

Damn facts messing with my theory! I guess I can’t complain that the odds aren’t in my favor. But here’s what truly startled me about this graph: look at that angle toward zero! I now have graphic representation of the shrinking pool of candidates. Great.

Screw this. I’m moving to the frontier.

Single Girl Traveling – Part 2

Oh air travel, how I love and hate you. I love you for taking me to beautiful, far-away places and for being a giant, still-unbelievable-no-matter-how-many-times-I-fly experiment in Bernoulli's law. But make no mistake, I hate you. For all the typical reasons people hate you, and for playing such a sappy part in so many movies. And, most recently, for making me sappy.

On my recent travels I found myself reading in the window seat as an attempt to block out all around me. (There were at least three crying children and I had nothing to shove in my ears. Except maybe pretzels.) The man next to me was sleeping, and as I turned a page I accidentally brushed him with my elbow. Worried that I might wake him up, I scooted over even more.

“How strange,” I thought, “that at this moment I’m trying to avoid touching the man I’m going to marry.”

Um…what? Where the hell did that thought come from?! Perhaps it was some creepy corner of my mind, like where all of my knowledge of calculus is stored, trying to get back at me for its lack of use. Maybe it was that I was reading Jane Austen. Maybe it’s that the guy was just really cute and, apparently, that’s enough for me.

He struck up the conversation. He waited until I had put down my book (I had finished Jane Austen and moved on to Three Cups of Tea), mentioned that he had read it and enjoyed it, and even told me of its effects on foreign policy since it was first released. After telling me that he spoke Arabic and was on his way to Saudi Arabia to work at a University, I had a brief thought that this guy might be out of my league. Then I got really excited that he might be out of my league, and I started asking lots of questions.

He, in turn, was interested in what I do, asked for some books to read on the subject, and then gave me some recommendations of other books I might like. Visions of becoming across-the-seas reading buddies danced through my head, along with visions of having someone to visit in Saudi Arabia. To act upon this I gave him my card and told him to find me on facebook. He happily took my card, saying that he was looking forward to talking with me after he read the first book I recommended to him. I thought that was the proper response my future husband should have. (Again: what?!)

Why is it so easy to make connections while traveling? Low stakes? Captive audience? Oxygen-depleted plane air?

Well, perhaps it’s not that easy to make connections while traveling. It’s been over a week and no friend invite has appeared, and I fear that it is very unlikely I shall ever hear from him. Dammit for not taking his last name. Er, I mean…getting his last name.

Single Girl Traveling – Part 1

“…imbecility in females is a great enchancement of their personal charms, there is a portion of them [men] too reasonable, and too well informed themselves, to desire anything more in a woman than ignorance. But Catherine did not know her own advantages; did not know that a good-looking girl with an affectionate heart, and a very ignorant mind, cannot fail of attracting a clever young man, unless circumstances are particularly untoward.” Jane Austen, Northanger Abbey 

Oh Jane, you fellow single girl, how right you are.

I had a chance to prove this when camping on my recent travels. Nothing is quite the neon, flashing sign of singlehood like a woman camping alone: not only did I not have someone to camp with me, I have been single for so long that I finally said, “Screw it. I’m not putting off camping any longer just because I don’t have anyone to go with. I’m going.”

Perhaps it was me projecting, but I thought I read this train of thought on the face of a charming man I met just a couple sites down from mine. In that wonderful neighborhood spirit of, “We’re all in this together so we’re all going to watch out for each other” (no matter how brief the neighborhood is!), he and his two fellow travelers adopted me for the evening. As they were three interesting fellows, and could build one hell of a campfire, I was all for said adoption.

The two other men quickly mentioned their wives (thank you for being upfront with the oh-so-obviously single girl, gentlemen!), but the first charming man I met made no mention of any attachment, and the first half hour or so of conversation around the campfire made it fairly obvious it was game on.

I tried not to get ahead of myself. I tried not to think about how great a campsite hookup would be. I tried not to think about toned hiker legs, or how I had a two-person tent. You can see how successful I was in trying not to think about these things.

But nearly as soon as my hopes could leap out in front of me, they were dashed. A terrible thing happened. We started talking about the Electoral College.

Now, let me say that the conversation was great. Lively with differing views all around, and with plenty of respect to appreciate the other perspectives, although not a single mind was changed. Who knew an antiquated voting system would provide such entertainment for four people in the wilderness?

But for me and charming boy, it was game off. Maybe it’s just hard to flirt when debating. No, wait, I’ve totally pulled that off. I really believe that an unformed, moldable perspective that was grateful for his guidance would have been far more appealing to him than my formed and defended one. He continued to good-naturedly debate me, but it was clear he was no longer interested. The Electoral College ruined my chances at a romp in a sleeping bag.

