I find it a chore to take time out of my schedule to meet some dude in hopes that we’re compatible. Deciding which one of us has to drive–if it’s me, it’s a massive inconvenience because I have no sense of direction; if it’s the other guy, then I’m at his “mercy” and I don’t know if I can handle the lack of control.
I still have trouble figuring out what I’m doing wrong in social circumstances so I know how to present myself in the right way. (For years, for example, I was convinced that everybody thought like me and confused a number of my casual friends when I’d continue trains of thought that the rest of the group had long ago forgotten. Nobody taught me the fine art of conversation via free association, so while the group had moved on to topic, say G, I was still pondering the sub-sub-sub-branches of topic A.)
I’m also working on not every conversation into something about me because I can be a very self-absorbed twit. When I’m not a shrinking wallflower, I’m an insufferable show off. And I seem to bounce between “complete doormat who doesn’t know how to say no” and “insufferable bitch with a tiny comfort zone who loves to boss people around”.
Every time I’m around a guy, I get irrationally paranoid because there had been some jerks in my life who thought it was funny to get uncomfortably close and freak me the bleep out. Sure, in my head I know that just because some guy thinks I’m cute and wants to get to know me better doesn’t mean he’s a date rape waiting to happen, but it doesn’t stop me from feeling uncomfortable even when someone gives me an honest compliment.
I’m offended when a guy puts me on a pedestal, and even more offended when a guy decides I’d be perfect if only I would open up a little more and let go of my insecurities. The guy who worships the ground I walk on I suspect of loving a phantom, an image of a girl in his head; the guy who treats me as a fixer-upper I see as a threat to my current existence.
I don’t want to be wined and dined, I hate shopping, I find most movies a waste of my time and money, and I find noisy, crowded areas (like clubs) to be suffocating. I’d prefer to spend my evenings curled up on the couch watching football or playing video games.
I find my cats easier to relate to than most people and even they (the cats, that is) find me off-putting sometimes.
I’m not entirely fine with the way I am now, but most days it’s less effort to maintain ontological inertia than figure out whether or not there are parts of me that could use a little improvement. I’m worried that trying to date now would end in disaster for either party, so I’m neither putting myself in the market nor am I looking. Sure, I might regret not taking chances later, but given how my last attempt at dating fell apart, I’m not exactly eager to try again until I can figure out how to minimize making the same mistakes.