Bro'ed In is the New Friend Zone

I got bro'ed in again.

I guess another term for it is "friend zoned', though I've noticed most women tend to hate that term and say it doesn't exist.  If it doesn’t exist then why do I feel like I was just friend zoned?

I don’t mean I just met someone and since I'm nice to them I expect sex/ dating to be the end result. I mean, I literally met him on a dating site, we've been out together a few times. He even built me a picnic table. And yet we're only 'friends'. I got friend zoned on a dating site.

He told me about a crush he has on a bartender at a pub we went to. Before we went in. On the way to bar he told me. And she was working. He flirted. I sat there. I felt horrible. I should have known better. I should have been prepared.

To be fair, before we met we both talked about our apprehension about online dating, and agreed to a non-date date. We went for a walk around the river. We walked for several hours, and around 7.5 km. Then we sat on the back on his truck and talked for another hour or so until it was quite late. We agreed to meet again. We had so much to talk about! So much in common, experience-wise even though we came from pretty different backgrounds. It was nice. It wasn’t stilted. He was cute. He was kind. He didn’t end things early. I let myself hope.

On this first "non-date" (that should have been a warning sign), I told him I wanted to get a picnic table for my yard. He offered to build it! So the second date/ non-date we went to a hardware store (which we both love). Then I offered to buy him lunch for helping me, so we went to a Mexican restaurant, and somehow even came across a mini-fair and he nailed the bell on the hammer game! I cheered for him and it felt surreal that we sort of had three-mini dates on the one! Well… non-date.

The third time, I got up early (for me) on a Saturday, and we hauled the wood I had spent the week staining to his place where he has a workshop. We spent the day in his workshop building and measuring (me mostly staying out of the way), listening to his music, and talking. It felt nice. Comfortable. We broke for lunch when we had to grab a bit more wood (I changed my mind on the bench width and he graciously accommodated). His mom was apparently a bit peeved he was working on a project for me instead of her deck. I could tell it bothered him that his family demands so much of him. I felt regretful I was taking up his time.

"Don't be. I do things for people I like! You're practically family now and I love my family!" he reassured me. I felt my heart lift. I ignored the "love" part because I was sure I had misunderstood.  Maybe he just meant he feels obligated to do things for his family and he puts up with it out of love, so helping me is not a big deal. But still it made me feel closer to him. A guy was happy to help me out. I'm not used to kindness.

It kind of hurt to write that down. To say it out loud. But it's true. I'm not the kind of girl guys go out of their way to help. I remember every instance a guy has bought me a drink in a bar because it’s been twice in my life and one of those was a friend’s boyfriend getting me a pity drink and being utterly surprised when I tried to pay him back. The second time I was so dumbfounded I bought the guy a drink back and he sort of went “huh”, and never did it again.

We finished the table and benches and hauled them back to my place. We were joking, and proud of doing such a big project in one day. Then we agreed to meet up with my roommate to go for dinner and some celebratory beer! I asked him to pick the place. I felt good. It all felt really good. We worked well together. Maybe next time would be a real date.

We joked on our way. I asked what was good on the menu.

He recounted his favourite things, and that he goes there regularly. And that it doesn't hurt they hired a new waitress because she was hot, and then he began to recount how he's tried to look good for her because he wanted to date her.

It felt like my heart dropped out for a moment.

He went on about a little story about how he had tried to impress her. I found myself kind of hollow laughing back. "Ha ha, yeah." I echoed, as my body numbed.

I was bro'ed in again. Already. Perhaps from the beginning.

I had told him when we first started talking that I realized I wasn't the ideal. I thought him a kindred spirit because his profile had said much the same. But it was his picture of him smiling up at the sun that had made me message. I had been about to delete my profile when he responded. We had good talks. Long talks. We would thoroughly go over our day, and appreciated how each added to the conversation.

He noted he wanted to take things slow. I agreed. I was not good at dating, and liked the idea of seeing if we could be friends first.

