Posts Tagged ‘willingness without action is fantasy’

That Didn’t Last Long

February 9, 2015

Tinder me no Tinder.

This thing sucks ass.

Not for me.

Less than twenty-four hours of using the app and I am burnt out on it.

I have not been obsessively using it, I just don’t care for it.

It manages to suck me right into my phone, which no way man, not on my day off, I have things to do, books to read, walks to take, women to sit with in my kitchen and be present for.

I have food to cook and things to write.

And I just don’t like it.

Partially because it just seems so patently surface.

“I don’t like it,” I told him today on the phone, “I want it off my phone, but I haven’t figured out how to get rid of it yet.”

I have turned off the notifications and I haven’t used it in a few hours and I am going to get it off my phone.

Online dating seems one thing, this random roulette of photographs and profiles apparently works for someone out there, I know lots of folks are using it, but it turns out, not really news to me, I am a little more old-fashioned.

But not too old-fashioned.

I managed to knock another one off my list of ten.

And I replaced one of the guys on the list with a more viable option, if I suspected I was not going to want to go out with the gentleman from last night because he’s a heavy smoker, he should never have gone onto the list.

It was a cheat so I could cross it off without having to do the actual work.

And it is work, let me tell you, asking someone out without hiding behind the screen of my phone, rather actually using my phone.

Not sending a text.

But actually calling a live human being.

Who’s voicemail, of course, I got.

And I flubbed it so bad.

Oh my god.

It’s funny, it was funny when I was doing it, it was the most artless, graceless, idiotic, could be made into a bad dating comedy movie script, of an ask.

In fact.

Ugh.

I called him an asshole.

I meant, I am the asshole, because I can’t quite cleanly articulate what I am saying.

Shocker.

I haven’t gotten a response.

Oh lordy.

But you know, I tried.

And he’s actually a friend, someone I have known for years and off again, on again, wondered about whether we might have some chemistry–it seems we do, but sometimes that’s hard to tell.

My picker appears broken, so I could be wrong.

He also has a sense of humor, so I’m sure he will actually find it funny that I called him an asshole.  I also said I was practicing and in the spirit of taking suggestions I was asking him out to coffee, not as friends, but to see if there was a click there.

Then I laughed maniacally.

Dating.

So much fun.

I have decided that I am going to let the OkStupid profile stand, although I am not a huge fan of it, I prefer it leaps and bounds over Tinder.

And I am going to continue to knock of the names on the list.

One by one.

Each day.

That is my goal anyway, one name a day.

One phone call or one message.

Of the ten on the list the guy I called today is the only one who I actually have a phone number for.

The other guys I’m going to have to message on Facebook or ask out in person.

One of them I will see tomorrow and I have been trying for the last couple of weeks to get up the gumption, but I believe I was still clearing out all the stuff from my previous relationship and I was stymied whenever I got close to saying anything.

But I am sick of the fantasy.

I am a dreamer, but I want reality.

I’m going to kill the fantasy with the guy I usually see on Mondays.

I don’t think there’s interest on his part, but I have to get it, him out of my head and out-of-the-way.

I am not obsessively thinking about him, but he’s there and every Monday for a little while now, I have thought, I really should ask him out for a cup of coffee.

He’s not on a Facecrack as far as I can tell.

Two of his close mutual friends are and I have done enough Facecrack stalking to ascertain that he probably does not have an account.

This is a good thing.

That is one thing on my ideals list, someone who can be present for me and I for them and not interfacing via social media.

It’s too one-sided.

I want to be with someone who wants to be with me, not my profile picture.

Anyway.

That’s the plan.

Ask one guy out a day.

Get dates set up.

One a week, just like I was trying to do before I got into the relationship with my ex.

It worked then.

And as I have learned so much about myself and dating and romantic relationships and breakups and being human through that experience, I can only have faith that it has made me a better woman to date.

I have grown toward my ideal.

Beyond grateful for that.

I have so much more clarity around what I want it is refreshing and I know that God will do for me what I cannot do for myself, that God’s plan is so much better than my plan.

I mean really.

It is.

I don’t want to be alone, though I isolate at the drop of hat, so I’m fellowshipping and seeing ladies.

I got a ticket to Basement Jaxx to dance, I’m not going to wait for someone to take me.

Although not a single person I know is now going.

Which is ok.

I can still go and dance and if it gets weird being there on my own.

Well.

I leave.

Novel idea that.

And who knows.

Maybe in the work of doing this, in the changing and growing I will, without even meaning to, stumble into the exact place I am supposed to be.

That’s what I suspect.

And I’ll be ready for it when it happens.

