I’m bad at dating.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m good at relationships… but the whole getting-to-know-each-other and the vague what-is-going-on-here that follows? Not my forte. I like absolutes, I like definites, I like black and white and not a hint of grey, and that just doesn’t happen with dating.
I end up overthinking and questioning and generally just being a neurotic mess, because I don’t do things half-assed. Either I like you, or I don’t. And if I like you, I’m all in.
Of course, this generally makes me come across as overzealous or neurotic, or, when I don’t like people, a cold hearted bitch. Moderation is not my strong point. It’s very obvious how I feel about people. However, I’m also shy and terrified of rejection. The end result is me wearing my heart on my sleeve, but not doing a damn thing about it until the other person makes a move.
So there’s this guy. He made the first move. And the second move. And the third. And now I have it bad for him with no clue as to if he’s on the same page. Did I mention he’s out of the country for a week? And that I’m in the midst of moving? My brain feels like it’s about to explode with frustration.
I’m pretty sure, if all my old journals weren’t already packed, that with a few minor changes, I could dredge up a hundred other times I have said this same schtick since I first started the ritual of courtship. Is it going to change? Probably not. Do I want it to? Not really. I’m a passionate person, and that means I can’t hide what I think and feel. One day, somebody is going to get that, and I won’t live in the land of maybes and what-ifs and does-he-like-mes.
Until then, though, I’m going to hide in my blanket fort and watch PowerPuff Girls while I wait for him to text.