She Ventures Forth

In the U.S. we're obsessed with finding "The One." When we have relationships that don't end in marriage, we tend to see them as either stepping stones for our "real" relationship, or as stumbling blocks that have gotten in the way of our true path and destiny. The mindset of "The One" is what The Bachelor is based on. Never mind that the Bachelor is always sure his future wife is in the room of 25 women that the show has picked out for him, and never mind that he is (almost) always sure he has chosen the "right one" at the end of each season. This quest for perfect wedded bliss is what draws so many women into the series. We judge the female contestants based on what they do or don't do, and we try to mirror those in our own relationships so that we can find our special one. Even if we don't out and out say that we are mimicking or rejecting their behavior, I'm sure many of us sit in front of the TV screen going "Of course he rejected her," or, "What a nut case." Let's admit it, at times even the best of us can be catty bitches.

Women watch The Bachelor for the very same reason that it is criticized and made fun of. In all of its 14 seasons, only two couples have actually gotten married. One bride was the runner up swapped for the winner after the show was over, and the other couple weren't even on The Bachelor but The Bachelorette. Every other couple has split up, and often rather publicly. Not that there haven't been other Bachelor weddings, but these are made up of contestants who meet each other at Bachelor reunion events. Which makes sense. Let's face it, a room full of 200 plus people making up an equal number of men and women is much more likely to have lasting hookups than one contestant with 25, especially when the one goes around making out with multiple women at once.

As I watched the "Women Tell All" reunion episode tonight, it struck me that while the show purports to be about finding the ONE love of your life, maybe it isn't really so much about the destination as it is about the journey. What struck me today is that the current bachelor, Brad Womack, wouldn't let any girls apologize for anything they thought they did wrong. Ashley H., who had his heart from the beginning and let insecurity overwhelm her as the show went on, apologized to Brad on stage saying that she was at fault for things ending badly. He replied with something to the effect of, "Never apologize, because you are an exceptional woman. Maybe I just wasn't the guy to bring out that confidence in you." And really, can you blame her? I would be insecure too if a guy I had a great date with started kissing all these other girls. Who wouldn't get jealous? He had also sent away Ashley S. -- a girl much like myself who always has great first dates and then the guy says he's not looking for anything -- and she asked Brad tonight what he meant when he said she would make someone a wonderful wife, but not him. "Who am I to say if you would make a good wife or not?" he responded kindly, helping the girl realize she was not defective, just one girl that one guy didn't want to spend the rest of his life with. Who knows, this may all be a plot by the producers to boost women's ego and have them continue to watch the show, but it worked for me.

For the first time in a long time, my head is filled not with finding love, nor my medical condition, but with an entrepreneurial endeavor. For the past day and a half my roommate and I have been consumed with a business venture that kind of took on a life of its own. While because of my anonymity I won't go into the details of my idea, it combines my love of writing, my sappiness, my non-traditional upbringing, and my plethora of gay friends. Suddenly I'm not worried about what I will say to D or when I should say it. I write what I want, when I want, and he responds. In between his responses I'm not thinking about when I will receive the next one but am lost in my current project. Finally I have something I can focus my attention on even when in flareups, and with this quest, it's all in my hands. I do believe "The One" is out there, but making my own way is what's important right now. As is knowing that all those relationships that didn't turn into marriage (and the one that did) were not roadblocks or stepping stones but merely connections made between two people that had a start time and an end time. Sometimes things really are just that simple.

3..... 2..... 1.

The older I get, the more obsessed I become with finding some magic formula to make a man love me. Last year I read Why Men Love Bitches, Why Men Marry Bitches, Flirtexting, Make Every Man Want You, and How to be Wanted. I read countless articles about the clothes men like, how much makeup men like, the sexual positions men like, the kinds of things you should and shouldn't talk about, if you should wear your hair up or down, if you should or should not wear nail polish, and if you should call him or wait for him to call you. Then today I had my first therapy appointment for that thing that happened in my past which I cannot talk about. After the therapist heard the half hour version of my dysfunctional past, she said she would help me learn how to get my needs met in relationships. My tough and flippant facade was torn right down as I said between tears, "I can have needs?"

There are, of course, some needs that I've known I can have for some time, including the need to be emotionally and physically attracted to my partner. Unfortunately Captain SmartyPants was great on paper and great on the phone, but the spark was just not there in person. He texted after the date saying how much fun he had, and I texted back to be polite and because I want to give it one more shot before throwing in the towel. But as it's been four days now with no further contact, maybe he has realized that there is just nothing there. D, on the other hand, seems to have moved from "are we friends or something more" to "something more." I regret that I cannot tell you the details of this particular date due to us having mutual friends and my unexpected desire to maintain his privacy, but I will say that it was the best date I've had in a long time, and perhaps the most traditional date ever. The sparks were there, serious conversation was there, joking around was there, and mutual respect was definitely there.

