:: Life on Planet Dan-E ::
Thoughts, observations, and introspections from an
:: Thursday, September 10, 2009 ::
Labels: frustration, in a rut, introspective, women Labels: in a rut, introspective Labels: in a rut, introspective, job search, waiting Labels: dating, I'm an idiot, in a rut, introspective, the curator Labels: dating, in a rut, introspective, NaBloPoMo, server stories Labels: dating, I'm an idiot, in a rut, introspective Labels: dating, in a rut, introspective
:: Thursday, March 26, 2009 ::
A few of us at work were talking about wines and the topic turned to what our favorite drink is and what we would pair it with. There was a myriad of responses from a simple gin and tonic to Long Island Iced Teas. Parings ranged from cheese or sushi to "another one." My answer was, "my favorite scotch: Lagavulin 16 Year Old neat, water back."
"What would you pair it with?"
Without really thinking, almost instinctively my reply was "Good conversation with an attractive woman," almost under my breath, more to myself than anyone.
I haven't had much of a social life in that time other than post-shift beers at the local bar with co-workers, and the occasional non-date with one colleage who bears an uncanny resemblance to Kate Winslet. We work well together and she's one of maybe three out of the entire waitstaff that I can trust to get things done. But I don't like her that way; we're just friends (no benefits, but I also have my own reasons for not pursuing that path). All I know is that we always have fun when we hang out.
It's the conversation. She gives great conversation. No mention of any fledging acting or modeling careers, trying to get into some some chic new club, or some trite personal drama that's only worth a mention in her world. It always flows easily, topics are interesting, laughs are frequent, and there's few in any dead spots in the evening. She has this low-maintenance, goofball personality that some guys might find unrefined. I consider it charming. She even possesses the mature self-awareness to avoid those types of guys.
Of course, she has minor flaws. She smokes, drinks Miller LIte (yuck) and Heineken (bleh, though she does abhor White Zinfandel, which is always a plus), and she has a muffin top to match my spare tire. But that's nitpicking and I wouldn't change a thing about her. Look, we don't go out on dates; there's no romantic chemistry of any sort, but if they were dates they're more personally fulfilling than any real dates I've been on this year. Maybe it's me or maybe it's living in South Beach but something as simple as a woman who's good for conversation shouldn't be this difficult to find.
Or maybe it's me. I'm not an extrovert. When I talk I tend to be economical with my words so while I usually don't carry a conversation I can more than hold up my end. But as is always the case, and more in my case than others, some get me some don't. Kate luckily, gets me.
:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 12:13 AM [+] ::
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:: Tuesday, February 12, 2008 ::
The other, more important thing I've noticed is that the quality of my blogging seems to have declined in the last year or so. Maybe it's just me but it's lacking a certain energy that it can have when I'm "on." My blogs just don't seem as funny - to me - as they could be.
I'll be the first to admit that my humor is arcane and dark and some of the crap I write is just for me, but even that stuff has made me wonder where the funny went. I can still make my coworkers laugh with my various cracks and comments but when I sit down to blog it sometimes feels like I spend more time staring at the screen. Even my parenthetical quips aren't what they used to be.
It could just be writer's block but that would imply that I'm in some way a writer and "blogger's block" sounds like an intestinal problem (See what I mean? I'm resorting to borderline toilet humor here. I mean, I'm not above a good fart joke - or for that matter a good fart - but still.) Part of the reason is that I seem to blogging about the same shit lately. New job, football, baseball, my workers are drunks/funny/idiots, I can't get a woman to look at me if I self-immolate, I eat too much unhealthy junk and I love it, etc etc etc.
Odd thing is that my life doesn't seem repetitive. Just the blogging part. There's stuff going that I don't talk about, and there are many thing I just don't feel comfortable sharing with pretty much any one. I've written about some of this more personal stuff in the past and I felt like I was walking around with my fly down... and I forgot to wear underwear.
We'll see where this goes.
:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 9:52 PM [+] ::
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:: Sunday, December 09, 2007 ::
That said, to be completely honest, if they called me tomorrow, to come back to work I'd probably say yes Why? With Valentine's Day and the Miami Boat Show coming up, it's going to a very lucrative weekend. That’s it, nothing more. I don't have any attachment to anyone (other than My Buddy Chuck and The Hostess – and even that’s tenuous) or anything there.
My buddy Chuck (who would have legally changed his name to "My buddy Chuck" if I stayed there) called me the night after to see how I was doing. Even he thought it's probably for the best because he noticed my discontent and pointed wondered if might be because one of my old managers left. It did cross my mind in the past he may have a point.
Randy was a good manager and he took care of me. He never showed me any favoritism but he made sure I stayed busy. He wasn't a cupcake either because the few times I screwed up, big deal or not, he was never shy about voicing his displeasure. The manager who took over his spot isn't a bad person but she's the owner's lackey and clearly favors certain guys. It never got acrimonious between us but we never had the same rapport that Randy and I did and at times there was an uneasy tension between us. There was certain culture and a set of unwritten rules unrelated to my actual job responsibilities that I never bothered trying to conform to and that didn't sit well with some my superiors.
Anyway, Chuck also said half-jokingly that maybe I was trying to get fired. "Why do you say that?"
"This one night, I overheard you say something like, 'what the fuck do I have to do to get fired from this place.'"
"Which time was that?" "Hahaha. I know you and I know when you're joking and that time, it didn't seem like you were joking."
But the weather today has been dreary and my mood has matched. Last week I spent roughly eight hours filling out applications or dropping off resumes and came home with two solid leads. Both managers I talked to said something along the lines of "I'll call you Saturday to let you know when you'll start training." Not wanting to test fate, I still went to other places, just to be sure. Nothing. I called both places as well as a couple of others to follow up. Nothing.
I would have resumed my search today except for the rain and I couldn't find my umbrella (which is so lame). Hopefully, the weather will improve tomorrow, or maybe one of the places will finally call. Either way, I need to get back out there in the morning and find something soon.
If you're wondering why I'm not more focused on my advertising job, it's because I need money now. Well, back up. First, I need to finish my book. Then once the book is done, I need to send it to a printer and have it printed and bound. I heard from virtually everyone I talked to that the interview process can be protracted and would test even my patience, and that being the case, I still need to pay my bills. And as it is now, I've lost about a week's worth of income and I'm not sure when my next check will be here. Fortunately, my bills are paid up for the month and I have food and beer left in the fridge, but still.
I ended my Day 1 post with "I can't wait." I'm going to amend that and say I can't stand waiting like this. I need something to happen now.
:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 7:53 PM [+] ::
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:: Sunday, November 04, 2007 ::
I've been playing tennis only once a week lately because of my work schedule. Like many things that require practice and repetition, my tennis game has suffered because of my lack of playtime. After this morning's session, one of pros who coached me before, asked me how I did. I responded with a scowl and disgusted groan. (Not unlike thw last few weeks.) "That's alright," he responded. "You know what I like about you, though? You keep showing up and trying."
His actual tennis skills aren't great but his understanding of fundamentals and strategy are off the charts. He is always upbeat, regardless of how well I did - or didn't - play. He could always watch me play and point out stuff I need to improve, yet made sure to praise the positive. Even if I got beat by some hack and left with a foul mood, he was unrelentingly positive.
I think my tennis game in many ways similar my dating life. I have the qualities that you might think women would find desirable, yet I'm not as good as I should be. Follow along for a minute if you will:
In my tennis game, many of the pros have told me that I have excellent ground strokes and fundamentals. For my dating life, I have that requisite "good personality" that women supposedly like. The sense of humor, the loyalty, the ability to hold a conversation, and the self-sustaining (non-clingy) personality that most would consider and asset.
