I’m sitting here, halfway through a bottle of wine, after having made a delicious turkey chili with a salsa verde base. My belly’s full. My date with the Traveler was canceled. Or rather, he ghosted. I tried to confirm, and with no answer, I figured I knew what happened. The painting class started over an hour ago, so if he went and I wasn’t there, I probably would have gotten a text by now.
It’s a shame, really. I really wanted to do that painting.
On the other hand, it does go to my point about men will say really strange things and put forth a lot of effort for sex, and if at any point it seems like too much work, they kind of disappear. I didn’t even overtext this time.
Oh well. His eyes were beautiful, and I did really like the idea of a romantic overseas adventure, but I didn’t know anything about him, and it’s not really a big deal.
There are still three guys in the Tinder cue, and three in the cue is better than one who doesn’t show. I’m trying to keep things in Perspective.
(See what I did there? Oh yeah.)
My roommate, the one who sent me to the Baggage Reclaim site, laughed at me when I told her about my last text. When we discussed doing the painting, he said he’d make the reservations the next morning. I had been in the process of buying my own ticket and stopped. I said something about not expecting him to buy my painting.
They’re $45 a piece… And maybe that’s not a ton of money when you know the date is going to end well. But, dude! We had one really awesome texting conversation late at night, when he might very well have been drunk. As my kiddos might say “He don’t know me!” And if he’s looking for what Tinder is known for, he might very well think $45 PLUS drinks might be more than he’s willing to risk on a not definite thing. It’s all about worth, like we talked about recently.
At the time, when I asked, he laughed… But then, when I tried to confirm, he didn’t respond. So, maybe he decided it wasn’t worth it.
My roommate was concerned that it was because maybe I didn’t think I was worth it. In fact, she wanted me to give her his number, because she didn’t mind having a man pay for her painting.
But, see, I don’t need a man to buy my painting for me. It goes back to one of the reasons I’d blown off the Investment Broker originally, even before I realized I “wasn’t feeling him.” I don’t go on dates unless I feel like I can afford to pay for myself if need be. It’s not that I don’t think I’m worth it for a man to pay for me, but rather that I’m too independent to expect it.
If a man decides once he’s met me that he values me enough to pay for me, then that’s fine, but I don’t want him to feel obligated to do so.
Of course, the other side of that is that I’m probably going to think less of him if he doesn’t pay for me, or at least offer.
Remember, a big part of what I’m looking for is someone who I consider worthy of me, worthy enough that I would feel honored to submit to, in the way that Dagny submitted to Hank Rearden, or Dominique to Howard Roark. Part of proving his worth is to prove that he could be a provider if that were needed.
It’s not. But what if I decided I wanted to seriously pursue writing? What if my dream was to be a stay at home mother who wrote in her spare time?
I can hear my SAHM friends laughing in my head… “spare time, pfft!”
A man who can’t be bothered to pay for at least the first few dates proves he’s not worthy. I think that’s why there’s that whole three date rule about sex… Women are trying to determine if a man has staying power, or is he just one off and done?
The second type aren’t generally worth the time or energy. They’re probably more like the Investment Broker: going to try to guilt you into an act that should be a reward of some sort, and most women don’t really enjoy doing that.
There are some exceptions. Again, the previously mentioned roommate comes to mind, but even she said she doesn’t do that unless he goes down first. A simple quid pro quo.
Makes sense to me. I had explained to the Boy that I only do that for people I really care about because I get nothing out of it, particularly because men, while they may say they enjoy going there, they rarely actually do.
Mr. Nice Guy was an exception.
He was a rarity in so many good ways.
Of course, he wasn’t really worth it either. While, yeah, he always paid, and he was fond of telling me I was stunning and all sorts of other wonderful little compliments, he didn’t want to get to know me, to truly understand me. And maybe only a handful of dates wasn’t enough time for him to make that call, but it was enough for him to offer to pay for a hotel for an evening. That’s a great deal of effort and money (and one hell of a drive) for something fleeting.
I guess that’s really what is rolling around in my head as I write this: the effort and time.
See, I never doubted that the Boy was worth the time and the effort. I’d written posts about how much I felt like he didn’t consider me worth the effort because he sometimes… okay a lot of times, made me feel like I wasn’t worth it. But even as I was feeling that, he was STILL putting in the time and the effort. And why? Why would someone do that?
It wasn’t for sex. We weren’t doing that.
It wasn’t for dating. He kept telling me we weren’t doing that either… even though sometimes it would seem like we were.
It wasn’t for money or gifts. He always paid, and he gets weird about gifts. He says thank you a lot, but I don’t think he’s comfortable getting gifts because of the social expectation that he has to return the gesture, and he’s really not comfortable with that (as we’ve seen).
Is it possible that I was so busy waiting for him to make reparations for what he did before (and in a way I recognized) that I missed the fact that he was really there for me in the way I want someone to be there for me?
What I wanted was for him to tell me that I was worth the effort, and to put in the effort to make me feel special. I wanted the occasional compliment, and for him to make time to spend time with just me. I wanted him to make me feel like I was as important to his life as he was to mine.
But I missed it.
When I need him, he’s always there. He’s helped me out in ways that I would never ask other people. And when I was seriously spiraling out of control, he was the only person that I trusted to pull me out of it. Which he did. Not once, but twice, and one time after I had hurt him so badly that he (and I) was convinced that he would never speak to me again.
And his hugs are magical.
He makes me feel safe. Yet, when I tell him that, he argues with me, and I get frustrated that he argues with me… but then I read what I’ve written, on here, and in emails. No wonder he thinks that I don’t value him. I was so busy tearing him down for not lifting me up, that I did what might very well be irreparable damage.
I never understood what he wanted and needed out of our interactions, and I think I was trying to get him to tell me. Actually, I know that was part of it because there were several times when I would tell him that I was telling him what I needed, and I needed the same from him so we could find a compromise.
We never found the compromise…
I wanted so badly to go backwards, to a place where we were okay, when things were fun, that any time I felt like he was trying to pull me in a different direction, I shut down and threw him under. I would do that because he knew what I needed and where I wanted to go, but I didn’t know where he was leading me. I couldn’t follow because I didn’t know the outcome he was after and I was scared.
I was scared that he was taking me somewhere where we could never get back to that place. I was scared that if he strayed too far from where we had been that I’d forget how good it was. I was scared that if he couldn’t go back there, he’d never see what I saw. And I needed him to see I was right.
Yeah, I’m that stubborn.
I was so busy trying to convince him that my way was better that I didn’t see or hear what he was trying to show me. Which is that he did care, and he was there for me.
And I lost my best friend because of it, I think.