I can't even remember the first time I was bro'ed in. It's just something that seems to happen.  Guys don't see me as dating material. I'm always too loud. Or too intense. I've heard a lot that I'm intimidating. I've attempted to speak softer. Watch what I say. Be more demure. Be interested in him. Then I've been fed up with that, and gone back to being myself.  It still happens the same. "So there’s this chick-". They'll talk about a hot girl they saw. Or they'll tell me about their dating and how hard it is to find someone.

I got out of his truck and we walked in. She was working. He smiled. He joked. He pulled his weight as a regular to get us a giant pitcher of beer from her. I sat. I ate. I paid.

It was the last thank you meal for him helping me out. I offered to take him for beers and food. You know. Like a good bro would.

It’s Been a While Since I’ve Tried…

My commitment issues are keeping me from a relationship. Not because I don’t want to commit, but because the guy I am seeing is worried I will lose interest and leave him. But isn’t that the reality of any relationship? I was happy to meet someone awesome and love that we are able to be so open with our thoughts. But I feel like my honestly is costing me.  Yes, I have commitment issues. But the fact that I was to try for the first time in… forever, should also have some weight.  We met online and both expected things just to be casual.  But then we got along so well we began making more time for each other, and now… I’m trying not to make him my be all and end all.  I’m trying to keep it light, because I am afraid of being hurt. I know he is as well, but keeping it open and non-serious makes me feel we’re not giving it a real chance. Yes we said one thing going in, but if I'm feeling more, I want to try.  I would like for us to agree to each other.  We tried for a few days but then he said he didn’t know if he could commit to someone who has such deeply embedded issues, and I understood.  But now I feel like I’m settling for a half relationship, and I’m ready for a full one. 

Perhaps he’s not the one after all.  Perhaps he’s right about me.

In the spirit of outright honesty, we met on a hookup site.  I messaged him, and after a few messages, we met.  I’m a large girl so I was worried he wouldn’t like me. He would be repulsed or something (I do not have a good body image), but he liked it.  True, he did put seeking a BBW, and I owned that when I responded, but you never know.  I’m not a lot of people’s cup of tea.  But he liked pretty much everything about me. I owned up to why I was seeking casual: I’ve got commitment issues but wanted to date.  He said he understood.  He’s got a daughter who stays with him weekends, and has a very busy job and felt it would be unfair to try and have a regular relationship.

It got pretty serious pretty fast (wow, someone likes me!), and now that we’ve pumped the breaks, I’m finding I would be happy with just him.  Am I just glomming on because he's the first guy in so long to show interest? There’s a different guy with whom I spend time with on and off and when I hung out with him the other weekend I did feel I was being unfaithful to the new guy, even though he had once again made it clear we weren’t a couple.  He still has an ad up online, so I look at it from time to time to remind myself he’s not completely committed, so I shouldn’t fall for him.  I have an online profile that I reactivated, and met a guy for drinks last night.  We didn’t click in anyway, and it just made me miss my guy so much.  So I reminded myself by looking at his ad. He wants something else.

I am not the one after all.  I was right about me.

Performing

I recently did an online personality test based on the writings of Carl Jung, David Keirsey and Isabel Briggs-Myers.  In University I had done a similar one (the MBTI), and I had come up as the only INTJ in a class of a hundred or so people.  It’s apparently a rare personality type (less than 2% of the population), and rarer still for women (0.8%).

My result: http://www.16personalities.com/intj-personality

My intent was to post this on my social network profile, but before doing so I read over the profile, considering it objectively in relation to what I knew about myself.  I had the same result as nearly ten years ago, so what of me has actually changed?  What hadn’t? What would I disagree with in the analysis? 

One part stuck out for me regarding an INTJ’s relationship with the spotlight.  I occasionally work as an emcee for a local dance company.  It’s a fun job most of the time.  I enjoy planning shows, coming up with intros and extros, meeting new talented people, the costuming, and being part of a production.  I get to engage with people, but from a distance, and essentially get to run things.   However when reading the comment about the spotlight, I felt an incongruence.

