As many of my stories seem to start, I met a guy a few weeks ago. On paper, this hipster wanna-be seemed to be ok. We're not talking Prince Charming material here, but bearable.
Some point after our meeting, I believed him to be of the penis persuasion. I know, I know, how dare I? Yet, when Facebook tells me that he's interested in Men, there's only so many conclusions I can come up with, you know?
I found myself feeling relaxed about the whole situation, though some times I just wanted him to STFU, because in my mind he was of the same persuasion I was -the penis one.
That was until he asked me out. No rodeo, no bullshit. Though I found him highly annoying, I found this refreshing. So I accepted the following:
- Facebook must be wrong about his penis persuading ways.
- The date.
- It couldn't hurt because how often do we give people chances? Not enough.
That's when I got this nagging feeling there was something wrong with me. I didn't feel excited about the hiking date, even though it was something that I'd been looking forward to ever since I moved here for graduate school.
In fact, I dreaded the experience for days on end.
It didn't matter that this guy seemed to be very into me and that he would be in contact with me every single day, not obscuring his motives. In my mind, that just made him more annoying and more repulsive.
Infinitively less repulsive to my mind was the other guy, hot-and-cold. He also didn't have the cuttings to be Prince Charming, but had somehow snuck into the place I thought no one was ever allowed again. Perhaps it was the intricacies of what we were and weren't, and the games that we both played with delayed words and prolonged absences that made it scintillating. The more the hipster wanna-be persisted, the more I wanted hot-and-cold to be the one initiating contact and being persistent.
I started wondering what the hell was wrong with me. Here I was, single and willing to put up with the emotional toying of a man who should know better, all the while ignoring the advances of someone who was clearly interested.
This line of thinking is a dangerous one. I should've known better because this line of thinking leads to my using my magical thinking. Using such thinking, I convinced myself that hipster wanna-be deserved a chance, after all, even if I wanted to slap him every time he was unrealistically mellow and optimistic.
I should've stepped away from magical thinking, I should've known my mind is capable of convincing itself of things that it has no business convincing itself of.
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