Post Date Anxiety

I have been actively dating and looking for a long term relationship in Boston for going on 6 years, give or take.  I have been on literally hundreds of dates. Some of the dates were total trainwrecks, others were as exciting as watching paint dry, some were good, and a select few were fucking amazing. No matter how many dates I go on, or how much fun I actually had on the date, there is one thing that always happens; post-date anxiety.

For the first 2-3 hours post date I am filled with the anxiety that I think most people probably experience prior to their date. Did he like me? Why did I say that? What did he mean by that? Fuck, I'm an idiot. Will he call? Should I call him? Do I want him to call me? What would my mother say? What would my fag hag think? It is a series of endless questions that can be easily assuaged by a simple text from the other person. A yay or nay, a thumbs up or a thumbs down.

What's odd is that I don't have any of these anxieties prior to the date. I'm not nervous. I don't worry about what I'm wearing or how my hair looks. I simply go with the thought, "This is me....fuck it I can't do anything about it." Somewhere between meeting my date and spending some time with them I go from "fuck it" to "God I hope he liked me". Even on bad dates, I want the other guy to like me. I don't ever want to be the guy someone tells his friends about as the worst date of their life.

If I liked the guy and it was what I would consider a good date, then "God I hope he liked me" quickly divests into a series of insecurities about how I look, my physicality, my clothing choices, my word choices, what I ordered, and my choice of body language as we said goodbye (i.e. why did I hug him, a fist bump what the fuck were you thinking).

I'm not sure if I will ever really get over this. Its a product of my own self esteem I think. When left to my own devices I am able to convince myself that I have my shit together, but the minute I compare myself to anything in the outside world I rapidly feel inadequate and unaccomplished. Further fueling my inadequacies is my desire to be with someone that might actually give a shit about me.

I often profess how comfortable I am being alone and single, and more often than not, that confession is a complete fallacy. I worry about being alone forever. I am concerned that I might never get the family I want. I fret that I will have no one to share my professional accomplishments with when I come home. I brood about what adulthood would be like if the only men in my life were Ben and Jerry and Jose. I agonize over wanting the American dream and being satisfied with an alternative version of it.

The one thing that I am grateful for about this post-date anxiety is that it never pervades my preparation for another date. If the post-date anxiety becomes too much then all I need do is schedule another date with someone else. It's kind of like having an eye opener to stave off a hangover. Probably not the best idea in the long run, but sometimes we all need the quick fix.

Later

Tchau!!

50 Posts and Still As Single As Ever!

Here we are at post 50 of this blog experiment and I am still as single as the day that I first started it. I have still never had anyone that I would consider a boyfriend. Still not a single soul that I would even introduce to my brother never mind my mother or father. I'm not sure if I am more disappointed in myself for not being able to sustain any semblance of an adult romantic relationship or if I am more disappointed in the absolute lack of any type of normal man that I would want to be in a romantic relationship with at this point in my life.

Yesterday was National Coming Out Day October 11th. I went out with one of my really good friends to dinner in the South End and then to a bar called Jose McIntyre's in downtown Boston. Dinner in the South End is always fun because the restaurants tend to be fairly well priced with excellent food and drinks and of course a friendly gay atmosphere. This night was no different as we went to Masa and had a grand old time. Then we headed out to Jose McIntyre's for a BC Law get together. I was assured that there would be a ton of eligible future lawyers and I figured What The Hell....

When we got to Jose's we didn't pay a cover at all and headed right up stairs where the DJ was already playing a great set and we both got drinks and just started schmoozing. As I was being introduced to friend group after friend group a few things became very apparent. One was that my friend really is super nice and it is impossible not to like her, which meant I had a lot of people to meet. Two was that I was probably the most ethnic person there and I am only half Portuguese. That's sort of a joke but not really, I think maybe there was one black couple there and a few latinos but that was pretty much it. Three was that as each group of friends met me and I was introduced they would ask what I do and when I would say I was an STD nurse. Then they would ask if I was my friend's boyfriend and there was always this awkward pause. You could see it in their face that they were searching for some sort of confirmation that I was gay or straight, because clearly I was not my female friend's State Street working beau.

I may have completely fabricated this in my head, but honestly that is what it felt like and I couldn't quite figure out why. I never like to leave it up in the air though so I would always make a comment or drop something in casual conversation to make sure that they knew I was open about my sexuality. It puzzled me for about 10-15 minutes because from what I could tell there were a lot of available guys on my team throughout the bar. I mean everywhere I turned my gaydar was pinging for one homo or another. Then it dawned on me when one of the girls asked me if I thought she could make out with a boy who was dancing in a circle and moving his hips like Shakira. "Ummm...yea I'm sure you could make out with him the gays love making out with straight girls." The look of horror in the girl's face said it all. The boy who she was so plainly talking about and who was so obviously gay to me was not out. 

