"Closure. That would make it so much easier. It's like, just tell me you're seeing someone else and I can say, 'Fair enough. We weren't exclusive. Have a great life and hey... good luck to you!', but it's not like that, is it? It's just an unending almost relationship that will not amount to anything but you stay there waiting for closure. We want neat tidy endings to things and answers to questions. They would rather not have that. Discussing it means confronting the situation and that's just one more thing they have to compartmentalize. God forbid." I felt great about my ability to separate the sexes and dare I say... put them into their own little compartments.
This is something one of my girlfriends and I have become very good at. Normally we have a little male input to set us straight on a few of our misconceptions. Occasionally we even get schooled and told that men have emotions too. It's generally followed up with a comment that rounds back to the old. "Men have two feelings: Hungry and Horny. If you see him without an erection you should make him a sandwich." So there's that.
During a recent discussion about middle-age dating, I stated that I felt the only way to get past the fear of sex might be to just do it. Not random hookup sex. The topic was first time sex with a potential mate. The scenario feels like being a teenager. If you give up the goods will they ever call again? Can you live your life worrying about that? No, not happily anyway. At some point you have to (wo)man up.
So what's the cure for that nagging fear? Pessimism with the tiniest shred of hope. This was our female take on the situation: When the moment is right, the mood is set, and the kissing has become intoxicating but fails to satiate that need... you take off your pants. That's right. Or let him take them off you. Whatever trips your trigger. Do those things you've been thinking about doing. When it's done you put on your big girl panties (if you can remember from which light fixture they might be dangling) and you go home.
Sure, give him a kiss and thank him for a wonderful time, but the only way to keep yourself from being let down if he doesn't call after that is to assume that he won't. We also decided that men probably prefer it that way. You know the old joke, "You know why men pay for hookers? So they'll leave." Be cool. Be aloof. Don't be clingy. Don't call or text him first. Don't do this. Do that. Be this. Don't be that. Ugh... maddening.
When this view was shared with our male co-worker the look on his face was one of disbelief followed by, "Wow, that's really messed up." Fortunately, he proceeded to verify all of the stereotypical single guy traits we'd reminded him of, thus leaving us with a feeling that although our theory was flawed, we might be on to something. Still, the more I played it out in my head the more it sounded like "Be a hooker." That just started to piss me off a little. Worse yet... it was my theory!
So we're back to the drawing board. Tomorrow we'll discuss how superior we are to the men in our pasts. We'll unfairly label all men the same way. Following that we'll see that we're not exactly perfect either... then we'll sit down and get to work. For a little while. Something will come up and we'll be blathering back and forth again... but it's cheaper than seeing a life coach or a shrink. At this rate we'll have figured ourselves out just in time for menopause to strike and cause us to turn into the raging, hormonal, hot-flash having, bitches no one wants to date. Good times. Good times.
Go ahead and tell me I'm wrong. I need to hear that once in awhile.