The other night I was chatting with a newly single friend, and we touched on some of the difficulties of meeting people. His biggest problem is that women flock to him without any effort on his part. He hasn’t ever really had to go after a woman. Hey. It’s a problem for him. I don’t judge. Some people have a hard time eating enough to maintain their weight. Others have trouble with eating too much. A problem is a problem, and it doesn’t matter if it’s your problem. If it’s a friend, you try to be understanding and supportive.
My problem will most likely be the opposite of his if I get to that point again. When. When I get to that point again. Unlike my friend, I do not have a line forming and will probably have to make some sort of effort to meet men.
Introverts and meeting people? Not the best combination. A shy introvert? Well. They don’t have to worry about me talking too much, at least at first. In order for me to meet people, there has to be some astral alignment happening. It’s not going to just happen.
When I was 21 and adorable, it was easy in spite of my introverted personality. I had ways to compensate. I was pretty. I had all of my parts in the right place. I had a penchant for high heels, short skirts and ample cleavage. I looked a little slutty. I was a little slutty. Things are so uncomplicated at that age. I didn’t want to keep a guy, just borrow him for a few hours. If he was buying me drinks, I knew what he wanted.
Now it’s more complicated. I’m in a place where meeting men is not as simple as just existing on the planet and having breasts. Most of the time I want something more meaningful from a man than a few hours in bed. Not all the time, but most of the time. My options for compensating for both shyness and introversion are more limited. My options for actually meeting single men are more limited than they were at 21 when all the men were single. I don’t have the type of looks or personality that draw men in.
It takes a long time for me to get to know people and for them to get to know me. And I am not the kind of person everyone likes. Quirky. Intense. Prone to exaggeration in many of my traits. No one would describe me as charming.
Still. I do meet people sometimes. Some of them are single men. I will muddle through. I am very smart, funny, pretty enough, likeable enough. There are some people who think weird is sexy.
Fine. Not to worry. It will work out.
The bigger problem though is that my interest detector is seriously on the fritz. Even if I do meet someone, I just cannot tell if they are interested in me sexually unless they do something really obvious to flag it for me. I used to know immediately. Now? I am completely clueless, and I really don’t know if it is because men are more subtle now or because I have become a sexual dumbass. I strongly suspect the latter.
I can tell if someone likes me, I guess. I mean if someone spends time with me, smiles a lot and indicates that he would like to spend some more time with me soon, that is a clue, right? Just like it is with a friend of either gender.
But in the words of every 12 year old: does he like me like me, or just like me?
So it starts out over there, in that box that says “friend” or “acquaintance” on it, and then at some point it gets a little unclear where things are going. If they are going anywhere.
Or if it’s going to stay in the “friend” box.
To be clear: I love having men as friends. I always have. I do not have so many friends that I want to stick with only the ones I have now. Newcomers would be welcome. There is nothing wrong with being in the friend box.
My friends are not “just friends.”
They are every bit as important to me as lovers.
Except that at some point, sex would be very welcome.
Being skin starved and cuddle deprived is no way to go through life.
And I really miss suc…
Well.
Never mind what I miss.
What I need is some sort of signal of interest. No, not an erection. That might be a little more bold than required right at first. Something a little shocking whispered in my ear. A kiss on the neck. Something a little…assertive.
Make something up.
Maybe I will get it.
I’m a smart girl.