On the court, I have a decent ability to analyze my opponent's strengths and weaknesses and develop a strategy on how to beat them. Likewise, I seem to have knowledge on how to carry myself as a somewhat confident male that can converse with a woman, get past her shield, and maybe get a phone number or two.
If there's a glaring weakness in my tennis game, it's my serve and game time execution. My serve is inconsistent at best. My mechanics are awful. Even when I'm able to get a first serve in it's not a great serve and a competent opponent can pounce on it and immediately put me on defense. If you ever saw Roger Federer, Pete Sampras, or Stephan Edberg play, you'd probably know just powerful an effective first serve is. With my strategy, I can set up my opponent but I fail in execution because my passing shot ends up going wide. The frustrating part of this is that I've lost games against opponents where I should have easily won. I play at an "advanced" level and I've lost 6-2 against several "intermediate" players. I'm not being self-aggrandizing, since after some of these losses the coaches would read my face and ask me "how'd you lose against him?"
Why? I've been playing tennis for so many years, I've seen so many matches on TV, that I should be able to rely on knowledge and instinct. But it's one thing to carry head knowledge and another thing to confidently execute that strategy into an actual match. I do fine at practice but once they let us play live points, I find that I either hold back, or I go for too much. Opponents whose skills are far inferior to mine have beaten me.
Like in real life, my approach is weak. In tennis, the serve is considered an offensive weapon. And at my peak, years and years ago, it was average at best. And now? I have nothing. I can't remember the last time I tried to start a conversation with a woman. Even the few times a woman was brave enough initiate a conversation with me, I couldn't follow up with anything of substance. Even if I got a phone number (which means nothing, absolutely nothing), I couldn't follow up. I couldn't execute my strategy because... well... I had little faith in my fundamentals.
And in translates as such into my love life. The fundamentals and game plan are sound. The approach and execution totally SUCK because I, in a word, choke.
I've seen men holding hands with beautiful women, despite the fact that they might have bigger guts that I do, less hair than I do, or less personality than I do. I used to rationalize it by thinking "they must be rich (or they're a tripod)." But regardless of the reason, the one thing these other guys have in common is that their confidence belies whatever shortcoming some third-party observer might have.
The similarities are eerie: when I'm playing well, I seem to attract some female attention (not that I'm able to do anything with it). When I'm not, I couldn't get a woman to look at me if I set myself on fire.
But the key difference between tennis and dating: with my tennis game, I "keep showing up and trying." The tennis clinics have regulars and many of those regular have either beaten me or heard me get beaten (I may or may not unleash a yell of frustration at times) so it's not like I'm sparing myself from embarrassment. The last six sessions have been highly frustrating to the point where I half-heartedly entertain the thought of giving up tennis. Yet I "keep showing up and trying."
Dating is the same way. I'm going to get rejected more often than not. That's the simple reality. But there might be just as good a chance someone will find me attractive and desirable. But how will I know if I don't "show up and try?" If my approach sucks, don't I owe it to myself to at least keep, for lack of a better word, practicing this? It's one thing to know what my shortcomings are, but what kind of person am I if I do nothing to remedy those flaws? Even if the best thing I can say about myself right now is that "I've never killed anybody," I deserve better than what I've had so far, right? I owe it to myself to not just seek better, but to be a better person for those I seek, right?
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Miami has hosted "Art Basel" this past week, which is essentially a city-wide collective of art galleries displaying modern art. Art Basel bills itself as "the most important art show in the United States, a cultural and social highlight for the Americas." Last month, I waited on a curator who installed an exhibit at a posh hotel for a world-renowned photographer. Her past work is with some famous artists, enough that that even if you never heard of her name, you might have heard of the artist.
The first time I waited on her, I simply remember her being friendly, engaging, and having a nice smile. I normally have trouble remembering customers unless they've been by at least three times, but the second time she came in, I remembered who she was, why she was here (she lives in New York City), and even what she ordered. It was slow enough that I was able to talk to her and flirt a little. She gave me her business card. When she left that night, she left me a nice tip and a kiss on the cheek.
