Me and Men

About seven or eight years ago, one of my oldest and dearest friends tried to set me up on a blind date. The guy ditched me (called half an hour before the date to say he had a sore throat), and then blogged about his close call. The only differences between what he did to me back then and what I'm doing now are that I actually went on the dates and gave the guys a chance, and as far as I'm aware, the gentlemen are not among my readers.

Yes, friends, without meeting me even once, he bragged about how horrible I was on a blog of which he knew I was a reader. A clear winner. Compared to him, these men are Galahad, Lancelot, Bedevere, and Percival.

I don't date much. I recently had a flurry of dating activity (four different gentlemen asked me out within about three weeks. It was bizarre), so I got to know four different men, and compare their dating styles. It was delicious!

The first flake (no insult intended) in the flurry was a kind, spiritual man. I loved hearing his life story and the outline of his first novel. Our date was full of peace and smiles and good food (it's not a date unless there's food). After the date we were still friendly enough to joke around at church, but he didn't ask me out again. In a way, I respect that. I would not have been able to accept a second date because I am certain we were not well matched. Despite the lack of follow-through (sadly common in my culture) I'm grateful to have gotten to know him.

The second date was just a heartbreak waiting to happen. He was a very good fit for me in many ways, with considered opinions and a gift for conversation. But as I got to know him over the course of about two weeks, I realized how badly I wanted a future more in keeping with my religious convictions. In three or four conversations I already cared for him on several levels, but I had to warn him that there was no future in it. After that warning, I didn't hear from him except the odd, meaningless text. So I let him know that I was grateful for getting to know him, and let the friendship close. I know nothing about how he feels, and that bothers me, but I have to let it go: he's not for me, despite his mad dating skills. I have never met a man with so much game.

The third date was uncomfortable. He was generous and kind and showed a depth of sentiment unusual in my experience, but he didn't read the signs, or notice what was really happening on my side of the conversation. So I said goodbye, and then in our follow-up conversations made it clear that I would not pursue a relationship with him. After that, our communication broke completely. Unfortunately, it didn't stop. Our conversations are exclusively via text, and they are riddled with misunderstandings and confrontation. 

Finally, I was asked out by a gentle and optimistic man who lives in another state. The fourth date was educational on more levels than all the others. I learned about aquatic animals. I touched a starfish. I saw sharks feeding! I learned sign language over dinner at Wendy's. And I learned how little interest I had in learning sign language that way. And how much I dislike being lectured by a date, and how much I have gotten used to having my door opened. So, not a romantic date at all, but a fun outing with a friend. This person and I are still penpals, and I hope to remain friendly.

*sigh* I hoped to remain friendly with all of them, but I suspect that as with everyone else, it is impossible. I will teach them all to hate me, one way or another.

But what I learned most about was not the men: people are too complex to be completely understood in a few hours' conversation. What I learned most about was me. Maybe the information is useless: maybe I'll never be asked out again (in a universe of unquantifiable possibility, I accept that one, too), but I know there is room in my life for men. This is news.

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