Category: Words

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.

I am not sure when I noticed it.

I mean, we all have friends. They are our friends because we like something about them. I started noticing that the people I love the most all have a gift for laughter and fun made out of nothing. Anyone can have fun doing the extravagant stuff. Just having fun doing nothing takes great people.

Maybe it was at the beach, hearing Kyle laughing down on the deck from my bedroom upstairs. Maybe it was on the deck with Chelle and Rick, having a glass of wine and watching the sun go down. Maybe it was sitting on Kelly’s back porch laughing until my stomach hurt. Maybe it was playing dominoes while getting texts from Rocky talking about who he has gotten hickies from and sending him pictures of our night so he wouldn’t be lonesome under the stars down in Cali.

The people I love the most have a facility for taking regular day to day stuff and making it special. They smile and laugh easily. They are willing to be goofy. They draw elephants on your knees. They don’t let you take yourself too seriously because they know who you are.

The other night I was driving to the neighborhood hangout with the Doctor, and we were talking about how easy it is to have a good time. It doesn’t take much. You just have to notice how good everything is. Really, it’s one of those things that is both simple and easy.

And then tonight I was feeling a little blue after a great couple of days, and I kept thinking of stuff that is great. Stuff I am grateful about. Are there things that suck right now for me? Yes. Some of it is major. But there are still a lot of things to smile about.

So a list was indicated. Sort of a prescription, even if the Doctor didn’t order it.

In no particular order:
–People who help you learn things about yourself, even when it’s painful.
–Men with perfectly scruffy whiskers and smooth necks who don’t mind if you point out how perfectly scruffy they are to other people.
–the magic of a shared bottle of wine, or Jack.
–People who can tell the hell out of a story
–those people who will take an offhand remark and spin it into an ongoing joke that takes on a life of its own.
–People who will tell you how they feel even if they know you won’t like it.
–Brothers who let you bring all your crazy friends to their tailgaters.
–Parents who buy you yet another Duck t-shirt.
–People who just laugh if you throw underwear at them in public. Especially when they have a great laugh.
–People who make cookies just for you and put your name on them so no one can steal them.
–People who get angry on your behalf if someone is mean to you.
–People who cook dinner for you, and keep your glass full.
–Starry nights and Adirondack chairs.
–Clean sheets and a night cool enough to snuggle into warm covers.
–Snuggling.
–Surprise visits from someone you love. Or even someone you like.
–Planned visits.

I’m high but I’m grounded
I’m sane but I’m overwhelmed
I’m lost but I’m hopeful, baby
And what it all comes down to
Is that everything’s gonna be fine, fine, fine
–Alanis Morissette/One Hand In My Pocket

The age old question: can you influence how things turn out?

It seems so fucking obvious that you can. I mean, if I want tomato plants and I don’t plant them or buy them, I am very unlikely to have them. Unless…
If I believe in a deity, and it’s in her ineffable plan, she will provide them. Someone will just stop by with them, or a friend will have extras.

But.

Well.

That’s asinine. I mean, I hate to disrespect anyone’s beliefs, but pre-determinism just. Ugh. It’s dumb. (Wow. Well stated.)

Doesn’t it make you wonder?

The whole idea of predetermination just kind of rankles, right? You can do what ever harebrained or cruel thing you want, because everything will turn out the way it is supposed to. Free will? Bah, humbug.

It is the one thing that sort of makes me wish I believed in a heavenly referee handing out penalties. I mean, having a rule book would come in really handy.

Still, I do wonder.

It would really take the stress out of absolutely everything if that is what you believed. I think I will go on believing in muddling through as best as I can while trying not to be too much of a douche.

Love the people who deserve it, forgive the ones who don’t and maybe still love them anyway. They are probably just muddling through, too. Maybe eventually they’ll get the message about not being douches.

Tell the people you love how you feel, including the creeps. I suspect it pisses them off.

The only thing I am really sure of? Everything will be fine, fine, fine.

And I will die at some point.
Not just me. You, too.

And for some reason, those Facebook quizzes never suggest philosophy as a career for me. Weird.