What do I really want?

ForeverAloneIt’s my 200th post in this blog, and sorry to those who were expecting me to say something about what kind of woman I’m hoping to find, but real life has interfered once again and I’ve been considerably down this week, though naturally it’s at least partially girl troubles.  Don’t worry, I’ll still say something about it in future, but for now, I’m aware that I’m still a messed-up individual, and I need to sort out my own problems before I can even think of bringing a woman into my life, at least in any kind of long-term way.

Perversely, I’m envious of some of the people who post in Facebook groups about depression and anxiety — the ones who say it’s affecting their relationship with their spouse or significant other.  After all, my whole problem is the lack of a significant other, and therefore, unlike getting a job earlier this year, the only way to remove the source of my anxiety is to do something that I can’t, because of my anxiety!

Something I read tonight made me realise what it is I really want: remember “American girl“, who I met at yoga and who forgave me for asking her out?  Tonight I saw she’d posted something about dating a South African, which aside from anything else makes it clear she’s still seeing the guy she was seeing back then in 2013, and it occurred to me that, more than anything, I just want to be dating someone and for it to be normal — not someone who’s taken pity on me, not someone desperate for affection, and certainly not a mail-order bride — just a regular woman, who likes me the way I am…

Or, rather, the way I hope to become, because my past week was so dreadful thanks to my anxiety running at an all-time high.  I don’t know if it’s nutritional this time around, or partially caused by cold-like symptoms a couple of weeks after I had a proper cold (possibly hay fever or otherwise caused by the changing weather), but I do know that I’ve not been happy at work lately, and that things like annoying voices have been really getting to me.  It seems I’m prone to getting upset over minor things and withdrawing into myself, my only escape being to go and sit in the gents’ for a bit if it all gets too much (because there aren’t any quiet places I can go to do some work, like there were at Camden).

My colleagues don’t do anything wrong, and I feel bad for, er, feeling bad, and that’s why I’ve got to change — hence I’m looking into CBT, in an effort to stop my brain going into depressive spirals all the damn time.  This is so urgent that I’ve stopped reading Judge Dredd comics at night in order to read this book my mother lent me!  I need to change my thought patterns, and stop making negative assumptions based on limited data — and here’s a good place to start…

One reason I’ve been down lately is that there’s a mega-cute girl at work… no, come on, listen patiently, I’m going somewhere with this!  We’d been smiling at each other every time we happened to run into each other, on average once per day, and a couple of Wednesdays ago I had the chance to chat to her in the kitchen in the middle of our office floor.  However, she left a bit abruptly, and I didn’t see her around after that for ages; naturally I began to feel like she was avoiding me.  Indeed, one day I was chatting to someone in my pedometer group (don’t ask) next to the kitchen when the mega-cute girl and one of her colleagues came to the kitchen; she wasn’t looking at me, but her friend was, in what I thought was a wary kind of way…

This resonates with my first fumbling attempt to ask a girl out in 1996, when I was 18.  Yeah, late developer, whatever, I was in the upper 6th (Year 13 in modern parlance) and she was in the year below, and thus 16-17.  I’d clearly been scaring her with my nervous attempts to “arrange” to “talk” to her, and when I finally went for it, naturally she said “no”.  Okay, I tried and failed, but after that I became convinced that she was getting her friends to watch out for me so she could avoid me, and that the people in both our year groups were secretly sneering at me — not for failing, but for trying.  Hey, maybe they were astonished that I was heterosexual…

But who says any of that was true outside my own head?  The 1995-6 academic year, my last year at school before university, was a time in which I really tried to sort my head out, and probably just made things worse by over-analysing things and getting worked up about nothing.  Yeah, I was a bit of a pariah at that school, and it was a small community where everyone knows you even if you don’t know them, but I was probably wrong about that girl turning people against me, and I’m undoubtedly wrong about this girl being so wary of me (after one conversation!) that she goes to elaborate lengths to avoid any contact with me at all.  Why, I’m not sure she didn’t smile at me on Friday, when I was too wrapped up in emotion to interact with anyone — perhaps she’s just been too busy to come to the kitchen as often as before?

It’s not for the sake of a girl that I want to sort my head out, it’s for me, and the people I care about.  It’d be different if I was already in a relationship and she was being there for me, but right now I’m alone, romantically speaking, and I need to stay that way until my life is on track, so I’m not looking for a girl to “fix” me.

(Because that worked out so well in 2013, didn’t it?)

quagmire_womaniserInstead, as I said last time, I’m going to try and improve my skills at simply flirting with women and try to get into short-term passionate flings (the kind of relationships to which the word “sordid” is normally applied), instead of doing what I’ve been stuck doing for ages now: waiting for thirtysomethings to ask me out online and then be disappointed — because they wanted someone rich, successful and handsome, and I only fulfill one of those criteria.

And perhaps CBT will help me with that, by allowing me to change my thought patterns and stop me thinking/feeling that simply telling a woman she’s pretty is some kind of hateful sex crime.  Some women might actually like to be complimented, even by me, and maybe I can even pluck up the courage to say something really audacious, and risk getting slapped (but hopefully not arrested).  For example: if that girl I met at yoga last week is there again on Tuesday, I’ll try to ask if she’s still got her old cheerleader outfit — not because I want to see her wearing it, but because I want to see her take it off…

Hey, I’m a drunk, a pervert, a junkie and a womaniser, remember?


One thought on “What do I really want?

  1. Pingback: Making the same mistakes | Dave-ros Lives!

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