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Archive for November, 2009

You know that drinking game, right? The one where you say “I’ve never…” followed by the admission of something you’ve never done (duh). And then anyone else in the room who has done what you’ve admitted to never doing has to take a drink. Theoretically the drunkest person in the room is also the sluttiest, as these games often degrade into talk of anal sex and bukkake parties gone awry. (See here for Family Guy’s example).

Keeping in the theme this week, which is apparently “Amanda Sucks At Dating”, I thought I’d offer you my own version of “I’ve Never”, centered entirely around my love life and lack thereof. Feel free to drink up as often as you like. If you’re inclined to stay sober, then free free to point and laugh your ass off.

• I’ve never had a guy tell me that I’m attractive. The closest I ever got was when a high school boyfriend’s little brother told me that my boyfriend had shown my picture to his family just after we started dating and said “Isn’t she HOT?!” Unfortunately the little brother didn’t indicate whether or not the vocal inflection used was indicative of praise or sarcasm. He also didn’t include the feedback received from the family members that were present.
• I’ve never held hands in public with someone I’m dating. This isn’t by my doing. That’s for damn sure.
• I’ve never dated someone who expressed a Public Display of Affection towards me in any way, shape, or form. Really? It’s not like I’m the damn Hunchback of Notre Dame.
• I’ve never had a guy express anything towards me on Valentine’s Day. Not even the ones I was dating during the damn holiday. Not even a card. And yeah, I hate that stupid holiday anyway because it’s just an excuse for women to bilk tons of crap out of men, but still. Could there have not been at least a tiny bit of effort? Even just a fucking hug?
• I’ve never had casual sex. Not sure if this is a bad thing either. For me, sex is kind of important in terms of taking a relationship to the next level. I don’t make the decision to sleep with someone lightly. So to treat it like it’s just another activity, like knitting or gaming, just cheapens the entire affair as far as I’m concerned.
• I’ve never had sex with a guy who understood the point above or cared that I’d chosen them to be intimate with. I’m sorry, not to sound conceited, but my body is a fucking temple as far as I’m concerned. There ought to be some sort of semblance of honor when I grant a man access to worship it accordingly. I think I deserve at least that much. We all do, to be honest.
• I’ve never gone on an actual date. Yeah, once or twice in high school I went to the movies with a guy and a group of friends, and I think once in my adult life I may have gone on a similar type of date. But the whole guy-picks-girl-up-dinner-&-a-movie-goodnight-kiss-on-the-porch rigmarole? Nada.
• I’ve never dated a guy who didn’t in some way make me feel awful about myself. If they weren’t telling me I was fat or ugly, they were calling me a dumb cunt, a stupid whore, or just plain cheating on me. And the one guy who didn’t fall into those categories expressed his displeasure for me by dumping me without saying a word. He just stopped calling, coming over, or even talking to me. And men wonder why women date other women.
• I’ve never experienced actual romance. Ever. I’m not even sure I’d know what romance was even if it jumped up and bit my nipples off.
• I’ve never had anyone use a pickup line on me. Though I’ve heard my fair share of pickup lines, they were always used on the person sitting adjacent to me. I’m not sure if this is really a bad thing, though.
• I’ve never been the girl who wasn’t being distracted by the wingman. You know how in bars, there’s a pair of girls, and a guy will have his buddy – his “wingman” – run interference with the less attractive of the two so the guy can mack on the hot one? I’ve always ended up with the wingman. Always.
• I’ve never had a guy ask me to dance. At least, not one that wasn’t drunk and high in a bar in the Tenderloin of San Francisco.
• I’ve never truly been in love. Oh, I’ve loved past boyfriends. But to me there’s a distinction between loving someone and being in love with someone. Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever truly fall in love.
• I’ve never had a guy buy me flowers. It’s not something I require or expect. But, y’know. You see it happen to others and you wonder what’s so wrong with you that you can’t even elicit a bunch of daisies from a dude.
• I’ve never had a guy buy me a drink. Ok, look dude, you could do worse in this bar. Trust me. I’ve seen my competition.

