Doubter's Prison

I'm in it. Doubter's prison. That's what I'm calling the paralysis by analysis that has gripped me in the wake of a wonderful weekend with Boston. Upon arrival into the city tonight, I was plagued with doubts about what I was doing with this guy. I've already told him that I'm in "sabotage mode" and he's told me that he's willing to deal with some of the crap that comes "within reason." Again, such a relative term. A deal-breaker for some is a deal-maker for others. For instance, I had a guy pull me in for a big bear hug when I told him that I, too, was 420 friendly (this is in the past, ahem, now I don't inhale). And another boyfriend call me a "druggie" for the same reason. Perception is reality.

Here's my perspective at the moment. I may very well be incapable of a healthy, happy relationship. There may be some truth to the allegations that I'm 1.) only happy when it rains, 2.)drawn to emotionally-unavailable men, and 3.)just plain crazy. Some of you may be compelled to rush to my side out of loyalty and the fact that my fears resonate with you and if I'm crazy, you're crazy, too. Others are nodding in agreement. You know who you are.

But here's the thing. There's always a "thing." In this case, it's this: if both of us are short, who's going to reach for things on the top shelf? Get a step ladder?! Where's the fun in that? But seriously, he's a petite man, sort of. OK, not really but I'm pulling away faster than a frat boy who just felt the transvestite's bulge and realized why it was called "The Crying Game." And I'd chalk it up to me just not feeling it and walk away except for this: I do like him, me thinks. We had a great time in Vegas, went shopping, drank pints at Blondie's. He even made me do a Jagermeister shot which took me straight back to sophomore year in college. The things I drank for a quick buzz. But I digress. I enjoy talking to him, I enjoy hanging out with him, he doesn't say things that make me cringe and is pretty intuitive. And while I was with him, I was fine with the height thing but it's when I look back on it and picture us together that I get all weirded out. Why can't he be TALL?!!

And, finally, here's what makes me see what others who deem me crazy see. I have been dumped by guys shorter than Boston. One was a sportscaster who told me he didn't like to fish from the company pier- the use of the term alone should have disqualified him- then proceeded to shack up with another co-worker. Then there was the guy I met from the U.A.E. He really was a petite man and yet, I didn't bat an eye. But he was in love with his ex who had just married someone else and broke his tiny heart. Maybe it was the challenge factor that blurred the height issue. My point, and I swear I'm getting to it, is that it's not a well-established deal breaker. So why am I freaking out?!

Vertical challenges

For some reason, Boston still likes me. He was unfazed by my shallow google search of Jermaine Dupre's height. He's very clear about how things are. "You're crazy and neurotic and I can deal with that but I can't deal with you being selfish." Selfish. That word is thrown around so liberally. I mean aren't we all selfish? You reading this blog is a form of entertainment (some days more than others) and that's a bit self-indulgent. Being self-indulgent can be construed as selfish.

His warning stemmed from an earlier declaration that I do expect men to pay for dinner on the first date. If, for no other reason, as compensation for the pleasure of my company. Wait, that makes me sound like a prostitute. It started with, "I'll buy you dinner on Saturday," before his arrival. "Of course you will," I replied.

I'm slowly getting past the height issue but remain in sabotage mode. For instance, tonight when he called me after a really long day, I blurted out, "You're not a bullshitter are you?" Freakshow. That's me. I was suddenly overcome with doubt about whether he was an up and coming filmmaker or.. full of shit. "Where is this coming from?" Boston always cuts to the chase. "I was just thinking that I don't know that much about what you do at this production company, I mean we've never talked about it." It sounds dumb now but at the time it sounded dumber. "Then ask THAT," he directed, did I mention he's a director? I concurred that I should be more direct and less shady about my inquiries in the future. I know some of you are rooting for Boston and are disgusted at my overt efforts to derail this love train but I'M TRYING!!! You can't expect me to deconstruct years of programming in one week. I'm used to men being myopic, insincere, and judgmental. Playing on a level field is a bit daunting.