Now, you might think that the lesson that I take from this is either that I am going to be single forever or I need to start playing dumb. I prefer this one: I’m now shooting for out of my league.

Seriously. Why not? I should choose a topic where I’m ignorant but want to learn, and find a genius in that field. My ignorance isn’t an embarrassment, it’s a turn-on!

If nothing else, this is a great way to prevent me from being intimidated dating anyone. Ignorance: lead me to bliss!

Now I’m Just Messing with People

This boy I am nicknaming Chip On My Shoulder, for reasons that will become abundantly clear. Chip sent me an instant message, which sent me to his profile. Here is my condensed interpretation of his profile:

About me: I am looking for sex. Who I’m looking for: Someone to have sex with. Interests: Sex. Additional information: I haven’t posted many photos on here because I don’t have any good ones of me, but if you ask me I’ll send you one. Also: sex sex sex sex sex. Sex.

While this is the abridged version, its accuracy has not been compromised. I found myself thinking, “There are people who just need to be messed with.” So I sent my reply:

Hi! Sorry I missed your message. As your profile offers, I would like to see more pictures of you. Naked, if possible.

Sometime thereafter he messaged me, and after the pleasantries were exchanged, told me he thought I was making fun of him when asking for nude pictures, and I turned to the heart of the matter:

Me: So here's my question for you:Chip: uh oh...Me: You live in [er…a place that is not Madison. –Editor]. I do not. You are looking for, as you state repeatedly in your profile, for a sexual relationship (which is fine). But do you expect me to put the time in to travel down to [place that is not Madison –Ed.] to see if I'm sexually attracted to you?

 He replied that this place that is not Madison is merely an hour away, and then said:

Chip: and even if you do have some distance issue, why be so feral about it?Me: Feral?Chip: I feel kind of.... attacked....Me: Oh! That was not my intention at all! In fact, I am approaching this entirely logically.Chip: oh, ok, I'm sorry! its just... people on here have been extremely mean to me, so I'm kind of on guard. no I get what you're saying, but its just... literally, I cannot find ANYONE in this town. not for sex, friendship, or even to smile at, so I have to look elsewhere though its bloody inconvenientMe: Oh, no worries. In looking for a sexual relationship, one needs to determine if there is attraction there. Given that we live an hour apart, wouldn't the fastest way to see if there is some attraction there is if you send me some pictures of yourself?Chip: I'm sorry to say I don't have any naked pictures... I'm sorry...the other pics I have contain other people which is why I didn't put them up hereMe: You know...most cameras these days have timers. ;-)

Okay…what the hell was I doing? I meant to just poke fun at him to hopefully get him to see how he was coming off to people, but at some point it just turned into me seeing if I could get him to send me a naked picture of himself. Did I start to feel bad for him and now couldn’t backtrack? Did I just want to see how hard it would be to get a guy to send me naked photos? What on earth was I going to do if he DID? Luckily, (or perhaps unluckily, I have no idea what he looks like), this never came to pass. The conversation turned to how he knew he had a nude picture of himself somewhere that he took when another girl had asked for one.

Me: And did it turn out well for you?Chip: sigh, it never does. I mean, not because of the picture, heh. Its been a good long while since anyone has been interested in me, I must admit.Me: Is that why you're primarily looking for sex?Chip: its part of it, yes. I want friendship, too. I just... I've been really burned by people, and I wanted to be totally honest that right now I want to have fun and get to the mindrape laterMe: Mindrape?Chip: sorry. I mean... I've had very bad experiences resultant of 'serious relationships.' I can offer friendship and sex and fun, but not what people seem to want in 'normal' relationships. I really have no money or anything like that... sorry...Me: Um...do you think I charge?Chip: no I mean... argh, I'm getting this all wrong!Me: :-) I like messing with you. You should have more fun with this!Chip: haha, I should be having more fun in general, I think

As attractive as thinking of relationships as “mindrape” is, I had to run, we said our adieus, and we left it at that. I didn’t receive any message from him (and definitely not any photos) and thought I was in the clear. A month or so later, out of the blue, he sent me another instant message:

Chip: hiMe: Oh hey! You! How are you?Chip: heh, yes me. I've been better, I must admit. but how are you?Me: Quite well, thank you. Enjoying a lazy day.Chip: its certainly inert, that's for sureMe: My goodness you are unhappy. Growing dissappointment with the town that you are living in?Chip: oh, its well past grown, actually. I'm not sure what's made me feel worse than usual today, though. maybe its because thanks to that holiday there's been four straight days that have felt like sunday and I can't stand the feeling of sundays. man I'm being swamped with pornbots on this site...Me: Pornbots?Chip: fake, scamming profiles that keep adding me to their list in hopes I'll click on the links they're putting in the profile they're making no effort to even pretend to look real. they're so common I've often thought this site was actually doing it themselves as sort of an under the table thingMe: Huh. Never come across one of those.Chip: its the only attention I ever receive, haha. so what brings you back on here?Me: Entertainment. Excitement. Romance. Stories for my collection. You?Chip: same as always

At this point, something in me snapped. I gave him nothing but optimism, and had he made an effort at cheerfulness I would have happily continued talking to him. Hell, if he wanted to meet me I would have given him a shot. But all I got from him was lazy whining. I wanted him to leave me alone. But the dangerous, self-indulgent part was that I wanted him to know why.

