Two dates

Two dates this week. It wasn't how I intended, but two dates. 

I started texting with two men last Saturday. This was an accident - when I gave them each my number I didn't think they would both message at once.

Candidate #1 - E - is a scientist, currently working a technical job. Texting, we had a lot in common. Nerdy, direct, and logical. "Is it an issue that I'm not vegetarian?" He asked me. "No. I think vegetarians are the worst. Honestly." I told him.

Candidate #2 - N - is a vegetarian, does yoga, and works at a start-up. He's goofy, sent me a selfie of him making a funny face. He may be an aspirational match - the more fun, more mindful side of my personality that I wish I could draw out. I can see potential chemistry.

I met E for tea on Thursday night. In the same vein as our text conversation I related easily to most of what he said. And yet, somehow I walked away unimpressed. "I don't know," I told my mom, "he just wasn't... exciting to me."

N said he was busy in the coming week, but we had a quick phone call. It ended in a rush. "I just got my schedule and I have a bit of free time this week," I told him, hopefully. But he responded, "I'm really busy with this project, I'll let you know. Got to go, bye!" I didn't hear from him for the rest of the week.


So I found myself getting a beer with E in the time that might otherwise have been for N. "Is it possible that we are too similar?" I asked him. "I'm not comfortable being the more socially active partner. Wouldn't we each be better off with more of an opposite?" "Complements attract," he told me. Yes, that's what I'm trying to say, I thought. We are identical, we wouldn't push each other anywhere.

I don't think it's helpful to enumerate our incompatibilities here. But suffice to say I've decided.



On Sunday I began the fatalistic thinking that often accompanies these adventures. "Well, I have two men available. One is not texting me, so I guess I have one option in the world. Maybe I'll be alone forever." I know this is not my reality, and yet - sometimes - those thoughts win the day.

A friend tries to give me a pep talk. "You're just too good for all of these guys, Janice. You have a good job, you own a house, you're gorgeous."

"Oh stop," I tell her, blushing. But in my head I need it; I need to believe that my flaw is overqualification. Anything else might be devastating.

A guest on one of my favorite podcasts explained to the host why he is single in his forties. "In my twenties, I focused too much on my career. I woke up one day and it still hadn't happened." And then he counseled her, "Treat your dating life as seriously as you do your career. As much energy as you put into your passion, put that into finding a partner."

So maybe that's my next step. I spent a few hours last night applying for jobs. I can't maintain this schedule and keep squeezing my dates into the slivers of time I have left. New job → better time management → success. Right?




Just as I was boarding a plane to begin another week, I got this mildly hopeful message:

Hope is not lost.




Dating soundtrack this week is The Lumineers, Gun Song:
I don't have a sweetheart yet
But if I did I'd break my neck
To please her, make her want to stay, in my arms she'd rest