Rejection and Acceptance
I'm sending stories out. Lots of stories. And it's exciting and scary and fun and not so fun. I feel like I'm moving forward but I might not be and somehow I don't care because I think might just be kidding myself into believing I am and maybe that's half the battle. And maybe that's enough. Still. The truth of the matter is that for acceptance, you have to face rejection. And there's no way around it.
The last date I went on (it was like a month or so ago), I didn't want to go. I was being set up by my neighbors. A perfectly lovely couple who are polite and kind and had first one cat and then another that they both like and they asked me to watch them both a few times and they brought me presents from their trip as a thank you and so how could I say no? I mean, they're a couple who paints the walls of their apartment together. They seem to get it. So I went.
In this set-up? They were the go betweens. I had no communication whatsoever with the guy. I knew nothing about him. No MO on his looks, his job, his life. They told me where to be and when. And I went. Fool? Well, yes. And then again, no.
It wasn't before Laura (aka Magick Lady) said to me at work, "You have a date tonight and you don't want to go." Okay, true. And true. The woman's a clairvoyant. There's really no lying. Next, she said, "he's not the one. So don't worry. Just go and have fun."
Okay. Me? I don't do that go-and-have-fun-because-he's-not-the-one thing anymore. I've done that. For like 37 years. Okay, truthfully maybe twenty. My mom was a kook and pulled me from more than one date in my teens thinking I was going to end up pregnant and ruin my life so the whole "have fun" thing wasn't really an option. Me? I lost my virginity at 21. So yes, I had some catching up to do. And sadly, I never really did it. So ho. Hum. Back to the situation at hand.
The other thing for me? I'm going to be 38 years old in a few weeks. I'm no spring chicken. (Discounting that I was born in spring) So how much fun can I really have anymore? Without looking sad? I mean, I had fun in college. I had fun in my 20s. Lots. Lots of friends. Lots of parties. Lots of canoodling (making out, really. but canoodling sounds cuter).
I'm at the age where I don't want someone who's disposable in my life and... fun. I want someone in my life who is solid and fun. And likes me. Loves me, even. There's a concept. If I want to have fun, I have lots of fun friends. If I want a man who's going to leave, I have a rolodex of my past. If I want to move forward. Well, I don't know... I'm still working on that one.
Anyway, back to the date. The entire time I was getting ready? I cried. The reason being? I haven't been "out there" since the ex-convict and the fireman. And I didn't have to go so far with them. The ex-convict was in my living room when I met him. The fireman? Some dive bar with a jukebox and a generous bartender. In short, I haven't tried to look cute and be attractive to someone new since I was 32 years old. That's six years ago. And then? I was tae-boing, had cute clothes, a good job and the self-confidence to match. Anymore, I didn't know how to present myself to someone as attractive. Someone that someone else would want to be with. I didn't think about how I might not want to be with him. That was all secondary. Because that wasn't the point.
Anyway, I didn't. Want to be with him. He was nice. Don't get me wrong. And a perfect gentleman. Just not the gentleman for me. And I think there was no question about the evening. There was no leaning in or thinking there was another date in the works. So. No rejection, no acceptance. Which was and wasn't a wonderful thing.
I'm not going to lie. I want Mr. Just Around The Corner to show up with bells, whistles, flowers. And to save me the rejection I've felt from so many men in the past. I want him to save me from having to compete with other women. Younger women who are more apt to project that they're something special, something sassy, something rare. I don't feel so much that way any more. I feel a little tired. A little less cut. A little more lined and like I could use a lot more botox.
Last year my birthday wish was that I would be taken to dinner by a man that loved me. Because. That's never happened. Not on my birthday. Not ever. And my wish this year? That I can handle the rejection a little bit more. That there are men who will do it a little less and that maybe in the process, there just might be acceptance.
The last date I went on (it was like a month or so ago), I didn't want to go. I was being set up by my neighbors. A perfectly lovely couple who are polite and kind and had first one cat and then another that they both like and they asked me to watch them both a few times and they brought me presents from their trip as a thank you and so how could I say no? I mean, they're a couple who paints the walls of their apartment together. They seem to get it. So I went.