It has actually taken me quite a while to be comfortable with being in the spotlight.  I fell into emceeing because I was loud.  Seriously, I led an orientation because I had the loudest voice and everyone could hear me, and after that I used public speaking as a way to overcome social anxiety – sort of a trial by fire.  It kind of developed from there as previously I had preferred up to then to remain free to move about, not be featured (this is true for life and stage).  And honestly, when we began putting on shows, my desire to emcee stemmed from not having the confidence and desire to be a featured performer.  I figured I just talked until the real talent came on stage.  I still really feel that way.  When it came back to me that I was the main feature, linking the show together, I was surprised and rather terrified, and considered never performing again.  But then, one of the reasons I’ve done theatre my whole life was to get over those anxieties.  They do still visit me, though. 

Looking back at what I know of myself, I am afraid of being the centre of attention because as much as I (or anyone else) yearns for it, I do not feel I deserve it.  Call it imposter syndrome?  When I was told I *was* the show, it shocked and terrified me to my core. 

“But what if I let everyone down?”, was my very first thought. 

Mind, I had already done a few shows; but I honestly hadn’t considered I was any sort of feature other than distracting the audience.  It was a bit to wrap my head around.  It still is.  I say this because I have had so much going on in my life, I stepped down from the main emcee role about a year ago.  Since then, I’ve been involved, but finally emceed my first full show again this past weekend.  It was fun, but I notice all my flaws and flubs, and find it hard to believe when after a show audience members or fellow performers compliment me, tell my how funny I was, and what a great job I’ve done. 

I feel like I can’t believe them.  They’re just saying that because they recognized me.  That’s nice of them to make me feel included.  And yet, I’m having a harder time brushing those compliments aside since this time I had many approach me and say how much they’ve missed me as emcee.  A spark of me twinged, wanting so much to revel in the compliment, but I have a tendency to quash such feelings.  It’s not a good practice, and I am trying to work on it.

Actually, I’ve come a long way.  I used to hide back stage after the shows and not come down until everyone was gone.  I’d not acknowledge when I received a compliment, or even worse, I’d swear back (issues, ammaright?).  It felt painful to be complimented, but when you have self-esteem issues like I do, it’s a common feeling.  I think one of the reasons I keep doing the shows is to get outside my comfort zone.  It pushes me, and I desperately need that.  Performing still terrifies me, but I do it to help perfect the image I want to project; one of a confident, intelligent, funny woman, who is deserving of praise and love.

And yet, I still feel like an imposter.  I often hear “fake it ‘til you make it”, and similar words of wisdom spouted.  I thought after a while I would be more confident in what I’m doing, but I still have that nagging feeling.  Feeling that I’ve failed at a job severely highlights that disparity to me, which is probably why I’m still doing the shows.  I want to feel successful somewhere. 

Now I make myself mingle after a show.  I act confident (wine helps), and I smile and say “thank you” when I get a compliment.  I’m still not letting it really sink in, though.  I’m still blocking it from my heart.  In a way, I’m still putting on a show.

Revelations (part 1)

Wow. Moment of self-realization today at work.  I’ve been going back correcting several months of improperly entered data at the job I am currently at.  I’m through a temp agency, and was placed here with two other women.  I’m the only left, as they keep extending my placement.  That’s good and I should feel good, but I notice I feel bad that I am “wasting” so much time correcting things that should have been entered correctly the first time.  And the more I go back, or feel I should double-check something, the more errors I find.  It has been weighing on me.

I have been finding it tough telling my supervisors this, though they have been supportive and impressed with my attention to detail.  I think it’s why I’ve been extended, and they’ve told me they wish they could make me fulltime.  I should feel good about that, but I’ve noticed I feel responsible for the errors.  I mean, there’s no way I could have made them (I had never come across this data before), but I feel nervous and scared when I find errors and report on them. 

