Does Jenn know me better than I give her credit?
I spent the evening with Janis yesterday. She picked me up from work, drove me to her parent's so we could have dinner, and we went to a free comedy show at Yuk-Yuk's. It was a great evening between friends wherein I shared my desire for a romantic partner and bemoaned my inability to like the guys who like me as much as they like me. I'll admit that it was disheartening to hear from Janis that, oftentimes, guys like us more than we like them.
(Like, what the hell, universe?!)
Anyway, what brought on this conversation was her father. I haven't seen Mr. and Mrs. B in a long time, so I got the usual grilling that concerned and sweet parents do when they see their child's longtime friend after a long time. And, of course, the dreaded "boys" question came up.
"Don't you want a boy in your life? Trust me, you'll want one soon."
Yeah. I know, Mr. B. I get. I'm living it. I do want a boy. Nay, I want a man. Maturity, confidence, sexual maturation... the whole nine yards. (Speaking of sexual maturation, I remember reading back in high school, that men with beards are sexually virile. Explains why I find dudes with facial hair exponentially hot.)
I want it all.
Or... do I?
So as I said, I slept over at Janis' last night and we met with Nicole and Jenn for breakfast this morning. It was wonderful seeing all three of my girls sans any boyfriends/hubbies. I mean, as much as I love Wyatt, Rylan and Dave, nothing beats quality time with the girls. So when Jenn met with us for breakfast, she apologized to me for saying something abrasive the last time we had "girl time" in May. I hadn't been a fan of anything she'd said that night, but it's Jenn. We make allowances for her word vomit, so I was shocked when she admitted to being a little harsh when she incredulously said, "You don't date!"
Now here's some background for those of you who care (those of you who don't, please skip the following three paragraphs):
Jenn has always been on my case about dating. Ever since I can remember, she's pressured me into accepting dates, going on dates, hell! Even going down on dudes. (TMI. I know. I'm sorry, but it's true.) I've never caved to her pressure 'cause I'm not totally spineless. I know she means well, but I do what I want, when I want.
So, back in May after she exclaimed that I "don't" date, I'd explained to her that, yes. I have been dating and, yes, I do want a boyfriend even though I am not actively looking for someone. She, of course, gave me a withering look and went back to chatting with Janis and Nicole, acting as though I'd never said anything. Janis and Nicole understand where I'm coming from, so they were sweet enough to let the topic drop and listened to Jenn. The less attention focused on me, the less I have to place myself under the microscope. I'll admit I hate attention and loathe self-analysis. I do it, but that doesn't mean I do it willingly.
Okay, those of you who skipped the background info can start reading again.
As Jenn deadpanned to me post-apology, I am not as willing to start dating as I say I am. I argued with her, saying that the simple fact that I'm not hitting on everything with a penis doesn't mean I'm not interested in dating; it means I'm overly concerned with being shot down. She sipped on her water and shook her head. "No," she insisted. "You don't want to date."
Her responses this morning frustrated me. I wanted to tell her to shut up, lest the cute guy working on his laptop over at the next table overhear how utterly pathetic I am, but all I could do was sputter on and on about how wrong she was, fabricating information to bolster myself in her eyes.
Finally, she let it drop and we resumed our breakfast. We paid the cashier. I confessed to Nicole how dishonest I'd been to one of our best friends. We left.
Now, hours later, I'm realizing that my panic-induced lies weren't because I was desperate to get Jenn to shut up in the presence of "hottie McLaptop Pants", but rather because Jenn voiced the one truth I've been avoiding: I don't want to date. I say I do, but do I?
I realized late last year that I am missing someone in my life. A great guy who'll get along great with the hubbies/boyfriends/fiancés. A great guy who will spoil Patrick and Claire and Juliana. A great guy who'll be fun and interesting and hot in my eyes. But every opportunity I've had to meet that dude has been wasted either through self-sabotage or, even worse, avoidance.
It's easy for me to say I want to date, but when it comes down to it, I'll do everything in my power not to.
It's a scary world to live in when the smug best friend (the one with the husband, the house, the "kids" --- the one who's always dishing out unwanted advice) is the one who knows you best.
Ew.
(Like, what the hell, universe?!)