At this point I turned to my friend who had been joined by her boyfriend and asked point blank, "What the fuck? Are all of these guys in the closet? Do they have a weekly tea with the White Witch and Mr. Tumnus?" She looked at me and chuckled. I spent the rest of the night Dancing On My Own. And I was actually perfectly happy about it. Once all of my friend's Northeastern friends started to show up I really began just relaxing and having a good time. The drinks were good and cheap, the music was fun, and there was no reason not to have a good time. 

Then the most gorgeous man I have seen in weeks walked onto the dance floor. He was about 6'4" tall, long brown hair (model long, not homeless long), pretty face, amazing body, white (?), and just seemed to be having a genuinely good time with a bunch of his friends. I gawked like any normal gay man, but ultimately went back to dancing with my friends because he was probably straight or in the closet and it just wasn't going to be worth my time. As the hour went by he kept getting closer and closer to me until we were literally back to back. I was a little taken aback by his dancing ability if I am being completely honest for a 6'4" white guy he at least had rhythm. Then he leaned down and just started talking to me. I was shocked. It wasn't about anything in particular, but still I thought it was weird. Then he went to the bathroom and came back and once again muttered something stupid to me about being underneath the air conditioner vent before going back to our dancing back to back position. 

At this point my friend's boyfriend leaned in and asked me if the guy was hitting on me. I am not going to lie. I hoped so. He was gorgeous. I thought maybe this is it. The one truly gorgeous man in the bar on National Coming Out Day..wouldn't that be a fucking story....

So my female friend went right up to him and basically just asked, "What's your deal my gay friend likes you?" The response was typical, Sorry if I gave him the wrong impression but I'm straight. I wish I could say I was crushed, but I wasn't. I expected it. I think that may actually be worse, I was not even surprised that the gorgeous attractive man was in no way interested in me. 

The night wore on and eventually it was 12:40 and it was time for me to head home before public transportation completely shut down. I got to the orange line and decided that I would just shut my eyes and wait for the train to show up. Naturally I spent at least 30 minutes waiting for the last orange line train. And when I finally opened my eyes it was because I thought I felt someone touch my leg. And there the creeper, some older black guy, was literally sitting and rubbing my thigh. I can't make this shit up! I moved immediately and threw his hand back at him. "Dude what the fuck keep your hands to yourself." I got on a train car and then the guy got on the same one. He literally followed me. Thank God when I got back to Sullivan I was able to get on a bus away from him and head home in peace. 

I came to two conclusions last night. 

One: I may not have someone in my life that I would want to have a romantic relationship with, but really that's okay. I do not want to settle for someone that is not right. I refuse to just be in a relationship to be in a relationship even if it means that I am going to the bar alone and dancing in a group full of couples for the next 10 years. Well....maybe not 10 years I don't want to be that creepy dude at the bar dancing far beyond his expiration date. 

Two: Even if nothing else....at least I'm Out. I never realized how important that really is to me. I've never really thought about the whole being open about your sexuality thing. I've been out for so long and I really am so comfortable talking about it with anyone that I forget that for a lot of people it is not just that simple. The concept of being in the closet and faking a relationship with a girl or faking not finding the right one when they may be sitting in front of you but the same sex so you never let yourself like them is just crazy to me. So even if I end up alone at least I won't be worried its because I never gave it a shot it will be because my perfect other half doesn't exist. 

The only thing that gives me the slightest bit of hope is a sentence that came from the most unsuspecting place last week. My boss is an older female nursing professor who has devoted her life to working with vulnerable populations and teaching students how to take care of them. She is married and has two adopted children and, in a nutshell, she is everything I want to be when I grow up. To get to my point though, while we were working at a clinic in PTown we were discussing future life plans because my nursing counterpart is pregnant and my boss looked at me and said, "Welll you're going to have kids one day so you'll see. I mean you are planning on having kids right? I mean I just always picture you with kids." I was totally taken aback because it just seemed like it came out of no where but it was nice. The nurse whose gut instinct I most trust thinks in her heart of hearts that I am going to end up married with kids. Its not a lot, but its enough hope to get me to keep this blog going until I finally find someone.

Until Next Time....
Chau!!!