I've been hooked on this season of The Bachelor, and just like with the self-help books I study and analyze who gets roses and who doesn't. On the surface it seems like the most unemotional yet emotionally available girls win the guy's heart. In romantic comedies it's the girl who runs away from love as it chases her down the street. But in real life, it's probably more akin to the episode of How I Met Your Mother where Lily falls apart at the sight of Marshall with another woman -- where she's not only emotionally available, but downright emotional. Sure, the episode may just be placating us girls who fear our wants and needs will drive men away, but as I sat on the proverbial (and actual) couch today, I was prodded to see emotions as healthy and normal. Now, this doesn't mean freaking out like I often do in an episode of PMDD, but it means recognizing that it's okay -- and even better -- to just be myself. Maybe it's the Not Feeling Worthy of Love that keeps me from getting it, not unworthiness itself.

And in fact, myself is just what I presented to D on our hang out / date / whatever it was. Sure, there was some strategy to winning D's affections. I spent time on my wardrobe, hair and accessories. But other than that I was just me. No game play, no falsity, and no thinking about what I should and should not say. I slipped by essentially apologizing for something after our date that didn't need an apology -- which is a defense mechanism I definitely need to work on. But as I wait expectantly for our next encounter, my therapist's words calm my over-analytical brain: You are worthy of love, just the way you are. No apologies, no exceptions.

Here is a link to a great article on the subject of needs:

Are You Too Needy? (Hint: The answer is not what you'd think!)

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(Oh, and the third guy I mentioned in my previous post? He got the boot after asking me if my "hanging out with a friend" on Friday night was actually a hot date. Well, it ended up being just that, but after only two emails and one text it definitely wasn't an appropriate question, and was, instead, a definite red flag. Maybe there are rules after all.)

Angels and demons

"D" is finishing up his work travels and is on his way back to town. If you don't remember, he's the guy I've met twice and have a maybe-date with when he resettles to the area. (Maybe-date.... What movie is that from? Help me out, girls.) While part of me is excited, part of me is nervous, and part of me knows that with the little bit I know about him it's silly to be either one, a larger part of me is just hoping that I don't end up behind the glass case.

One of my gay boys, my mutual friend to D, assured me that I'm awesome and that things will work out the way they're supposed to. While this is totally reassuring (and while I know he's right about the latter part of his statement), it's not self-esteem that I lack. What I doubt is how D, or the next guy, will react to their impression of my awesomeness.

Most guys beam at me, tell me over and over again how great I am, not because I want them to, but just because it comes gushing from their lips. They expouse my sweetness, my hotness, and my (at the time bad) novel which they put behind a glass case with their special 19th century hard cover classics (which they then study in grad-level literature). They tell professors that I am their favorite contemporary author when questioned in class. They exclaim over my perfect curls, my perfect teeth, my perfect puffy lips, and my great butt. Butttttt, they don't want to date me.

Now, this probably has nothing to do with fibromyalgia. I've attributed it mostly to being a black girl who loves to date white guys and the knowledge that white guys may not always want to date me. I also attribute it to the fact that a majority of my love interests end up being gay, and to frustratingly being labeled the "nice girl" like Tenley on the last Bachelor. (Yes, I watch too much reality TV). "You're perfect," Jake professed to the runner up for the engagement ring, "but there's something missing." "Something" being the daring younger woman who was the professed mean girl of the house. Aside from Gia who opened up too late, I, contrary to popular opinion, did find Vienna to be the best match for Jake. From the couple seasons I've seen, Bachelors usually go for the ones they feel they should like instead of the ones they most want to be with, so I applaud Jake for his choice. But, despite my rooting for Vienna, I cry for Tenley because I know exactly how she feels, and the frustration of Jake feeling she was too "good" for him. It's hard to be considered perfect when you're the one who gets passed by. Tenley shakes her head at Jake's compliment, not wanting to be labeled as something so intangible. Perfect can be isolating, perfect can be frustrating. Perfect can put you behind a glass case.

I do wonder, however, if having fibromyalgia is going make me seem even more perfect (read unattainable) than I did before. Friends and family constantly applaud me on my industriousness and lightheartedness in the face of illness. "I don't know if I could be as strong as you," they say. They think they would be less angelic, and as we all know, angels don't consort with humans. "Tragic mulattas" are always described as angelic as well, as I am realizing in my study of the genre, and sweet and tough straight girls are always angels to the gay men who adore them. While I love being adored and I love the men who adore me, maybe D, as a straight, Asian man who I assume doesn't read 19th century classics, will see me as the human that I am and "open my pages." Sorry, couldn't resist. ;)