Me: Have you tried not being such of a downer? People might be more apt to respond positively to you.Chip: I've tried every approach. Cheerful, witty, weird, dadaistMe: And how long have you been at this?Chip: this site specifically or trying to meet people in general?Me: This site.Chip: hmm. when did this site start, do you know?Me: No idea.Chip: I'd guess I've been on here for at least five years. I've been trying personals sites online in general for far longer, thoughMe: Well, I have no advice for you. All I know is that you're coming across to me like you're pissed off and that you think the world owes you something. Also, unless you've changed your profile lately, if all you say is that you want sex, don't be surprised that women don't respond.Chip: you're being rude. I shouldn't have messaged youMe: k. bye!Chip: so now I'm going to block you. good day

Wait…did I just get blocked? Somebody blocked me on a dating site! Wow. That has got to be some milestone of some sort. And the beauty is that I got blocked by someone who was the initiator of EVERY CONVERSATION WE HAD. Yup. Better block me. Never know what crazy dangerous thing I’m going to do. Like tell you the truth.

But in the end, I take the responsibility for this. I am not on a dating website to make other people better people, and I am sure that no one wants dating advice from a girl as she is turning them down. If I hadn’t had the urge to mess with him, I would have ignored him like so many of the people on this site that I ignore, which doubtless would have been the better outcome. For both of us.

I knew this was going to happen

I knew this would eventually happen. And it did.

I was walking through this fine city and stumbled across a street fair, a common summer occurrence in Madison. A man with a packet of information approached me, looking as if he wanted me to sign a petition or become a member of something.

“Hi,” he said. “I’m…” and gave me his name, in a manner which did not clarify for me whether he was gathering signatures or just garden variety crazy.

“Hi…(his name here),” I said, facing at an angle away from him so that I could keep walking if the crazy came out.

“We’ve never met but we…had an exchange over the internet,” he said.

Oh! Online dating connection. No petition, no crazy. Wait…scratch that last part. Probably crazy. But while I was attempting to determine this, I was proving myself to be an asshole. I racked my brain trying to remember who he was. I don't interact with that many people, so why couldn't I remember him? He remembered me by sight we he's only seen pictures! Crap! Who is he? Was he the guy who sent me a picture of himself that reveled that he was still living with his parents? Was he the guy who told me way too quickly about his medical conditions? Or worse still, was he so boring that I don’t even remember our conversation?

Sensing that I couldn’t place him, he listed a few things we talked about. Unfortunately they were the topics that I speak to almost everybody about.

“Why don’t you tell me something about you,” I said, trying to sound upbeat and non-assholeish, and he told me what his career is. DING! Success! Proper brain synapses now firing! Only at this point did I warmly shake his hand, my eagerness mainly stemming from my own relief in remembering him, saving me from seeming like a total douchebag.

My now-aligned brain synapses informed me that this is the guy who is in the same field as I am, which presented me with the Paradox of the Peer: Do I meet someone that I already know I have much in common with, or do I avoid the risk of souring a relationship with someone that I will likely work with at some point? Or is it just a bad idea altogether because if we did meet we would just talk businesses? Because that’s pretty much what happened.

So, standing in the hot sun, at a block party, on a Saturday, I found myself talking about work. Or, more accurately, listening about work while I attempted to interject. He obviously wanted to continue on the topic that made me remember him, and equally as obvious was his desire to impress me. This had the unfortunate side effect of having him create a complicated argument to support his point that he not only lost me in, but lost himself in. Mid-sentence, the rate of his speech slowing proportionately to the realization that he was now just rambling, he dropped the subject and apologized, explaining that his friends often ask that he speak in sentences, not paragraphs.

The thought of his friends requesting that he speak like a normal person made me laugh, which he readily joined me in, saying, “I’m glad you find that funny instead of potentially annoying.”

The fact that these two are not mutually exclusive I kept to myself.

We then had a short conversation about my shirt, how he just bought a house, and how we have a mutual friend before he had to run.

And there it was. I knew that it was only a matter of time before I ran into someone I had met online, and it happened with minimal awkwardness and douchebaggery. Win!