Dating is Miserable but it’ll get you laid

Wouldn’t it be great if the Xanax Fairy was real?

This weekend fucked me up mentally.

I was laying in bed late one night when my e-mail indicator went off on my Blackberry. I rolled over to see if it was work and felt figuratively bitch smacked in the face.

I had a comment approval request on DiM from Brohammer.

Considering the only interaction we've had since he ended things last year were two very businesslike transactions, I was floored he was reading my self absorbed writings on my pathetic dating life. Perhaps it was morbid curiosity, perhaps it was nostalgia, perhaps he put me on google reader and forgot I was the writer behind it, perhaps he reads it and mocks me with his new girlfriend, or maybe he gets off on being written about. Whatever it was/is, it rocked me in the style of the Scorpions.

Here is the kicker, when I received the e-mail I was not...um...exactly..uhh...alone. I rolled over, looked at the sleeping great smile with abs I want to hand wash all my clothes on, and immediately wanted to bolt out of the room screaming. I spent a good portion of the weekend trying to figure out exactly which chemical in my warped brain was so severely imbalanced to cause a fight or flight response. I was feeling pretty miserable, dejected, damaged, and lonely when my friend Donnelly sent me a really great article by Rachel Howard over at 7x7 which attempts to process the lack of commitment and wandering eye (two of Brohammer's biggest problems) so often associated with San Francisco.

"Hold on,” she said. “Two weeks ago this guy was a cad, and now you’re
smitten? Is it possible you go for commitment-phobic guys because you’re
actually terrified too?”

I thought about the interested men I had passed on, some just as attractive
and talented as Paul, with only one discernible flaw: They seemed genuinely
available. When I tried to picture having a relationship with one of them, it
freaked me out in a similar way to the squirming discomfort I had felt during
the  three years I was married—a fear that I was stuck."

It finally all became clear. Since Brohammer I have purposefully set my sights on men who don't want commitment, won't be faithful, have Peter Pan syndrome, and/or will treat me bad because I'm absolutely terrified of being hurt again.

I dismissed The Mayor. I nitpicked the one issue I had with Boy 1 to death until the only option I saw was to let things fizzle. I've turned down dates with really nice guys because I didn't feel "a spark".  I've subconsciously imploded on men I'm just casually seeing because I know it'll end things before I have to become emotionally vested. I've been making myself as standoffish and unemotional as I've been claiming all men in San Francisco are.

I wish I could say this realization sparked some great personality transformation or prompted a new plan of action but I'm only human. In reality, it only made me wish for the Xanax Fairy.

Okay, I'm not that vapid, the article did make me take a long hard look at what I've been doing wrong (remember I've never claimed to be perfect) but sadly outside of acknowledging my past mistakes the only thing I could think to do was take more of Rachel's advice:

SF singles are trapped in this loneliness together. The women approach men
as enemy combatants, and then wonder why they cower. The men sense the
women’s disdain, and then wonder why they have trouble committing.
We needed a cease-fire, and someone had to lay down arms first. Why not me?