It finally occurred to me today as I was telling my supervisor what I thought had happened.  I figured maybe 30% of the data had been missed (not entered at all, but filed), and that within the data program itself someone must have selected a large chunk of info and accidently changed it, screwing up another 20%.  She nodded, saying it was likely, and then kind of gave me a weird look. I realized I was kind of cowering like a small dog afraid of being kicked.  Then I realized after she left that that’s exactly what I have been feeling. 

I was so used to feeling worthless at my last job, I have forgotten how to interact with confidence. 

I know I’m good at what I do, or I wouldn’t be doing it, but when you constantly find problems and it puts off other work you were to do, you internalize it as failure.  Or I do at any rate.  At my last “proper” job, everything that went wrong was my fault.  I repeatedly heard that from a Board of Directors who couldn’t even be bothered to even read the first page of my reports which were bullet-pointed.  They were unaware of even the structure of the business, but everything I did was the worst.  I was doing badly, and I should feel badly.  And I did.

I know I stayed there about a year too long, but it’s tough to get over that sense of failure.  To try and reason with a belligerent brick wall.  I would spend countless hours worrying, and tying my self-worth to that job.  It was prestigious, but I was constantly looked down on by others in the field because I didn’t have the same degree.  It was an abusive relationship but I was sure I could make it work.  Leaving felt like failure and I had made that my life.  I sunk into a deep and crippling depression.

It’s taken me a lot to pull myself out of that, and get back into the work game.  Temping was a way for me to try out my skills again, and see if there was something I could learn to love again.  I rather like what I’m doing now.  Sure, I work for a giant conglomerate that placed me at another giant conglomerate, but I’m okay with being a cog in a wheel right now.  Here they listen, and appreciate when I explain what’s gone wrong, and how I can fix it.  I like the people, the work is challenging, and I’m good at it.  Now I just need to remember how to translate that into feeling good about me.

How Does One Get “Asked Out”?

It's been a while since I posted, so these are some posts that I just hadn't gotten around to posting. Woo. :)

Seriously.  Tell it to me like I’m a four-year-old.  If you can break it down onto post-it notes, I’d be much obliged.  Because man, am I doing something wrong.

I get I’m not the hottest.  I do.  Empirically, I’m average.  Add to that I happen to be overweight. Okay.  Smarts-wise, I’m a bit more prepared.  I can use the word irony correctly.  But there are a lot more unattractive people, and heavier people, and people who think Alanis really nailed that song who are in long-term relationships, and I am just sitting here, knowing I use way too many commas.

Nothing really hits it home quicker or more succinctly that I am not appealing to the opposite sex than hanging out with a good-looking friend of mine.  They get hit on ALL THE TIME.  And they handle it well, because they are used to it.  “You’re beautiful! Would you like to go out some time?”  Little clouds of men form around these women.  Suddenly I’m a rejected satellite to this gorgeous Hotness Planet I came with.  I get it.  They’re attractive.  Not only that, they’re intelligent, funny, caring people.  I know because I wouldn’t be friends with them if they weren’t.  So am I allowed to envy this? Resent it? I try not to.

It still hurts to be around.  I’ve mastered the art of, “No worries, I’ve got to go over here and stare at this odd brick pattern anyways.”

I’ve studied enough sociology and psychology to understand why people are drawn to certain traits (seriously, I’ve written papers on it), and get if you hit on attractive people you’re eventually going to find some that are smart and nice instead of evil and shallow.  Those are some goods odds.  People are nice to attractive people, so they’re used to it.  They’re often very kind back.  True story.

Not ‘hot’ people get the shaft.  People are not as willing to give the benefit of the doubt that spending their time with you is worth the effort of finding a match.  There are other hot people to meet and maybe make that connection with.  It sucks. I know, I know… Heeeey, green grass…

I am quite lucky to have some very attractive friends.  I often use the line that attractive people attract attractive people (ha ha), and it can be a bit of a bubble.  I seem to have subverted it by working in bars for years (hired for skill, not looks), and being witty enough to make it past my below average veneer.  As a result, I find myself from time to time wondering what I am doing faking it around these people who may accept me for some reasons, but will never date me.

