Apparently, I'm not the only love pariah. Of course I'm not! But what's surprising is how many women have created the same blog. (Sigh) I can't even bask in the creation of a neoteric blog because it's far from unique, it's cliche. As hard as I tried to be tragic, I was in fact constantly reminded of my good fortune with friends popping out of the woodwork to praise me for random things like my great shoes, choice of nail polish and cynical musings.
I had been sharing my plight with various coworkers who only knew me as the freelance field producer who flits in and out of the newsroom every several weeks. One of those colleagues, who will henceforth be known as hot printer guy, was the hot research assistant who sits next to the printer. At the risk of sounding redundant, allow me to elaborate- he's hot and his desk is next to my my assigned printer. What? I said redundant.
Anyway, I had been sharing my trials and tribulations with him regarding the lazy-eyed guy who had dissed me after I checked every don't on the list of dating do's and don't's. Then, in a flash of brilliance or blatant stupidity (for now I'll choose to characterize it as genius), I thought, "why are you putting hot printer guy in the friend zone, HELLO?" So I started flirting with him via email and we ended up going out for drinks. Yes, it's Ramadan, what are you, the Taliban? Add kafir to my list of flaws, see if I care.
We talked for about three and a half hours over vodka tonics and established the following: 1) hot printer guy thought I was hot from day one whereas he popped up on my radar just 24 hours prior to our pseudo-date, 2) hot printer guy is squeamish about office romance, 3) I'm not really inter-office material since I'm usually on the road and rotate desks vacated by staffers who are ooto ('out of the office' for those of you blessed with ignorance of corporate acronyms) and, 4) he was not a 'quick fix.'
At one point, he came dangerously close to kissing me and I leaned in and whispered, "we're not having our first kiss in this bar." He relented and then suggested he kiss me in the rain outside which was romantic but that plan was thwarted by an endless stream of Cliff Claven-esque babble I opted to spout off instead of appearing demure and well, kissable. So then he was going to kiss me in the subway station and that was just sordid so we decided to wait until our first date. That was Thursday and despite my less than subtle attempts at discovering when that date may come ("so when are we going out?" I know. CRINGE), I still don't know. I just don't know. But I'm going to play by the rules. Stand-by for upcoming update on how long that sadly doomed plan will last.
Saturday, October 14, 2006
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
Perception is Reality
If perception is reality, then is it possible to perceive blatant failure and humiliation as an unnecessary rebuke? Maybe this email I received from the admittedly ugly yet marginally sexy guy who lives in another state, doesn't get out of bed all day (he "works from home"), and only calls me after 9 p.m. PST because he doesn't have daytime minutes on his calling plan; is actually his way of pushing away the love of his life. Because if that's not the case, I'm a bigger loser than I thought.
Here's an edited version (I took out tangential details that spare no humiliation but are esoteric to you). This was in response to an email from me attempting to be "light and airy" but then demanding to know why I hadn't heard from him in two weeks:
hey,I know it's been a while since we've spoken. I've been super busy (blah, blah, blah). When I'm not busy with that stuff I'm usually doing work for Kaiser or sleeping...usually sleeping.
I started to read this email thinking, "wow, this is actually a "normal"email, no over analyzing, no negativity, no histrionics, " but then I got to the second half. Granted it has been a while since we've communicated, and we did go from one extreme to the other; I think partly due to the fact that it's a super busy time for me, and partly not wanting to dealwith these "talks". I had picked up the phone to call you several times, but then I realized it would just be another "one of those"conversations...and honestly I just didn't have the time nor the energy todeal with it. I realize that's harsh. Then I asked myself why don't I have the time or enegy to deal with it and I came to the conclusion that I justdon't have the same feelings that you do.At this point it just seems like you want something more out of this relationship than I am able to give. I'm not at the point where I feel like calling or writing everyday or even every week. I'm just not. I'm sorry. Ijust don't feel the same way that you do. That doesn't mean that I don't care about you, just that my involvement is at a different level than yours. I really do enjoy the time we spend together, and I really do miss you, butin light of everything I really question our romantic compatibility.
THE END
OK, let's review. This was my FRIEND. Yes, I actually made the mistake of crossing the line with a friend because happily married former singletons always claim that's the best starting point. So much for that.
Here's an edited version (I took out tangential details that spare no humiliation but are esoteric to you). This was in response to an email from me attempting to be "light and airy" but then demanding to know why I hadn't heard from him in two weeks:
hey,I know it's been a while since we've spoken. I've been super busy (blah, blah, blah). When I'm not busy with that stuff I'm usually doing work for Kaiser or sleeping...usually sleeping.
I started to read this email thinking, "wow, this is actually a "normal"email, no over analyzing, no negativity, no histrionics, " but then I got to the second half. Granted it has been a while since we've communicated, and we did go from one extreme to the other; I think partly due to the fact that it's a super busy time for me, and partly not wanting to dealwith these "talks". I had picked up the phone to call you several times, but then I realized it would just be another "one of those"conversations...and honestly I just didn't have the time nor the energy todeal with it. I realize that's harsh. Then I asked myself why don't I have the time or enegy to deal with it and I came to the conclusion that I justdon't have the same feelings that you do.At this point it just seems like you want something more out of this relationship than I am able to give. I'm not at the point where I feel like calling or writing everyday or even every week. I'm just not. I'm sorry. Ijust don't feel the same way that you do. That doesn't mean that I don't care about you, just that my involvement is at a different level than yours. I really do enjoy the time we spend together, and I really do miss you, butin light of everything I really question our romantic compatibility.
THE END
OK, let's review. This was my FRIEND. Yes, I actually made the mistake of crossing the line with a friend because happily married former singletons always claim that's the best starting point. So much for that.
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
Born of Frustration
I'm a love pariah. How else do you explain the parade of non-committal, emotionally unavailable and judgmental men in my life? It's so sad, it's funny and it's that humor or desire to share my misery that's overshadowed my hubris, allowing me to chart this course in anonymity.
First, let's meet me. I'm a 30-something TV journalist in New York City. Currently, I work for a network and travel extensively. Have you seen me on-air? Perhaps. I worked as a local news reporter for several years before moving to the Big Apple. Now I spend my time covering murders and on occasion covering humanitarian crises. That's all I'll divulge right now, stay tuned.
I've kept a journal for several years and it's probably the most incriminating thing I've ever done. All those thoughts spilled onto hundreds of pages which are all awaiting discovery by my grief-stricken mother when I die, or worse, yet another judgmental man who I unwittingly believe is Mr. Right. Usually he's not even Mr. Right Now, more like, Mr. He'll Do because I'm (choose one) bored, lonely, or panicked.
First, let's meet me. I'm a 30-something TV journalist in New York City. Currently, I work for a network and travel extensively. Have you seen me on-air? Perhaps. I worked as a local news reporter for several years before moving to the Big Apple. Now I spend my time covering murders and on occasion covering humanitarian crises. That's all I'll divulge right now, stay tuned.
I've kept a journal for several years and it's probably the most incriminating thing I've ever done. All those thoughts spilled onto hundreds of pages which are all awaiting discovery by my grief-stricken mother when I die, or worse, yet another judgmental man who I unwittingly believe is Mr. Right. Usually he's not even Mr. Right Now, more like, Mr. He'll Do because I'm (choose one) bored, lonely, or panicked.
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