Fast forward to this past week: She's back in town, working her ass off trying to accumulate clients and sell artwork. When she dropped by, she gave me a big hug. We weren't able to hang out since she was working the whole week but she always stopped by on nights I worked and tried to sit in my section. Nothing developed but I enjoyed our conversations nonetheless.
I wasn't expecting much out of this and I'm still not sure if there was any attraction from her but at least I made a new friend. But this experience made me realize one of the things that was holding me back:
There are several posts about how I believe being a waiter is a great way to make living, despite what anyone else may think. But perhaps due to insecurities and other factors I've deviated from that and let it affect other facets of my life.
When sitting at Starbucks or Taste Bakery with my laptop, I'd often see other women there, sometimes with friends, sometimes alone with their own laptops. I’m usually engrossed in whatever I'm working on, but occasionally I would make eye contact with these women. Some would throw smiles my way, and yet I'd never act on them. Why? They would be dressed very professionally, with pantsuits and ponytails. Or they might be University of Miami students studying either law or medicine (that particular Starbucks seems to draw that crowd). Either way, I'd let that intimidate me and I'd be afraid to say anything.
"She's a businesswoman/law student/med student/smart. She's not going to hook with some loser waiter" is what would go through my mind. I disqualified myself without ever giving myself a chance.
But it shouldn't matter what I do, right? I'm able to sustain a very good living with my job and I have other qualities and interests that should override any occupational concerns. Right? But that held me back.
Despite that I flirted and conversed with the curator enough that she kept in contact with me, gave me a kiss, and stopped in to see me when I worked. I was able to talk to her and flirt with her enough to keep her interest because she knows what I do and she talked to me anyway.
Isn't there something wrong with that line of thinking?
If I possessed true confidence, I should be able to say "she talked to me because I'm charming, fun to talk to, and I have a good sense of humor, and smart women respond favorably to that." Not "I'm a waiter and she liked me anyway."
What's holding me back? What am I afraid of? If I was working my "real job" in advertising, all that would change is my job title, since my pay would probably be about what I make now, so money isn't as issue. (Or it shouldn't be.) Is it the stigma of being a waiter? It shouldn't be. The friend I wrote about that offered me a management job; he recently got married to his beautiful, blonde, sweet wife, despite the fact that she's an office manager (or something, I'm not sure exactly) and they met while he was a bartender at some smelly little dive bar. It shouldn’t matter.
Yet, in my mind it does and my solutions are clear: either find my "real job" so I have one less psychological barrier, or work at simply believing in myself. If I can believe in my fundamentals and my knowledge of strategy, my serve would improve and my execution would certainly get better.
Except, like tennis (and so many other things), improvement takes time. It takes practice and it requires enduring setbacks and frustration. Even in tennis I endure considerable frustration, yet I "keep showing up." There was a point in the past where I was actually a pretty good tennis player and I "keep showing up" because I believe I can return to that level.
I've dated a few women, but I was never "good with women." Looking back, I sold myself short. And I probably thought I couldn't do any better. I never really put it all together enough to date a genuinely good woman. Some of the women I dated were garbage. Every woman I dated, I remember a subconscious thought telling me "you could do better. You deserve better." I would dsimiss it, believing it to be a case of the jitters, ignoring the obvious red flags.
With my dating life in the here and now, I need to just "show up" more, results be damned. I somehow lucked into some past relationships. I can't rely on luck. Luck might win a few points here and there but it won't win you a match. I need to "show up" and let the woman decide whether or not she wants me. I shouldn't make that decision for her. And I need to find a way to overcome my demons and find the fortitude to do that. How exactly? I'm still working on that.