Am I shallow for wanting the hot people to want to date me? Yes.  I am shallow.  Deep down I am very shallow (ha ha).  I want to be attracted to whom I date, but I also find some people get less attractive when they have a bad personality.  I find they are more attractive when they are insightful, intelligent, and funny.  I’m often told this, too.  People seem to be more attracted to me the more they talk with me, and so on, but it never leads to dating.  It’s frustrating.

Simply put, I don’t get asked out.  I get invited to things, but it’s not the same.  And it often reminds me that I am not the same.  I can ignore it most of the time.  It only really stings when people literally stop us on the street to talk to my friend, or I get a, “Oh, you too” invite when sitting next to my friend.

I think I’m pretty quick witted (I am told this enough that I am inclined to believe it), funny to be around, am involved in things, and try to engage honestly with people.  I’m not the worst, just not the best.  Average is what it is, but there are many, many average people out there with successful dating lives.

I know I’m not the most confident, but I have really worked at breaking out of this the past year.  After a heavy funk and depression, I am focusing on being happier and more balanced.  I just keep coming back to this huge area of my life that no development or real progress has been made.  I’ve been trying to talk more, flirt more, and ask guys to do things.  This was like pulling teeth, but I’ve been working at it.  It just hasn’t been panning out.  Don’t get me wrong, I’ve selected carefully my ‘object’ of affection (of the moment), but the whole “if he is interested, he’ll ask you out” does hang over my head quite a bit.

I ran into the guy with whom I swapped numbers with the other day.  Maybe that’s why this came up again.  It was in a gas station.  One I pretty much never stop at, but did that day.  His smile was big and genuine, so I got a little thump in my chest, and kind of missed what I was saying in walking to the counter to pay.  Picturing music, and clever banter, and an invite for coffee?  Ha. 

At the till was another friend I had not seen in a very long time.  Cue catch up session with him all through my transaction, and walk back to my car.  I think phone number guy gave a quick wave as we left, but yeah.  Friendship was a blocker that day.  Don’t get me wrong, I in no way begrudge my long-time friend I had run into, it’s just one of those “Of course it would happen this way. You’re you, Friday.  Don’t forget.” kind of moments.

I hugged my long-time friend goodbye when we reached our cars, but I would be lying if I said I hadn’t felt a pang of regret and irritancy.  I wish I was a better person sometimes. 

Moving On, Moving Up

So... lately my life has been a HUGE explosion of crazy. In summary, I have decided to get over the last guy I was absolutely blind over. I sent him a text late one night seeing if he wanted to get an impromptu drink. It had been a while since I texted him, figuring he could use some time or whatever. He asked who was texting.

So after feeling like an idiot, I told him it was me, said “Forget about it.”, and deleted him from my phone, facebook, and email. Enough is enough. Bah.

Then, of course, is the self-pity parade I usually throw myself. But not this time. Instead I went, “Wait. Why?” Deep down, I knew he wasn’t right for me. I was mostly mad at the fact that I felt I had no romantic options whatsoever, so I projected hard onto this guy, who didn’t want me. Or if he did, he didn’t want me enough.

Some mutual friends (including his best friend) had told me "he’s shy, doesn’t know how to date, and he’s really into me" had me going for a while, but now that I am learning how to move forward, I expect that much from a guy in my life. No effort? Well, then I am now working at moving on. Oh, and then there are the oh-so-helpful friends who bluntly state it was “dead to begin with”, but even then I have to look at that optimistically. In the past, I would never have allowed anyone to know who I liked, never mind ask what they thought. And hearing their (albeit negative) opinion let’s me know I was on the wrong path. When I do date someone, it will because we feel right together, and we’ll know it.

