You know that Sex and the City episode where Carrie gets mugged and the guy steals her shoes? And then Miranda goes out with the painfully good looking cop who is so obviously into her, but she doesn’t buy it (how can a guy that cute be into Miranda?), so she gets wasted to make herself feel pretty and confident. Or something. The hot cop ends up thinking that she has a drinking problem, and she never hears from him again.
I’m like living in that episode… minus the part about getting drunk and feeling pretty.
Some of you know me fairly well. You know how I operate. I date guys who are “complicated;” guys who I’ll, “never understand;” guys who fancy themselves creative; guys who are poor; guys who get in my head and make me crazy; guys who live fairly sedentary lifestyles; guys who made a lot more sense (sense?) when I was 19, smoking a variety of substances, and… you know… not running marathons.
This is probably post-worthy itself, but running changed who I am. I mean, not like inherently – my charming and witty personality remains intact – but running changed the way I see myself; it changed my priorities; it changed the way I want to live my life. Every time I give the “running changed my life” speech, I caveat it with “this probably sounds lame, but…” Maybe it’s not though.
Anyway, I’m veering wildly off course. This post is not about running. This post is about boys.
I tend to hold on to the idea that I’m attracted to these shaggy, lazy dudes who are floating through life with no real direction, no real goals, no real desire to make things happen for them – despite the validity of their “creativity.” If you need more information about my dating habits, please see Homelessly in Love.
Sometimes I’m not sure what to attribute this to. Do I hold on to these types of boys because I still see myself as the person I was in college? Am I trying to save these men from certain mediocrity? Or, is it because I like to feel like I have an alpha role in the relationship? Putting it on paper seems far more narcissistic than just saying it in semi-jest, but I have always feely admitted that I like to be the “prettier” one in the relationship. That’s just a girl thing right? But, if I take a hard look at my dating record – I apparently also like to be the one with the “better” education, the “better” job, the “better” way of living my life. Another caveat here: I don’t actually see myself as “better” than anyone, I am speaking strictly in terms of the people one seeks out to date and how compatibility is determined (i.e. Do I want to be the sole breadwinner in a long-term relationship? If the answer is “No,” then I should probably date a guy who has a job). And, if this is the case, am I seeking out people who don’t have similar lifestyles, or goals, or values, or interests, just so I can look back and say, “Well, it never would have worked anyway,” when it blows up in my face?
Whoa. That way more “on the couch” than I meant it to be.
So what happens when you meet someone who is – by all accounts – worthwhile? Someone who is unlike anyone you’ve ever dated, anyone you really ever imagined, but seemingly fits all criteria you’ve listed in your head. A person who is truly building a life similar to the one you want live? And you just can’t wrap your head around the idea that a guy like that would be interested in you. What does one do when she's no longer "the pretty one?" Does she find out that she needs that feeling to be confident and, ultimately, to be attracted to someone? Or, does she realize how fucked up she is, settle down and stop wondering where things are headed, have a little fun, and give someone with potential a chance?
So maybe this is a little more in-depth than that SATC episode...