As for the curator? This was a business trip for her: she was attending galleries, seeing clients, selling art, and installing artwork so there wasn't any time for us to hang out. I wasn't expecting much anyway but she tried to visit me at work when she had some down time so I take that as a good sign. She'll be flying back to New York tomorrow but there were a few positives I could take way from this. The really sad thing is that I'm 33. I should have learned this shit in my 20s.
But that's a whole other blog.
:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 1:36 AM [+] ::
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:: Friday, July 27, 2007 ::
I've gotten to know him pretty well over the last few months, partly because he's the only busboy we have that speaks English well and actually busses tables. But every time I talk to him, I notice his remarkable maturity (for his age anyway; he's miffed that his wife won't let him buy a motorcycle), and judging from the doting way he talks about his wife and his family, he's going to be alright.
Still, he's 22. I'm eleven years older than he is and I'm not even ready to get married, much less have kids (I never want kids but that's beside the point.), but then he's light years ahead of where I was in terms of maturity, his stage in life, etc, etc compared to when I was 22. I told him this when he asked if I’m looking to start a family soon but his simple reply was "yeah but it's not like that in my country."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, man. In America everyone waits to get married and have a family because they wanna make money or whatever. I love my wife and she loves me, man. That's all that matters."
"I guess." My inner cynic thinks it's a bit simplistic and idealistic, but it's working for him and I'm not going to rain on his parade.
"And I'm not rich or anything yet but my other job pays enough to take care of my family. I just work here to save a little extra. But I don't worry about money, man. Just 'cuz I don't buy my little girl Gucci shit don't mean I'm not going to take care of her."
He's right. Granted, he's luckier than most of us in terms of finding his ideal woman, but still. We do wait longer for many reasons; financial stability, sow your wild oats, see the world, gain material wealth, whatever. But in his native country (Honduras), life is apparently, simpler. It could be cultural differences. Or maybe it's the comparable lack to earning potential that forces love of family as the core factor. I'm speaking from ignorance; I've never been there.
And like so many things these days, it makes me question mysself, being as it I tend to think too much. It usually turns back into brutally introspective self-analysis and dwelling on - perhaps self-perceived - deficiencies.
Sure, I was immature at age 22 old but what about now? Don't I eventually want to meet a nice girl? What's keeping me? Why am I waiting? Why am I even comparing myself to a 22 year old?
Am I not ready? Possibly.
Why not? It's a lame excuse to cover myself.
And why would do that? I don't wanna talk about it.
Have I not met the right person? Obviously not. But it goes a lot deeper that.
What do you mean? If this magical "right person" dropped into my lap, would I even know what to do?
So are you even trying? Umm...
Do you have any valid reasons or are you just too chicken shit to even ask a girl out? Uhh... can I get back to you?
I've met a few women and gotten a number here and there but nothing ever came of it. But really, what was the big fucking deal with getting a number anyway? It's nothing. Absolutely nothing if you can't develop anything from it. And I can't believe that my psyche is so out of whack right now that I would consider something relatively insignificant as getting a number a major hurdle. So what's the real issue?
I've always heard and read that women are experts and sensing a man's confidence and even though I have a pretty good "poker face" (or I thought I did, anyway) maybe I'm more transparent than I realized. Poker face is one thing but I'm not good at faking confidence and I've lived my whole life with a part of me that tells me, "you can't do this. You're not good enough. You think you're fooling anyone?" It was there during college, it was there when I tried to learn guitar, it was there before I moved to Miami, and it's there every time I try to summon the testicular fortitude to talk to some woman I just met. Whether she's sitting at my bar or she's standing next to me at the produce section, it’s there.
"Why are you talking to her? She's out of your league. Don't waste your time flirting with her, have you forgotten you're just a waiter?"
I'm usually able to overcome these thoughts. I'm a decent guitar player, I did well in college and art school, and I'm doing well in Miami otherwise.
