My date with JAG was a total bust. I was so disappointed. I daresay he was, too; I caught a fleeting and well hidden look of boredom on his face at one point.
I had such a good feeling about this one! He was nice, but I didn’t find him at all attractive. Possibly because he was barely taller than me. In his email he’d said he was 5’6” but I am barely 5’ even, and my heels were 2 and 1/2 or 3 inches, tops. Even so, we were practically eye to eye. Would I have been more attracted to him if he was 6’2"? Probably. I wish that weren’t the case, but it is. God. I’m finding dating so grim, and am having a hard time maintaining any optimism. Thing is, I don’t even want a boyfriend. I just want a sex life with someone I find attractive.
Hmmm. I feel pretty close to tears this morning. I think I’m about to get my period. I mean, I had better be. Otherwise I’m just depressed, with no excuse.
Tonight is my date with Olivier. At least there’ll be alcohol involved, unlike my date with JAG. Who doesn’t drink. Not even coffee. If I ever write a date primer, the first thing I will suggest is that a first date be AT A BAR, unless of course one of the participants is a recovering alcoholic.
On the way home from my date on Saturday evening I kept thinking about Tim and thinking about how no one I’ve been out with of late has measured up to him, or rather, to that really boozy, fun, and hot date. Hotness referring to the fact that he was feeling me up in the bar (was an underwire bra a good idea?) -- I swear nobody noticed-- and, of course, the promise (sadly unfulfilled) of sexual activity in the not too distant future. But of course nothing can live up to Tim -- he’s taken. I don't mean nothing can live up to him because he’s taken, but he’s taken because he’s pretty dreamy, as his (once and current?) girlfriend Amanda put it. I’m reminded of him, or rather I remind myself of him because sometimes I’m afraid that this is all that’s left for me – guys like JAG. Nice guys. Well spoken, intelligent guys with good jobs who I am not attracted to. Is it cause I’ve reached some fatal x/y intersection, where the narrowing pool of options has crashed into to the point in my life where due to extensive therapy and diminished expectations, I no longer have the patience to fall for anyone? Where most men seem like losers?
All I know is that I’m calculating my value. Like a Victorian, trying to weigh my looks and qualities against my odds on the dating market in order to come up with a reasonable formula for determining how much happiness I can expect in terms of really shallow attributes like looks, money, and ability to laugh at my jokes. I look at myself in the mirror and wonder what kind of a man I am worth. It is so awful to put it in those terms, but that’s how I think. I look at S., who works in this office, and I think, am I his physical equivalent? S. is about 5’4” and balding, and has unfortunately tried to counteract his receding hairline with some Miami Vice-era stubble, which is ill advised since he is kind of swarthy and it makes him look unkempt. No doubt he is a nice man, intelligent, kind, and reasonably rich. Am I the girl S (lacking the money, of course)? What I mean is, am I kidding myself by having crushes on these fey, waiflike boys with their skinny, arty bodies and esoteric music collections? I look at myself and wonder what my attributes add up to. I think, "Hmmm, I'm thin, that’s a plus." Then of course I have to modify my judgment and admit, “Well, not fat, anyway. I have a decent body for a 33 year old.” I go through all my features:
1. I look younger than my years (plus)
2. Very short (negative)
3. Bad skin (also negative)
4. But much improved in the last few months
5. Personality (a plus, if I am successful in hiding the deadly combination of self pity and arrogance.)
6. I’m intelligent. Or at least confident of my intelligence (a plus)
7. My career. Or the lack thereof (a negative)
8. Looks (a wash. I’m cute, but not pretty. I’m not being modest.)
9. Flirty. Or at least friendly, and good at putting others at ease. (plus)
10. But apparently physically not very warm (negative)
11. My body
Good points: curvy in a not blowsy way; nice ankles, small waist, sort of hourglass figure. Ish.
Bad points: Large thighs, upper arms and ugly nose. Oh, and lacrosse player calves.
NB: The latter bad points are sort of generic complaints, I suppose. Most everyone (women, I mean) I know complains about muscular calves and massive thighs. I can tolerate the calves and upper arms, but the thighs break my heart.
I haven't actually applied numerical values to these qualities, nor have I added them up, mostly because I am afraid I will end up heavily in the negative column. I try to be objective about this because … well ... I don’t want to keep waiting/trying for for My Type if he’s out of my league. I think I’d rather be alone than be with someone I wasn’t attracted to. Not that I couldn’t be attracted to someone that isn’t my type. It wouldn’t be so bad if I was a single mother at 40, would it? I might be ashamed of the cliché-ness of it, but it probably wouldn’t be so bad.