This weekend I had an opportunity to catch up with one of my favorite girlfriends. We spent three hours chatting, laughing and enjoying each other’s company while we sipped the best Sangria in Portland.
We shared fascinating accounts of dating multiple men. While she has been dating multiple men for a few months, this was only my first. While it was fascinating, interesting, exciting, fun and even funny at times, I learned something about myself.
Thankfully, I am not a serial dater. I really don’t have it in me.
This month I have been on what feels like a gazillion dates with a gazillion different men. Okay, not a gazillion, but as of the 23rd I had been on 15 and two-thirds dates. This included lunches, coffee, dinner, movies, improv, hiking and sex (with only one of the multiple men).
While I have saved a lot of money this month, by last Friday I was exhausted and totally not interested. That’s when I racked up the two-thirds of a date.
Out of the seven men I’ve seen this month, there are only three that I saw more than once. On Friday, one of the three wanted to go for a mid-morning walk and another wanted to take me to lunch.
As I sat in my office that morning I reflected on a couple of things.
First. I’m a nice person. I’m not trying to pat myself on the back, it’s just true. I am a nice person. You could ask anyone who knows me, (those who like me and even those who don’t) and I guarantee some form of the phrase “she’s a nice person” would come out of all of their mouths. I just am.
My form of being nice includes my absolute disdain for hurting feelings. When I was younger, I would do things I didn’t want to do just so I wouldn’t have to hurt people’s feelings. Even people I didn’t like. I quit that bullshit about ten years ago. It made for a happier existence, even helped me get a divorce. Turned out the little bit of discomfort I experienced, was worth my sanity.
Next, with respect to all of these dates, I simply wondered “to what end.”
I enjoy eating great food, having great conversation and laughing at little to no monetary cost of my own – but I do have lots of friends, a good job, and I am capable of providing for myself. I enjoy running, hiking, biking, and doing stuff with good company – but again, I have lots of friends, both male and female, who enjoy that stuff as well. I enjoy meeting new people – but meeting new men who are considering me under the term “relationship possibility” is not simply “meeting new people.” It’s a lot more work than that. And quite frankly I’ve learned that it doesn’t take me long to figure out whether a guy is relationship material for me.
Neither of my Friday dates were.
In my last post I thought I was turning into this woman who didn’t care, who only really cared about her own selfish needs and no one else’s. But that’s not the case.
Of the three men, the one I wasn’t seeing on Friday was the only one I wanted to see. He’s the one I’ve seen the most since August. He’s the one I kept (figuratively) chained to my bed for 22 hours. He’s the one whose feelings might be hurt if he knew I was dating two other guys regularly. That bothered me . . . probably because I’m a nice person.
So Friday I had two-thirds of a date. It was two separate thirds as I met each guy and told him that I had an “Ah-Ha” moment and realized I was not cut out for serial dating – that I was a one guy at a time kinda girl, and that they were not the one guy. Done. Over. Dating drama cut short.
My girlfriend said she may eventually come to the same place, but for right now she was all about the variety. I get it, but happily, I declare it’s just not me.
Saturday evening I got to go out with THE guy. Such a nice guy, with a great smile, a kind heart, beautiful blue eyes and an awesomely sarcastic sense of humor. Conversation was great, he made me laugh til my side hurt, took me to the movies and bought me dinner. He came home with me, snuggled with me, told me some intimate things about himself that made me like him even more, and I made him breakfast in the morning while he played with my dog.
We call each other “friends.” That’s it. But he told me he isn’t seeing anyone else. He’ll just wait, patiently, until I decide either I’m ready to be more than friends or something else. In my prior life I might have said I was ready now, just so I didn’t “hurt his feelings” or possibly blow it by making him wait too long – but I’m not that person anymore.
We only see each other every couple of weeks due to our schedules and commitments. I probably won’t see him again, however, for a month since I’m running a marathon on our next possible “date weekend.” I told him he could come over that Saturday night anyway and just leave when I leave for the run Sunday morning, but he doesn’t think that would be wise since I may not get as much sleep as one might need in order to successfully run 26.2 miles. He’s also a thoughtful guy.
All things considered, I live a good life.
I am happy and quite content.
In fourteen weeks I will find myself on a beach and my life will be perfect. . .