After sitting down and thinking about it a while longer, I came to some solid footing. Even in my smitten haze, I knew there were things about him I had problems with. Things I made myself overlook, but now glared at me like reminders of just how much I will ignore to feel a connection with someone. For instance, he wasn’t that smart. Now usually that’s a HUGE turnoff for me. I had allowed getting to know him over time blind me to the fact that on average, he didn’t get the majority of my jokes or references. Ouch. Also, he talked rather slow. I think this links straight to not being so quick on the uptake. Perhaps now I am being too harsh? Well, friends had told me they didn’t feel he was the sharpest knife in the drawer, and I must admit, that pissed me off at the time so I had over-compensated it with “He’s shy”.

That’s another thing, though. He wasn’t outgoing at all. He was quite happy to sit home or at a friend’s playing video games day in and day out. I don’t mind that from time to time (in fact I find it romantic spending a night in), but he had no real social persona, nor inclination towards one that I ever saw. This was another blow since I am rather outgoing and am constantly busy. Add this to a complete lack of ambition, and I wonder how I managed to overlook something I find to be super important. Lately in my life I have begun to reaffirm my life goals, and take action. I went for the bigger and better job, and am making plans for my future. He once told me if he lost his job, he would “go on EI and wait for them to hire him back”. Solid plan there, mate. Add this to the new, ambitious and educated people I have been meeting lately now that I am back in the city, and Dreamboat’s ship begins to sink.

So I find myself in the familiar position of “Being Alone”, but now I am here without even the fantasy of a crush to look forward to. And in the light of setting goals, I think that should be on my list. Finding a Crush-Worthy Crush. It’s a start. :)

always something...

It’s always something, isn’t it? And usually, it’s me. After some intensive introspection I have uncovered a gem of self discovery. I am a dumbass. I mean, I’ve always had suspicions, but after taking a quantitative approach to my previous attempts at relationships I think I have hit the nail on the head.

Sticking with the scientific method I have discovered that the largest flaw lies with my inability to express my emotions. Don’t get me wrong. This lack of understanding of human emotional depth has actually helped me in the past, but it a huge hindrance when you are trying to emotionally connect with another human being. Big time.

Succinctly, I act like a jackass. I can’t talk, even though I am naturally verbose. I sweat, feel clammy, and can’t make eye contact, and this is just with the guys I see across the room in a bar. The worst part is my mind grinds to a brutal halt. I can’t think of anything interesting of funny to say if my romantic life depended on it. Which it does. Which is why it lays six feet deep, waiting for the piles of comfortable dirt to tuck it in so nicely.

I can understand if I was socially inept in other ways, but I really am not. At least, I don’t feel I am. But since this blog is about spastic me and the lack of relationship connectivity, maybe I should reign in those horses, hmm?

Perhaps I should go over some things about myself first.

Factoid #1 about me is I spent my life in a perpetual state of moving, and thus developed a disconcerting knack for meeting people and making friends. I say disconcerting since I also developed a knack for forgetting people, and to this day have a terrible memory for faces and names. My reality was I probably wouldn’t ever see you again in six months, so why bother? Harsh? More often than not, very true. My family (made up of my mother, my older sister and I) were basically nomads. I never stayed at a school longer that 2 years, and if I did, we lived in at least three places. When I went to University, the apartment I lived in for five years was literally the longest home I had ever had.

I feel this is where things really began for me. I developed some great skills, and met all kinds of people, but I never learned anything about maintaining those relationships. I didn’t have to. I was six. Or twelve. Or whatever. I did somewhat envy those around me who had friends their whole lives, and lived in the same house since they were born, but those were their lives, not mine. They seemed a bit weird, actually, and I instead went about my own way. Of course, when you’re a kid, you’re life seems perfectly normal. To you. I learned more about this later on.

Factoid #17 about me is I have absolutely no problem flirting with people I don’t care about. Is this effed up? Oh, sweet sausage in a cup, yes. I flirt like the Dickens. Men, women, a good looking chair. It’s all the same. I don’t care if the person is into me, so I go all out. I joke, I make people laugh, I sing, I dance. I have grabbed complete strangers and made them dance with me and do shots out of my ample chest. But the second I like you? You’re lucky to hear me speak.

What. The. Eff.

So once again. The problem - obvious in its simplicity… and yet, isn’t that the toughest thing of all?