Ah, that’s enough for now. Tomorrow we’ll play the reverse game…”I Have…” cuz holy shit, you will not believe some of the crap I can drop into your lap. I promise the remainder of this week is going to be full of amusing shit. And you’ll probably have a better understanding of WHY I AM THE WAY I AM.

“How is a great girl like you still single?”

The question caught me completely off-guard. You’d think that being single as long as I’ve been, I would have heard this question and its variants a few dozen times or more. But no. This was the first time anyone had ever asked me. I suppose most people do wonder but are too damn polite to say anything for fear that it will hurt my feelings. With the wrong vocal inflection or phrasing, it could come across as “What’s wrong with you that you’re not married and squirting out babies already? Don’t you know that you’re blazing right past your prime, you old bag you?”

Thankfully, the person who made the inquiry was asking because he seems to think I’m some kind of catch and that it’s just weird that nobody would have snapped me up by now. I’m sure there’s a definite undertone of “So…are you a psycho or something?” but for the most part he’s genuinely perplexed by the idea that I’ve not been snapped up already.

You won’t believe this, but I actually had to sit down with a pad of paper and my favorite black Cristal Bic pen and brainstorm an answer. I guess that I really hadn’t given it much thought, though it has definitely been a conscious decision to remain single for so long (almost six years). It’s also a decision I’m glad I made because for a while there, a dangerous pattern was emerging in my struggle to find joy with another person. I was like a shanty-town squatter, erecting a false front of happiness on one derelict relationship after another. Suffice it to say, my judgment when it came to men had been very poor up to the point where I called it quits.

The breaking point for me was engaging in a relationship with a guy whom I had liked for years. He’d previously admitted to liking me as well, and so I gave in and handed my heart to him wrapped in a pretty red bow, a mistake that I would spend the next five or so years rectifying as I struggled and fought to get my heart back. Because I don’t know exactly what went on in his head at the time, I can’t for sure know if his feelings were real and he got cold feet or if he just wanted me for the booty call. One of these days I will have enough gumption built up to ask him for an explanation. For now, I’m OK not knowing.

After that, it was all pretty much downhill from there. I tried again and failed miserably at the game of love a year later, at which point I was so depressed that I actually couldn’t be bothered to shower for days on end. My coworkers may remember this time as “Amanda Sure Wore Her Hair in a Ponytail A Lot, Didn’t She?”

And so I cut myself off. From men. From women. From dating. From sex. Trust me, it was safer that way. The unexpected benefit of this was that as I slowly dragged myself back out of the mire, I got to focus on me for a change. I spent more face-time with good friends, I regained my appetite for devouring books by the boxload, I explored about a dozen new and different hobbies that I’d never taken the time for. Best of all, I finally took my education to the next level, because I was ready for a change. Without a relationship or even dating to distract me, I was able to focus on my studies and excel in a field I’d wanted to pursue since the tender young age of twelve.

During my hiatus from dating, I put out enough of a “fuck off” vibe that it was rare that I would be approached by anyone. Yeah, flirting took place every now and then, but it seemed more of an abstract concept to me than a social norm. I have pretty eyes? Yeah, that’s awesome. Now where did I put my chemistry book?

I think, though, that it’s finally time to lift my Manda Quarantine and tromp out into the world to explore some possibilities. I have five months of school left, I’m taking a short break before grad school, I’m financially comfortable enough to become independent of my current living arrangement, and really…why not now? Nothing is going to change so much in the next six-nine-twelve months that it would be prudent to wait any longer. Amanda is back on the market and the realtor’s sign is staked out on the front lawn. Open for business, boys and girls. Get me into escrow while you can!

So there you have it. I’m not really broken. I don’t know that I ever really was.

They make these power supplies for your computer containing a type of fuse that, when a serious electrical issue arises, will blow and shut the entire unit down in an act of self-preservation. It then repairs itself and, once the danger has passed, returns good as new. Damage was done, fuse was blown, danger has passed. Here I am, good as new.

Feel free to jot my number on a few bathroom walls to show your support.