Liking Someone is Teh Suck

I’ve recently met someone I actually like. This is an incredibly unusual occurrence for me in recent years. I’ve met people I’ve been attracted to. I’ve met people with whom I enjoy spending time. I’ve met people who make me laugh. Still, that perfect storm that causes those crazy/mushy/hopeful/ridiculous sentiments has been absent.

After what seems like a perpetual cycle of lukewarm dating experiences, I am surprised to find myself legitimately engrossed in the character of one particular individual. It’s completely unnerving.

The feelings don’t run terribly deep. We’ve only hung out a couple times—and, due to extraneous circumstances, our interactions will inevitably end soon—but it’s prompted something more than I’ve encountered in awhile.

I am used to having this sense of control over my dating situations. It’s not that I’ve lost all of my faculties over this guy. However, I am finding myself parsing conversations for subtext, analyzing his actions and reconsidering my own—general nervous, school-girl behavior one exhibits upon developing a crush. All of this is absolutely unnecessary especially taking into consideration the fact that this guy is one of the most straightforward people I’ve ever met. The situation is completely devoid of the weird games and tactics that usually come with the dating scene. Regardless, the over-thinking, silly stupidity has reared its foolish little head and it sucks.

It’s not even that the feelings are unreciprocated; he seems to genuinely like me. I just find myself actually looking forward to seeing him, and my mind does that terrible wandering thing where I find it flitting over thoughts of him without any conscious direction on my part—it’s gross. I like to think that I’ve become relatively unflappable in my interactions with members of the opposite sex, but something about this boy seems to have struck my Achilles’ heel.

It’s not a dire situation by any means, but it’s as bit uncomfortable knowing that someone has even the slightest ability to impact my pragmatic, empirical outlook on romance. It makes me feel awkwardly fifteen again. Some people live for this feeling. They love the dizzy high brought on by infatuation. Those people are crazy. Still, I guess there is really nothing to do at this point, nothing but to embrace this inconvenient giddiness and hope that I make it out with my delightful cynicism still intact.

White Whales and Missed Opportunities

I would guess that everyone has one or two people in their lives who have potential to be the ideal mate but for one reason or another the romantic paths never converged long enough for anything to truly develop, leaving the individuals with pangs of what ifs and if onlys. As a person who still stupidly believes in “the one” I can allay these regretful thoughts with comforting platitudes about how if it was meant to be it, it would be. Still, I can’t help but wonder if there were risks one or both individuals were willing to take or if they possessed a stronger will to make it happen, it would.

Maybe the one who never quite got away possesses some untouchable, unicorn-like quality only because the relationship didn’t come to fruition. Perhaps if it had, the mystical luster would evanesce and the relationship would crumble, leaving the disjointed lovers in the same position they were before they started, but without the hopeful anticipation of what could have been. So is it best to always wonder about love that could have been if circumstances would allow, or to come crashing to the realization that the only reason the unrequited love lingered for so long is that you never got the opportunity to experience the person’s deal-breaking pit falls?

I guess in reality if both parties care about each other enough to form a relationship that is destined to last, circumstantial limitations, although challenging, would not be the deciding factor in the success of a relationship. In reality these missed opportunities may not be anything more than an unobtainable white whale who gives you some level of romantic purpose to prevent from being completely discouraged and disheartened during inevitable dry spells along the journey to the perfect love.
I’ve found that when I am in a happy relationship my white whale(s) seldom crosses my mind and I realize that my hopes of us ever making things happen parallel silly fairy tales designed to cultivate romantic ideals that are never realized in a world where practicality and sensibility hold far more weight than quixotic dreams of prince charming. However, as the relationship starts to head south and I find myself navigating the waters of singlehood, Moby-Dick resurfaces and stirs up the lingering delusions of happily ever after that I’ve built around him.


Perhaps it isn’t that this individual isn’t the perfect man so much as he is the perfect way to keep the faith.
Though in all likelihood the relationship may never become anything more than what it is, but until the perfect one comes along, it sustains my belief in love with the idea that if a few pieces fell into place, he could be the perfect one. Only time will tell if any of these possibilities could legitimately become a reality or if it’s best that they remain nothing more than a what if.


I don’t know that anyone else needs these possibilities to uphold their faith in romance, but I can’t imagine I’m completely alone in this. Relationships are messy and disheartening and I think idealized views of potential mates are the only thing that keep us in the game sometimes.

As the Clock Winds Down, Pickings Grow Slim

I had lunch with a friend the other day and she impressed upon me the urgency of “settling down” because we weren’t getting any younger and soon all the good ones were going to be taken. I quipped that I’d get my shot at a good one on the next round after the divorces. In all honesty, I was slightly taken aback and even a little offended by the comment. Does the fact that I’m not married mean that not only have a passed up the opportunity to find a good man, but I, myself, am not included in the good batch because if I were, I would be snapped up already? At 25 I hardly feel that I’m at an age where I’ve been completely passed over in the marriage department.

I prefer to think that it’s the complete opposite. Perhaps settling down quickly and early is more settling than anything. Lucy Maud Montgomery once said that young marriage is a sure indication of second-rate goods that had to be sold off in a hurry. Rather than take a chance at finding true happiness, individuals just take what they can get when they get it.

It’s true that the dating field shrinks as we get older and people get married, but I’ve interacted with a number of married men who certainly don’t strike me as the pick of the litter. Maybe the good ones are more selective, maybe they are taking the time to become the individuals they want and need to be to contribute all that they can to a lasting, worthwhile marriage.

I’m not saying people can’t find the love of their life at a young age, I’ve touched on this before, some people are incredibly fortunate in this realm, but I think the majority of people need time to mature and become a complete person before getting married. I also think that this maturation has slowed for many people, the college years are prolonged by four-year degrees that are drawn out to five, six or seven years.

So although the selection is shrinking as we age, in some cases it may be getting better as some of the duds are being weeded out as they head down the aisle. There aren’t many people who wish they had gotten married at an earlier age, and even fewer who wish this for the sole reason that if they had, they wouldn’t have missed out on some fantastic catch that they haven’t met yet.

I personally don’t regret not marrying any of my past boyfriends. They would have been my only ticket to a younger marriage, and if those are my only options, I’d rather settle comfortably into my role as an old maid.