I’m an asshole. I feel like the lowest form of human being right now. I want to know who gave me the right to be so incredibly judgmental? Am I really compulsively dating for the entertainment of my friends?!? Is using these real life stories about real live people the kind of thing I want to be proud about doing? Its fun to laugh with someone, but at someone is a whole different story.
For a while, this blog was just me, making fun of myself for the most part. And I’m a tough cookie. I can take it. Plus, I gave the author permission to be brutally honest about me and my missteps and shortcomings.
I am suddenly stricken with a bout of conscience. I immediately felt awful about my word choice in my last blog entry. Yes: loser, outcasts, misfits, fixer uppers and sub par freaks are all words I used to describe real men. That is so unkind of me!! We all know I did it to be funny. Right? Its funnier if they are total cliché’ blemishes on society, instead of just regular guys that I didn’t happen to spark with. Extremes are hilarious. I might take a little too much artistic license and exaggerate things quite a bit to make for a better story. That is technically lying. I am a liar. And officially a very bad person.
Because, I left out a bit of the truth. Cold dating is hard. Meeting a complete stranger is an incredibly terrifying experience. We put on our best outfits. We douse ourselves in alluring fragrances. We arm ourselves with our most captivating stories. And we hope to God that we make a favorable impression. At the end of the day, we all just want to be accepted and loved. And we definitely don’t want this total stranger to turn around and laugh about our inadequacies with their online friends.
It makes me feel like I am missing the point somehow. Again. I’m parading around on my “I don’t have sex” high horse. Then turning around and using real guys for artistic expression. And no one likes to be used. Especially if they don’t get the bonus of having sex to go along with it. If a guy is used for sex, hey, at least he still got to have sex. I’m giving them the impression that I am open, available and looking for love when I am really closed, guarded and merely satisfying my and my reader’s curiosity. I couldn’t be a bigger bitch if I tried. On top of that, I am setting myself up for failure. Because the whole time I am out with them I am crafting how to best spin this experience for my captive audience.
I couldn’t feel worse about it.
I want to believe that this social experiment of mine has some merit. That it is not all jokes and no heart. Giving up meaningless sex was a suppose to be a means to accidentally happen into meaningful sex. Love and all that happy ending nonsense on which Disney has built an empire. But that requires a big shift in me. Huge. Epic change. I have to start believing that I am worthy of love. Man. Let the weight of that wash over you. I honestly don’t know if I am ready for that.
Why am I telling you this? Funny, you all don’t look like my therapist.
So, okay, I go out with misfits. Because I am a misfit! I said it. I am completely over keeping this information to myself. I am no better than these guys. I so clearly see the longing in my perspective dates, because it is the same longing I have. I want someone to just see me. The real me, in all my dorky, dark, demented glory. And love me anyway. And the backwards logic is, it will be easier for someone in touch with their own flaws to appreciate me and mine.
I guess I wouldn’t feel so bad writing about annoying douche bags or cocky womanizing sons of bitches. Everybody hates them. And they deserve to be brutally bashed verbally. But I’ve already learned to steer clear of these cancers on societies nervous system. The lovable nerds, chilvalrous geeks, neurotic eggheads, on the other hand, who need love too, have already had their fair share of ridicule. And my less than stellar dates have been nothing but kind to me. My worst nightmare is that one of these sweet men would discover my blog and feel wronged or betrayed in some way.
My intention is not to harm, but to unravel why I am so mixed up when it comes to love. So, I’m not abandoning the blog. But I am going to be a bit more careful. I promise to stop leading guys on for my own amusement. And I vow to attempt to only date men who I could actually fall for. I’m really scared. And you should be too.
Fair warning, this blog is about to get interesting.
Categories: See Jane Give Up Dick