Not That Kind of Girl

I have a date. I don't know where or what time. Just a vague agreement to get together on Friday night. I should probably shave my legs, do some laundry, get a bikini wax, stay away from food for the next 72 hours, tweeze my eyebrows, and get my nails done; but I won't. I'm not compelled. There are no butterflies in my stomach, no daydreams of candlelit dinners in my head. I'm not nervous, nor am I excited. My reaction is no reflection on him. He seems nice, amusing, and generally cool. It's not him, it's me.
I hate dating. Actually, I loathe it with every fiber of my being. The idea of spending two hours or more with a practical stranger playing "getting to know you" while pretending to have fun makes me want to throw up in my mouth. Conversations about what I look for in a man peppered with compliments on how great I am make my head hurt. Getting picked up at the beginning of the night and trying to determine whether or not to kiss at the end of it does nothing but raise my blood pressure.
So then why did I agree to go out with this guy? No. It's not for a free meal (although I will not turn one down if offered). I'm bored and I need something to do. For the past six months my Friday nights have consisted of grad school applications, television, fast food, and web surfing. I can go days without seeing another person and figured human interaction would do me some good. Now I'm not so sure. My couch is much more appealing than a date.
Don't get me wrong, I definitely desire male companionship. It's just that I prefer to get that companionship without going on a date. To me dates are stifling and forced. You're obviously out with that person to see if there is "something there." It's like the entire night has an objective and meeting that objective is a huge cloud over everything that's said and done. No thank you!
Obviously, I've gotten close (very close) to a few men here and there in my 26 years. Interestingly, the men I've been closest to never asked me on a date. We wound up together accidentally. I fell for the Idiot Who Made Me Cry when I went over to his place to watch a movie. I knew the Alcoholic West Indian for years before I even considered him a viable member of the opposite sex. The Guy Who Shouldn't Make Me Cry....well I don't even know how the hell that started, but I know it wasn't with a date. All of these "relationships" developed unconsciously. We were hanging out, talking, and chilling when all of a sudden something clicked. There was no pressure to like one another because that was never the original intention. None of them asked to get to know me better, they just did it. No one stated any intentions, made any overtures, or set anything up. It all just happened. I guess they spoiled me. When everything starts so easily the idea of trying to put something in motion is exhausting. True, none of those situations ended very well (although I'm not sure that two of the three have actually ended). Hmmmm....maybe that approach doesn't work too well over the long haul. And while it is true that doing the same thing over and over with the same result is the definition of insanity, I think I'd prefer to drive myself crazy for a little while longer. It beats the hell out staring across from a perfect stranger as he asks,"So what are you looking for in a man?"

Same Old Story

I have an irrational fear of relationships. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy being snuggled up on a couch with a 6'0 piece of man candy as he gets his fingers tangled in my wooly fro. Whispering words of endearment over the phone gives me butterflies. I love being in serious like. My problem is the actual idea of a full fledged relationship. The responsibility of having to consider someone else besides myself, the commitment, the labels. It makes my skin crawl. No matter how much I like a guy the idea of him being my boyfriend scares the shit out of me.
And yet whenever something "new" starts, I always envision it lasting for a long while. In those daydreams I see the gift exchange at Christmas, me giving him something personal with tons of sentimental value that shows that I've been paying attention for the last three months. I envision the soft, lingering kiss at the stroke of midnight on Jan 1. And of course I see the most romantic movie night, complete with 80s blockbusters and extra cheese pan pizza on Valentines Day (hey, I'm a cheap date). Mind you all of this will of course occur without an actual relationship.
Oh, the best laid plans. I have a great habit of getting into something new during the summer and falling out of it right in time keep those visions of winter holiday snuggling bliss as strictly visions.
And this year is of course no different. Valentines day came and went with not a phone call, card, or gift from any man expressing his undying devotion (at least for the day) for me. I don't know if I'm disappointed or not. See, I don't really know if I was supposed to expect anything this year. The possibility of the Alcoholic West Indian making a reappearance for Cupid's day was a longshot. He's still got another two months of not speaking to me before he shows back up. But The Guy Who Shouldn't Make Me Cry (and lately is NOT) is definitely back in the picture. The thing is this time, everything is a lot more casual. And not because I'm playing casual just so he won't think I'm a clingy chick and maybe stick around for a while, but because honestly I don't want to be that serious and neither does he. Yet, it still would've been nice to get more than a chain text message to the effect that if I get this rose @>------- from 10 people then I'm really loved. One out of ten, what does that say?