Because I am not sucked into Tinder.

But present to be in the gift of the moment.

With whomever God wants me to be with.

I suspect he’s dreamy.

I am.

Simultaneously*

February 6, 2015

Too much.

And not enough.

I am too flamboyant.

And I am not kinky enough.

Now if you know me, and a few of you do, you know that though the latter is not true, and so too is the former.

Yet.

I am critical of myself.

I am not enough.

And I am too much.

There is no middle ground, there is no one who is going to put up with this and there is not enough for me.

I am too much to handle.

But not enough heat in the kitchen.

I mean, really, I could go on in this vein for some time and not get myself anywhere but perhaps in a head ache state of mind.

I had a really good talk and a great check in tonight and I was informed I am more than enough and I am perfectly, imperfectly, my sexiest self.

Let me remind myself that I really am in the best place in my life.

I am honest and open and communicative, I am learning where I can be more of that, mostly through not with holding my honest response.

I can be manipulative and a bit of a people pleaser.

Which is never in anyone’s best interest.

Oh.

God.

I love me some house music.

Sorry, just got totally swept up in the beat on my stereo, I’m even typing in rhythm.

Haha.

This lady needs to go out dancing.

I’m this close to getting tickets to Basement Jaxx at Public Works with David Harness opening, next Saturday, the 14th.

I don’t suspect that I will have a Valentine’s date that night and I could really use a shake it out on the dance floor evening.

Fuck, I’ll even get dressed up for it, sexy for myself.

That’s where I have gone back to, again, and again as the process of the break up spools it way out.

Be sexy for me.

Dress for me.

Dance for me.

“You are magnificent,” a friend commented to me recently after expounding on my sexuality and expressions thereof.

Thanks man, I needed to hear that.

I believe it, I do, even when the doubts try to crowd into my head.

I have had such a habit of hiding my light under a bushel that when I do let it shine I tend to be rather overpowering.

I am finding a balance, a fabulous one, I am fabulous, I am, and I won’t argue that limitation.

I love clothes.

I love makeup.

I love dressing up.

I wish I did it a little bit more.

I’m not the greatest at shopping, but I am getting better.

All these things running around in my head and really, they do me no good up there.

What actions can I take?

That’s where I need to go, my thoughts are not my person, my person is made of my actions.

And I know I can take action.

Yesterday my actions were really simple, sit still, don’t respond, hold on tight to your chair and keep your counsel.

Not reaching out was the action.

Acceptance, awareness, action.

Or lack thereof.

Sometimes its hurry up and wait.

I am so glad I did.

I still had some moments of sadness and a couple of moments of hot-headed anger, but for the most part I rode them out.

I kept my side of the street clean.

Squeaky motherfucking clean.

Bitches.

I was thinking tonight as I wheeled through the park on my way home, what actions do I take next?

Get out there and date it up lady.

That’s the answer I got.

Now the question to myself is do I get back on the interwebs and do the OkStupid again?

Or do I just look within the fellowship and communities I am a part of?

The key is not to think too much about it, but to take action.

If I get back into online dating, cool, open the account back up and post and see what happens.

And I also realized after I turned down the inquiry last night about hanging out at the cafe and going to fellowship, that yes, damn it, I have to do that too.

I turned down two invitations this week to do just that and I realized after both that I don’t have to go crazy with it, if I have been invited to dinner and have already eaten, I can still go.

I just don’t eat.

Have a cup of tea.

If it’s a late night go out on a school night for me.

I can still go.

I just stay for a half hour instead of rolling for two hours.

I can squeeze it in.

Besides if I’m not out there, I’m not out there.

I also have to look up and out and not navel gaze.

Who is looking?

Take my blinders off, really pay attention, there are people, guys looking, and they are not always the skeezy pants ones that I notice, there are guys out there, decent, smart, cute guys, I know it, who see me.

But maybe I am too busy being in my head.

So look up, I admonish myself, look out.

See what there is.

I’m not banging my head on the closed-door.

I am walking through to the open door.

And it may be that the hallway is shorter than I think, I just have to walk the walk.

Not talk the talk.

Willingness without action is fantasy.

A girl can fantasize about Mister Right, or Right Now as the case may be, but if I don’t accept and acknowledge to myself that I am Ms. Right and a damn fine one at that, Mister Right is going to walk right by when I am focusing on what I think I don’t have.

I am so grateful for this dating experience with my ex, in case you were wondering, he’s a great guy and I hope the very best for him, he’s just not the guy for me.

And I wasn’t the girl for him.

But I am for someone and I know it.

So I get to act like it.

