Well, if I could tame all of my desires
Wait out the weather that howls in my brain
Because it seems that it’s always changing
The winds indecision, the sorrowful rain
Yeah, I was a postcard, I was a record
I was a camera until I went blind
Now I’m riding all over this island
Looking for something to open my eyes
I have a funny, somewhat paradoxical attitude towards my prowess with members of the opposite sex, and it’s hard for me to know exactly why. Sometimes I feel like I am completely inept at meeting women, and that none ever take an interest in me, while at other times it seems like there is always some girl chasing me, at least when I’m single (and occasionally when I’m not). And while most of the women I meet don’t take a romantic interest in me, enough do that I should be confident, if not downright cocky about my sex appeal.
I know that at least part of my reluctance to admit to myself that I’m attractive to women stems from my first experiences with dating. Ever since my early teens, girls have flirted with me, but I’ve never felt like I deserved it. I think part of that disbelief stems from the way the girls who actually knew me ignored me. Throughout grade school and most of high school I was always the least popular kid in my class, and no girls ever asked me out or agreed to go out with me when I was the one asking. It was only when I went somewhere else that girls occasionally showed interest. Obviously, I attributed this to the fact that the people who knew me well disliked me; strangers were more easily duped into finding me attractive.
Once I got to college, and the slate was wiped clean, and I was surrounded by others with interests similar to my own, I was surprised by how many girls were into me. I just wasn’t sure what to do about it. I’m pretty sure that all those years of being ostracized by my peers taught me to expect to be ignored by others, so I wasn’t prepared for a girl showing interest in me, hence my uncertainty. Even today, all grown up and years removed from being unpopular in any sense of the word, when a girl tells me I’m cute or fun or interesting, or anything of that nature, I don’t believe it. I feel I must somehow have tricked her into thinking so, because I know the real me is plain and uninteresting. No matter how old I get, or how often girls seem attracted to me, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m just a heartbeat away from being exposed as unworthy of such affection. Or that there must be something wrong with the girl saying nice things about me. That sounds really harsh, but it’s true. I honestly feel this way.
There is another aspect to this that I have yet to mention, and while using math to explain love is seldom an effective route to take, I think this time it is justified. So here goes… let’s try to graph love! Throughout my life, there have been a number of girls for whom I was utterly smitten– crushes, or what have you. Let’s plot all of those girls on a line called something like “Girls What That I Like.” Granted, I don’t crush easily or often, so it is a small line, but it is a significant line nonetheless. The other line on our graph is “Girls What That Like Me.” This is a noticeably longer line. Unfortunately, the two lines never intersect. That is pretty much the point of our math exercise. I’ve liked some girls, a bunch of girls have liked me, but none of the ones I liked ever liked me back. Until…
Fizzy was the big exception to that. I liked her, and she liked me. More than that, when she became my girlfriend, it didn’t feel as though I’d pulled a fast one on her; we seemed like a perfect fit. And she became, for better or worse, a sort of badge of honor for me. I extolled her virtues to anyone who would listen (not to mention the entire blogging world), and I guess in retrospect maybe it seemed like I was bragging. In a way, I suppose I was. I never imagined someone so wonderful would ever take an interest in me, much less agree to marry me, and I wanted to shout it from rooftops.
Whenever friends would consult me about problems with their love lives, I’d remind them that true love and happiness is possible. I’d tell them how I never thought I’d find it, but then one day it happened. I never meant to gloat or boast, but maybe it came out that way. Now I feel sort of foolish– I was obviously wrong. True love is harder to hold on to than I ever imagined, and even someone you trust and love unconditionally can unexpectedly lie to you or hurt you without reason. Even when things seem perfect, they don’t always work out.
I have no idea why I’m writing about this. Wait, yes I do. I think it has something to do with the gradual realization that I may very well be single again. I mean, I am not entirely sure that I am, and I don’t want to go into all sorts of personal details here, but Fizzy vanished without a trace (or a goodbye) about three months ago. I have it on good authority that she is not dead, but beyond that I know nothing. So yeah, I’m pretty sure it’s over, which means I no longer have an excuse to ignore flirtatious women. That sounds weird, doesn’t it? Why would I want to ignore them?? I wish I knew. I’ve always been this way– it’s as if I actively try to make women disinterested in me so I won’t feel surprised when it turns out to be the case. At least when I was with Fizzy, I had an excuse to ignore other women. I was taken. Now I have no excuse. But I still find myself doing the same thing. I think it is the lack of closure that has me in this holding pattern. Without resolution it’s hard to move on. Not to mention the fact that I don’t really want to move on. I was very happy for a long time, and the last thing I want to do now is “get back out there” and try to meet girls again, but it seems that eventually I am going to have to do so. Rats.