So why do I feel this way? Hours of reading books, plenty of time think, and some brutal self-analysis later I think I have a pretty good idea. (Details of which I won't get into now. Maybe in a later post.) How the hell do I fix this though? Work through it myself like I usually try to do? See a therapist? Get advice from friends? And in terms of dating, do I forget trying to meet women with this crap going on in my head or can I work through it, fake it even? Is putting myself out there regardless part of working through it? And really, how do I project myself as a fine catch to some woman when I have trouble believing that myself?
No one I know would ever guess that I have these issues. And really, I'm fine otherwise. It just pisses me off that I'm letting it affect me to this degree and that at age 33, that I know less about dating and relationships than guys 10 years younger than me.
I don't how this went from a post about my buddy become a dad to a sudden outpouring of my neurosis. I thought about deleting this content and starting over but nah. Maybe I need to stop internalizing everything. Maybe I need to stop worrying about seeming weak and open up about some of this to friends. Maybe I need to stop questioning myself. Maybe I just need to get laid.
Whatever. Sometimes, I think too much.
:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 1:30 AM [+] ::
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:: Tuesday, June 19, 2007 ::
I don't know what's so fucked up in my brain that I can't even seem to get the number these days. Carly might have been showing signs of interest but I wussed out because her dad was there. Of course, I probably would have wussed out even if her dad wasn't there.
I haven't seen Carly since that last time so maybe that's an opportunity lost. Fine. There's this other girl whose name I don't know yet because, well, I haven't asked. (Believe it or not, I don't go to these clinics to meet women. I actually take my tennis workouts seriously and being rather competitive, I usually don't get distracted just because some girl has nice legs. Usually.) We're at different skill levels so we usually get split up and there's not much interaction between to two of us. We played once but that was it, at the time I had too much crap on my mind (read: wallowing in my self-loathing) to really notice anything about her.
Usually, I show up, pay, play tennis, and leave. Few, if any hellos and byes. I'm friendly with everyone but I don't mingle too much since for me, it's exercise, not a social outlet. But she started up with the "hi" and "good night" the following weeks. Last night, I tried making some lame small talk with her, which for whatever reason (read: my innate lameness) went nowhere.
I don't know. There might have been something there. Or maybe I'm so hard up that I'm imagining it. There's only one way I could have found out. And naturally, I missed my moment, since she left before I did since my match went a little longer than her clinic. (And I didn't even win the Goddamn set so you can imagine my mood while walking home that night.)
Think that's lame, I have another one. I was at Publix shopping for groceries on a Friday night. I grab my cart, and while walking past the cheese section, I notice a cute blonde in a brown tank top chatting away on her cell phone. I don’t really pay attention to whatever inane conversation she might have been having since I find most public cell conversations annoying anyway.
Still, we crisscrossed a couple of times as we made out way down the grocery store and I to her credit, she wasn't yapping on her cell any more. I was almost done, and while browsing one of the aisles, I notice the blonde has pulled up in the same aisle. I'm a little confused about what to look for so I figure "what the hell" and ask for her advice. (It wasn't a lame attempt at a pickup. I really did need some help on what to get. As for what it was, it's rather embarrassing so I'd rather not mention it.) She's helpful, quite friendly, and has a very nice smile. We banter very briefly before she moves to the next aisle.
Naturally, the way things have been going, it didn't occur to me until right then that maybe, just maybe, she might have been sending me some signs. I should have asked. She could have said "no" but big deal, at least I tried right? I choked. Just before I head to check out, she walks by, looks at me, smiles and says "bye!" Strike three. Hanging curveball outside and belt high and I don't even take the bat off my shoulders.
I need to get my head on straight. Maybe I'm thinking too much. Or maybe I'm not thinking enough. I don't know. I just don't know.
:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 11:54 PM [+] ::
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I haven't written about my dating life since the breakup since there hasn't been much going on. I've met a few women here and there but nothing ever developed. I've been in a funk and it feels like at times that I don't have a clue how to break out of it. I don't miss the ex, I don't want her back, and looking back, I feel happier, not just being single, but the hindsight realization that she just wasn't good for me.