Embrace it.

Be it.

I am my own.

Fuck Yeah Girl.

 

 

*This blog officially written evening of 2/5/2015, pesky internet went down last night.  There will be another blog to follow today.  Thanks for your patience!*

Uh, I Am Not Very Good At This

March 1, 2014

But.

I think you’re cute.

And if you ever want to go grab a cup of coffee, here’s my number, give me a call.

Then I walked away.

Killed that fantasy.

Took two weeks.

I won’t say should, would, or could, but I was kicking myself two weeks ago Friday for not doing exactly what I did tonight, then.  But hey, its progress.

Stuff like that would have terrorized me for months if not years, you think I kid.

And I am not very good at this, but the only way to go through, is through.

I need to do this sort of stuff as I am changing by changing.  I mean, I won’t change by doing the same things I have always done.  Which looks a bit like, crush out on someone and never say anything unless they are moving away or I am.

I still almost did not do it.

I stood, re-arranging my bag, checking my phone, chatting to the person standing next to me, watching him.

He passed me, I caught his eye, I smiled, he smiled, then he walked by.

D’oh!

What am I doing?

I can do this.

I walked out.

I walked away.

I walked past.

I did not collect $200.

I did not pass Go.

Grr.

I stood outside on the sidewalk and as I was standing next to John Ater who was inquiring if I was coming out to dinner or not, I realized I could not stand the talking to I would get if I told him what I had just done.

Sometimes people pleasing does work for me.

I turned around and went back inside to use the bathroom.

I saw him again and walked by.

GOD DAMN IT.

Ok.

I can do this.

I went pee and looked myself firm in the eye, sack up, lady pants, you got this.

Besides, I looked stupid cute.

You should have seen me this morning trying to juggle what I was going to wear.

I can’t remember being so flummoxed by my wardrobe in sometime and it was because I knew I would see the guy tonight and I would need to pull the trigger.

Have to pull it.

I can’t stand the being in fantasy part any longer.

Get it over with, ask and find out, then move on.

That’s the only way I am going to find out, since I haven’t been asked out of late and I want that to change.  I want to go on a date, I got to let people know I am available and I need to let the guys know whom I am attracted to.

Otherwise it’s all just a story in my head.

I walked out of the bathroom and he was standing with his back towards me speaking with someone who needed some help and it was the moment.

I knew it.

I rummaged in my bag (I am not the confident girl who demands the phone from the guy and then plugs her number into it, that’s movie stuff as far as I am concerned) and pulled out a little notebook.

I wrote my name.

I wrote my number.

I folded it in half.

I looked up and he was walking my way.

“Hi Carmen,” he said and smiled and headed to the bathroom.

Oh my god, I am about to do it again.

I could feel myself shrinking back and about to stick the piece of folded up paper in my pocket.

I have done this a number of times too–gotten really close to asking someone out or saying something and then letting the moment go right on by–and then spent the rest of the week kicking myself.

I am so tired of kicking myself when I am down.

“Hey ________,” I almost shouted, but not quite.

He stopped, turned, cocked his head, paused.

Oh stupid, you are stupid, damn it, and whoa, he’s cute, he’s cute.

“Uh, I am not very good at this,” I blurted out, “but, I think you’re really cute (oh heaven’s to Betsy, did I just say that?  Am I in high-school?) and if you ever want to grab a coffee, give me a call.”

I handed him the folded up piece of paper and bolted.

I did not wait for a response.

I think I smiled.

I am not certain if he was heading to the bathroom or going to say something to me or what, I cannot tell, I was not present to gauge his reaction.

I know he took the piece of paper.

And.

Sweet fucking relief.

I am not fantasizing any more.

As soon as I was outside, I could feel it lift.

Followed by a rush of adrenalin that was not as bad as I have had it before.

I stood outside, waited for John, then walked down to Haight Street with him and a few other folks for some dinner at a nearby cafe.

By the time I had finished dinner and swapped numbers with a new women whom I had met recently but not had a chance to chat with, I had forgotten all about it.

It was only when I went to check my phone to see when the next N-Judah was going to be running that I remembered.

Because there was not a text or a call on it.

So be it.

There could be later or not.

I don’t have to worry about it.

I did the action.

I got some relief.

That’s what it’s about really.

I don’t have control over how any of this stuff works, but I do find that when I take the suggestions I feel better.  I don’t know who I am going to date next, only that I will, because I am willing to take action.

Willingness without action is fantasy.

Shot the fantasy in the foot tonight.

Even if what it looked like was that I just stuck my foot in my mouth.

Action was taken.

Done is done.

Next.


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