Anyway, what brought on this conversation was her father. I haven't seen Mr. and Mrs. B in a long time, so I got the usual grilling that concerned and sweet parents do when they see their child's longtime friend after a long time. And, of course, the dreaded "boys" question came up.
"Don't you want a boy in your life? Trust me, you'll want one soon."
Yeah. I know, Mr. B. I get. I'm living it. I do want a boy. Nay, I want a man. Maturity, confidence, sexual maturation... the whole nine yards. (Speaking of sexual maturation, I remember reading back in high school, that men with beards are sexually virile. Explains why I find dudes with facial hair exponentially hot.)
I want it all.
Or... do I?
So as I said, I slept over at Janis' last night and we met with Nicole and Jenn for breakfast this morning. It was wonderful seeing all three of my girls sans any boyfriends/hubbies. I mean, as much as I love Wyatt, Rylan and Dave, nothing beats quality time with the girls. So when Jenn met with us for breakfast, she apologized to me for saying something abrasive the last time we had "girl time" in May. I hadn't been a fan of anything she'd said that night, but it's Jenn. We make allowances for her word vomit, so I was shocked when she admitted to being a little harsh when she incredulously said, "You don't date!"
Now here's some background for those of you who care (those of you who don't, please skip the following three paragraphs):
Jenn has always been on my case about dating. Ever since I can remember, she's pressured me into accepting dates, going on dates, hell! Even going down on dudes. (TMI. I know. I'm sorry, but it's true.) I've never caved to her pressure 'cause I'm not totally spineless. I know she means well, but I do what I want, when I want.
So, back in May after she exclaimed that I "don't" date, I'd explained to her that, yes. I have been dating and, yes, I do want a boyfriend even though I am not actively looking for someone. She, of course, gave me a withering look and went back to chatting with Janis and Nicole, acting as though I'd never said anything. Janis and Nicole understand where I'm coming from, so they were sweet enough to let the topic drop and listened to Jenn. The less attention focused on me, the less I have to place myself under the microscope. I'll admit I hate attention and loathe self-analysis. I do it, but that doesn't mean I do it willingly.
Okay, those of you who skipped the background info can start reading again.
I've always been in conflict with Jenn and I'll never admit that she's right whenever she makes blanket statements about people, let alone me. But, today, in the middle of Mill Creek Cafe with a really hot guy sitting at the next table, I ate my slice of humble pie and realized that Jenn might know me better than I ever realized. Hell, she might even know me better than I know myself. Me, the one who's praised by her family and coworkers for being, and I quote, "extremely self-aware", am in denial when it comes to many things --- guys, in particular. I've never denied that fact. I have, however, fooled myself into thinking I want a relationship as much as I say I do.
As Jenn deadpanned to me post-apology, I am not as willing to start dating as I say I am. I argued with her, saying that the simple fact that I'm not hitting on everything with a penis doesn't mean I'm not interested in dating; it means I'm overly concerned with being shot down. She sipped on her water and shook her head. "No," she insisted. "You don't want to date."
Her responses this morning frustrated me. I wanted to tell her to shut up, lest the cute guy working on his laptop over at the next table overhear how utterly pathetic I am, but all I could do was sputter on and on about how wrong she was, fabricating information to bolster myself in her eyes.
Finally, she let it drop and we resumed our breakfast. We paid the cashier. I confessed to Nicole how dishonest I'd been to one of our best friends. We left.
Now, hours later, I'm realizing that my panic-induced lies weren't because I was desperate to get Jenn to shut up in the presence of "hottie McLaptop Pants", but rather because Jenn voiced the one truth I've been avoiding: I don't want to date. I say I do, but do I?
I realized late last year that I am missing someone in my life. A great guy who'll get along great with the hubbies/boyfriends/fiancés. A great guy who will spoil Patrick and Claire and Juliana. A great guy who'll be fun and interesting and hot in my eyes. But every opportunity I've had to meet that dude has been wasted either through self-sabotage or, even worse, avoidance.
It's easy for me to say I want to date, but when it comes down to it, I'll do everything in my power not to.
It's a scary world to live in when the smug best friend (the one with the husband, the house, the "kids" --- the one who's always dishing out unwanted advice) is the one who knows you best.
Ew.
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