But the main point is that as much as I hate admitting this to myself, my self-confidence, when it comes to women and dating, took a major hit afterwards. Why? If your ex decides that you're such a liability that she'd rather shack up with a borderline alcoholic, melodramatic, pothead one week after she leaves, that can sting.
(I know I once wrote that I try not to disparage people on my blog because it's a chicken shit thing to do, and that's what I'm trying to avoid doing here. And not doing a very good job at it. She's not a horrible person and she had her reasons - however bullshit I think they may have been; I'm just trying to paint things from my perspective. But if it comes off that way, well, whatever.)
Since then I've been reluctant to put myself back out there. One reason I already stated, my confidence has taken a hit. If I a woman shows what could be a sign of interest (it would have to be fairly obvious for me to pick up on it) I'm afraid to act on it. The other reason is that I feel like I've completely forgotten how to talk to women. I'm either too reserved or I come off as too eager. I was never that great with women to begin with but this slump I'm in just feels worse.
And different. Before, it was a smiple case of post-breakup blues. This time? I seem to be experiencing some sort of deeper, personal crisis. And everything revolves around my lack of competence as man, being a man, around women.
For this, I have no one to blame but myself. Like always, I have this need to be strong and tell everyone "I'm fine." Or, "don't worry about me." I may even convinced myself that was the case. I haven't gone on any drunken benders, done hard drugs, or anything like that. But I started going out all the time and then reverted to not going out at all. I make excuses about my state, including the ever popular "I'm better/happier as a single guy anyway." Or if asked when I'm going to put myself out there, I fall back on "I need to focus on other things, like getting my advertising career on track." (True on some level, but come on. It's not a huge hurdle.)
Well, I'm still a single waiter, and all I have is excuses. If you lack a healthy self-esteem while living in South Beach, you might delude yourself into thinking that you're not rich/tall/toned/muscular enough, and I've let myself fall into that trap. These things, don't - shouldn't - matter. Not to her. And if it does, I'm better off without her anyway, right? And it shouldn't matter to me either, but I'm letting these myths affect me to where it's becoming noticeable. Not that anyone but my closest friends could tell by looking at me. (Again, I'm good at hiding my negativity. Partly because I'm intensely private, and partly because I don't like being a downer among other people. I've never liked people of the "if I'm not happy, no one else better be" mentality and I don't want to be one of those.)
What kills me is that I still know - somewhere in the back of my mind - that I have many virtues that women would consider desirable. But what most women want, need even, is a man who is confident. Someone who knows that he's a good catch and can convey this to those he meeets. Women are supposed to be far better at judging the confidence level of the opposite sex, and a woman who just met this type of guy would be able to tell that he's a great, fun guy and his looks or bankroll would be irrelevant. And as it is now, I'm not that guy. And to be completely honest, I haven't been that guy in a long time. I'm not sure why then, and I'm not sure why now. I could easily blame the ex and the breakup and it might fly a month after but seven months later? The only source of blame is whatever is going on inside my head.
When it comes to women, I have a self-esteem problem. There, I said it. But now what? How do I fix this? Let's get a little deeper; how did I get here? How did I let myself get to this point? What's the source of this self-doubt?
How is it that I, the guy who moved his life seamlessly and without apprehension, from one coast to another, can't summon the testicular fortitude to start a conversation with that cute brunette sitting at the table next to me that keeps looking over at my direction?
How is it that I can pride myself for my dry, witty, humor but can't think of anything funny to say when an attractive Latin girl at the grocery store asks my opinion on which steaks are the best, while suggesting that she really, really likes meat?
I have the friendship and loyalty of a few of the best people you’ll ever meet because they, and I, know that my friendship means something. And yet when a hot little redhead smiles at me, my first thought is "what could she possibly want with a guy like me?"
These are issues I need to figure out. And I don't have a God damn clue where to start.
:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 2:39 AM [+] ::
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