In this set-up? They were the go betweens. I had no communication whatsoever with the guy. I knew nothing about him. No MO on his looks, his job, his life. They told me where to be and when. And I went. Fool? Well, yes. And then again, no.
It wasn't before Laura (aka Magick Lady) said to me at work, "You have a date tonight and you don't want to go." Okay, true. And true. The woman's a clairvoyant. There's really no lying. Next, she said, "he's not the one. So don't worry. Just go and have fun."
Okay. Me? I don't do that go-and-have-fun-because-he's-not-the-one thing anymore. I've done that. For like 37 years. Okay, truthfully maybe twenty. My mom was a kook and pulled me from more than one date in my teens thinking I was going to end up pregnant and ruin my life so the whole "have fun" thing wasn't really an option. Me? I lost my virginity at 21. So yes, I had some catching up to do. And sadly, I never really did it. So ho. Hum. Back to the situation at hand.
The other thing for me? I'm going to be 38 years old in a few weeks. I'm no spring chicken. (Discounting that I was born in spring) So how much fun can I really have anymore? Without looking sad? I mean, I had fun in college. I had fun in my 20s. Lots. Lots of friends. Lots of parties. Lots of canoodling (making out, really. but canoodling sounds cuter).
I'm at the age where I don't want someone who's disposable in my life and... fun. I want someone in my life who is solid and fun. And likes me. Loves me, even. There's a concept. If I want to have fun, I have lots of fun friends. If I want a man who's going to leave, I have a rolodex of my past. If I want to move forward. Well, I don't know... I'm still working on that one.
Anyway, back to the date. The entire time I was getting ready? I cried. The reason being? I haven't been "out there" since the ex-convict and the fireman. And I didn't have to go so far with them. The ex-convict was in my living room when I met him. The fireman? Some dive bar with a jukebox and a generous bartender. In short, I haven't tried to look cute and be attractive to someone new since I was 32 years old. That's six years ago. And then? I was tae-boing, had cute clothes, a good job and the self-confidence to match. Anymore, I didn't know how to present myself to someone as attractive. Someone that someone else would want to be with. I didn't think about how I might not want to be with him. That was all secondary. Because that wasn't the point.
Anyway, I didn't. Want to be with him. He was nice. Don't get me wrong. And a perfect gentleman. Just not the gentleman for me. And I think there was no question about the evening. There was no leaning in or thinking there was another date in the works. So. No rejection, no acceptance. Which was and wasn't a wonderful thing.
I'm not going to lie. I want Mr. Just Around The Corner to show up with bells, whistles, flowers. And to save me the rejection I've felt from so many men in the past. I want him to save me from having to compete with other women. Younger women who are more apt to project that they're something special, something sassy, something rare. I don't feel so much that way any more. I feel a little tired. A little less cut. A little more lined and like I could use a lot more botox.
Last year my birthday wish was that I would be taken to dinner by a man that loved me. Because. That's never happened. Not on my birthday. Not ever. And my wish this year? That I can handle the rejection a little bit more. That there are men who will do it a little less and that maybe in the process, there just might be acceptance.
posted by jodypwrites | 6:27 PM
3 Comments:
i just want you know that "mr right around the corner" is not only gonna show up with whistles, bells, and flowers.....but with much more than you can imagine!
oh and before i forget......you truely are a rockstar!
That seems like an awful lot of pressure to put on yourself and your date on a first date.
You can't worry about whether a guy is going to leave before he even gets there.
When someone says, "Just have fun," they're not telling you that you should think of your date as someone who's disposable.
They're saying: Enjoy yourself and maybe the other person will enjoy you. Yeah, I know. There's risk there. What if you enjoy yourself and, even scarier, enjoy him and he doesn't reciprocate?
Here's what: It's not your fault or your failure. It's not a referendum on your worthiness. It's one evening.
I get where you're coming from. You're tired of all the 'life is a journey not a destination' crap and you want to get somewhere already. Trust me, I know the feeling.
But if you can't enjoy the ride, you'll never get where you want to go.
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