The Early Stages of Dating

When you first start seeing someone, everything is rosy and good and nothing is dark and bad, and there are no tears or drama or jealousy. It’s the lovely, simple time before you even have your own feelings figured out.

You don’t want to seem needy and clingy and overly-attached, but suddenly all your friends seem lackluster and your new beau is the zenith of all that is fun and amazing in the universe and you just want to non-creepily spend every spare second in their company. So you make plans. First it’s happy hour, then food, then maybe a movie. Then it becomes all these inane activities. Let’s go rock climbing, let’s try trapezing. Ever hiked in the Shenandoah’s? LET’S DO IT.

Because when a relationship is first getting off the ground, you’re hopelessly reliant on organized activities to give your time together some structure. The gist of the plan is essentially meaningless, but there’s an unwritten rule that you’ve got to have one. Both parties must at least pretend there's an underlying reason for meeting up besides possibly wanting to exchange DNA.

So the Big Date is scheduled and details confirmed but fro-yo becomes dinner which turns into drinks which leads to morning coffee and suddenly you’ve powered through all the classic date night activities in a single whirlwind evening and you find yourself sprawled on a couch watching re-runs of sitcoms wishing you’d spaced things out just a little bit better. It’s like speed dating except with one person instead of a roomful of singles.

And now things aren't rosy and good or dark and bad but some kind of murky pinkish middle ground.

Is this (just) real life?

Texting with Boys

I feel validated. And yes, it’s because of a man. Sorry feminists.

He’s a stranger in theory. A stranger who I locked lips with because we felt like it. Because why not? He reminded me of that blonde guy from Sweet Home Alabama minus the southern accent. Or maybe he had one? I don’t remember – we didn’t talk much. And that was that.

But then what? A few errant texts. A lot of nothingness thumbed between phones. I got antsy. I wanted more. And didn’t want to be forgotten or ignored. So I made my move.

Despite carefully crafting my text to sound casual and cool, I still regretted it the instant I pressed send. I watched the little blue thought bubble appear in our chat, feeling anxious and stupid and unsure of myself. I felt rejected before I was even rejected because I seemed crazy. He’d sent all oneliners and I respond with a six line chunk of text (that's practically a novel in iphone world!) asking him out on a date?!? Who does that? Crazy girls. Crazy girls do that.

But then. Then! That glorious ellipsis. Oh thank you iphone for letting me know instantly that this stranger slash new friend has received my message and chosen to respond. It’s so painfully pathetic of me to watch and wait and watch and wait but still. It came! The "yes". The "of course". The "you’re-silly-I-was-going-to-ask-you-but-you-beat-me-to-it" text. All the best words combined together in the best sentence reaffirming my desirability. I was good enough to kiss, but this, this is better. This says I’m good enough to have a conversation with. I’m good enough to go out with. I'm worth getting to know beyond the taste of my strawberry chapstick.

I know, I know. I shouldn’t need some silly boy to remind me of my worth, but sometimes, it's just that simple.

Seeing an Ex

When you break up with me, I like to think you cease to exist. It’s not like I want you to die or anything (I swear, I don’t) but it would be nice if we didn’t have to share the planet let alone this tiny city.

I was tipsy when I passed you on the street last night, and you caught me completely off guard. You were smiling, relaxed, enjoying the company of the girl you were obviously on a date with and it felt offensive and unfair and insulting.

I get that we weren’t really a couple. I get that we had virtually nothing in common. And I certainly understand that I am belaboring a point here and clearly have spent far more time analyzing our non-relationship than is appropriate for the quantity and quality of time we spent together but aghhhh.

Without you, I’m so bored I’ve resurrected all of my drawsomething games. I’m cooking elaborate four course dinners for myself. I’m making one-woman acoustic music videos personalized for each of my non-DC friends.

I have TOO much time on my hands and it’s pathetic. I mean, I guess I’m doing things I like to do, and I’m obviously improving my skills in the kitchen, but it seems like I’m just biding my time until I can fill it with someone else. You might have found ways to occupy yourself – as you made evident on your annoyingly adorable dinner date – but I don’t want to witness how you spend your time now that it’s not being spent with me.

I’d really like you to move so I don’t ever have to think about you again. K, thanks, bye.