4 AM seems like the opportune time to do some soul-searching.
I'd like to blame the result of this entry on alcohol.
Unfortunately, I'm not enough of a lightweight to legitmately blame 2 drinks consumed between 11 PM and 1 AM for this. Instead, I feel compelled to talk about myself and what makes me tick.
I am a commitment-phobic. I need a 12-step program to deal with this. I can pinpoint the reason for this, but I can't do a damn thing to fix it.
Last weekend, I went out to a bar with a group of friends. We arrived, got drinks, and settled around a group of benches on the rooftop deck to chat, dance (everyone but me), laugh, and have a good time. At one point, we decided to leave that bar for one across the street. However, as we got downstairs, we ran into more friends and decided to stay for a while--guilty conscience since the guys had just paid a $3 cover charge.
We decided to hang out inside the downstairs part of the bar. I was put in charge of obtaining a round of drinks for Susan, Summer, and myself.
Of course, as in any bar on a Saturday night, it was packed, and I couldn't get up there to get the bartender's attention. Figuring that my best bet was to hover behind two guys seated at the bar and wave when the bartender got close, I planted myself between them. Luckily, they were nice guys and scooched aside so that I could slip in between them to get drinks.
I passed off the drinks, then continued to stand there and chat with these two guys. We discovered that one had been in a leasing office at the same time as me earlier that day. They were nice. They were both attractive. The one I'd seen earlier that day was laying it on a bit too thick--plus he was mildly drunk, which is always reason to doubt intentions.
At any rate, his (sober, driving) friend and I hit it off. When a seat opened beside him, I took it. We chatted about school, work, life, family, drinking, and a host of other things for an hour and a half--rather significant when you consider that we were in the middle of a loud, crowded bar. Towards the end of the night, I realized that I needed to go locate my friends before I was stuck shacking up on Greenville for the evening. I bid the guy adieu (not really), and he asked for my number.
Against my better judgement, I gave it to him.
Fast forward to Thursday.
He called. I looked at my phone, didn't recognize the phone number, and let it go to voicemail. He left a voicemail, which I then listened to.
It's now early on Sunday morning, and I have yet to call him back.
Truth?
I'm not going to.
I'm so frightened of being in a relationship, being committed to someone, being vulnerable, that I will sit there and visualize all of the reasons why I shouldn't be in a relationship--and then I'll shoot it in the foot before there is even a remote possibility of it ever requiring a committment. This guy? In D-town for the summer. He'll be gone in two months. There's no chance of committment--he's just a nice, good-looking guy who would probably take me to a few dinners, make out with me if I wanted, and be a summer fling.
I can't even have that for fear of what it could become. I have a thousand excuses--I've done long distance, and I don't want to do it again. I'm only 23, and he's older. I just got out of a 3 year drain of a "relationship" in October. I'm too busy. I work weird hours. I just want time to go out with my friends, and I barely have time to do that as it is.
But what is my deal? Why do I let this affect me to the extent that it does? There's something wrong when I won't even go on a first date--I've already condemned the relationship to morphing into something serious, and I can't escape that.
Maybe this is the reason that I prefer to date guys that I know before I begin to date them--somehow, it's less pressure. When I'm spending time getting to know them, I'm doing it for the purpose of friendship--there's no reason to worry about whether I want to pursue anything serious with them.
In a perfect world, the voices in my head would shut up. I'd meet someone who makes me laugh--makes me smile until my cheeks hurt. Someone who knew how to make me stop taking myself so seriously. Someone who is content to spend a Saturday afternoon on the couch watching sports with me, or who is up for a good time with friends at a bar. Someone whose main motivation is spending time with me, and secondarily wants to get into my pants. Someone that feels the same way I do--we see each other when we can see each other, in whatever capacity we can--if that's a group thing, fine. If that's once a week, or once every other week, fine. No pressure.
We can lose ourselves
not find our way back home
til the whole world feels just like a Saturday night
Without a care in the world
Without a net underneath us
Float through the air
high as a kite.
posted by K @ 1:53 AM
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