Cents and sensibility

In "Sense and Sensibility," Elinor tells Marianne that whatever Mr. Willoughby's current actions are, she should know that his attentions to her were honorable, and that she did love him. "But not enough," replies Marianne. "Not enough."

I recite this scene (for I never remember passages) whenever someone who has shown interest in me decides not to pursue it to the next level. In my 20's this recitation was done with melancholy grandeur, but these days it's more just a shrug of the shoulders, filled with slight irritation instead of desperation.

Today I get to be the one who is interested, but not enough. When "A" finally wrote me a week ago, with a one-liner asking me how I was doing, I decided not to reply. "If he's really interested," I thought to myself, "he'll write again." Well, he's written again ("Is everything okay? No replies?") and I realize the more time elapses from our first date the more I don't want a second one. Sure, if he had followed through with the wine tasting that I had to reschedule before its first go-round to do my summer cold, I would have hopped in the car the next week and made a day of it. But I can say with pretty clear certainty that the only reason he's writing now is because I didn't write back the first time, and that's not enough reason to keep up a correspondence.

Now, usually when I have a dating decision to make, such as whether to reply to a long overdue email, I think about all the "rules" I've read, realize I should play hard to get, and then end up contacting him within 24 hours anyway. But this time, thanks to How to Make Every Man Want You, I realized that I don't want a guy who is so flaky, because I'm awesome just the way I am and I deserve more than that. Way to go Marie Forleo for finally breaking through this thick skull and giving me desirability due to increased self worth and not due to attempts at relational trickery.

One major way the book helped me, which I mentioned in my previous post, is to live like things are just as they are supposed to be right now. That means no waiting for some future date where my life will be perfect because I will finally have lost those 5, 10, 15 pounds, gotten my health back, moved into my own apartment, and started my dream job. Sure, she says, you should always strive for what you want, but don't forget to live in the moment and cherish your life as it currently is. This is empowering advice for me, as I just applied for food stamps, will find out next week if I qualify for state disability (outlook: promising), and will probably have to take one more semester to finish my Master's. (That's a total of three semesters for two classes.)

Part of me is freaking out at being so limited in my ability to rise above my current station. At one point in my family's history we had money. My mom and I did not, and as any "true American" I was set on getting back to my middle class roots, to have a (small) place of my own and furnish it myself with things bought from a JC Penneys catalog. I was looking forward to getting a lime green VW Beetle and living in the city, or at least living above a Safeway and being able to go downstairs to buy my own groceries. While I'm not letting go of this dream (especially the living above Safeway part), I've realized that I have to live my life as if things will never change, while continuing to push each day for my own small mark on the world. I might be facing poverty like the Dashwoods, but they pressed on, kept their irresistability, and created lives for themselves.