I think whatever lessons I learned this summer about where I stand in terms of preparedness for dating must have fallen into the abyss of my throat V. I stupidly went on a date this weekend.
It went a bit better than the last one. For me, there’s a positive correlation between pounds lost and self-confidence in all situations, and dating is no exception. The lead-up was almost not at all nerve-racking, and I felt calm and comfortable pretty much throughout. Start to finish, I’d say it was… fine. And yet, I’m so not in it to win it. So why am I bothering??
It may have something to do with the fact that my life-long friend (no joke, I’ve known this girl since the day I was born) got engaged right after Thanksgiving, my best friend is headed rapidly along that trajectory, and the rest of my local girlfriends are suddenly in relationships, too. It may also be because every time I start feeling kind of pretty, I have some weird impulse to check that theory on a living, breathing, human male. It could also be a result of this freak December heat wave (it was 70 frikkin’ degrees today!) throwing off the senses and getting people all twitterpated (YEAH, I said it).
It could be all of these things. It could be none of these things.
I just know I hate what I see when I take off my clothes. I’m actually thinking about talking to my doctor in January about possible options to address some of that when all of this is said and done. It sounds vain, but I can’t explain how upsetting it is to see the wear on my body. I’ve put it through a lot, and I’m proud of the hard work behind what it shows, but I’m so self-conscious about the stretch marks and other ugly features on this wasted landscape that I can’t really see myself getting past it.
These guys who flirt with me, who hit on me, who hold my hand, who put their arms around me… they don’t know what they’re getting into.
The guy from this weekend, he was nice enough. I wasn’t really feeling chemistry, but I wasn’t in agony just waiting for the date to end. (How much of the lack of chemistry is psychological resistance on my part is debatable.) And yet, he’d asked for a second date before the first one was over. He held me a little too long parting ways. Since we saw each other, he’s been all… talky.
What? I don’t get it.
I partly don’t get it because I still find myself so unattractive that it doesn’t compute that anyone would see me differently. Yeah, there’s been improvement over the past 9 months, but that’s all relative to me. In the grand scheme of things, compared to the rest of the gals out there, I’m still a 3 trying to claw my way to 4 status.
I continue to not get it because I was giving it like 60%, personality wise. It’s kinda like, “Dude, you were into that watered-down version of me? I’m SO MUCH BETTER than that!” I know, weird thought progression, right? Just wait.
Here’s where I veer off into the ridiculous: I actually kind of judge this guy for being interested in me. How fucked up is that?! As if I have the right to judge anyone for anything, let alone him for that!
Then again, that’s only when I allow myself to believe he actually is interested in me, and not just desperate or under the assumption that fat beggars can’t be fat choosers, so I’ll be all in because I’m desperate.
It doesn’t matter what the truth is. Bottom line: I am obviously not where I need to be physically in order to be where I need to be mentally in order to date anyone.
Shut it down.