All Swag Isn't Good Swag

I've been pretty up front about my dating disasters life. At best, it's been an interesting ride, with lots of personal growth and these little teachable moments for the rest of you. (You're welcome by the way, for all the suffering I've been through just so you can avoid going through it too.) At worst, jail time, homophobia and ugly crying in the fetal position on the floor of my office have also been involved (no, not my jail time, silly!). It's been suggested I write a book about my experiences, but I feel like a book is just too public; the internet is a much more private sphere, wouldn't you say? I mean that's why we put our drunk show pictures on Facebook right?

Riiiiiiiiigggggggghhhhhhhhhht.

I recently had another teachable moment on behalf of y'all. Yay! You are so lucky how willing I am to take one for the collective team of single folks and wannabe daters. Before I start, let me disclaim that I was under the influence of alcohol (surprise) and a tinge of dater's desperation. Don't judge me, I've been officially single for a long time! (Did you figure out the answer from the Serially Unsingle equation? The winner gets to buy me a drink.) I don't know if you know this, but even just a smidge of dater's desperation + a few smidges of alcohol = a big old smidge of clouded judgment.

Let me paint the scene. It's late afternoon and me and my girls decide to have a festive libation or two before heading to an event. As I approach the bar to procure the second drink, an alleged gentleman proceeds to converse with me. (OMG, I was having a conversation at the bar! Crazy!) The conversation was good, he made me laugh a lot and he made my friends laugh. Although I couldn't say he was someone I was physically attracted to, he had swag.

[Sidenote: According to the urban dictionary, swag has a pretty negative connotation amongst the youngins that cites douchebaggery and sagging jeans. My understanding is that swag is about how one carries themselves; it's in a confident manner that may sometimes (but not always) involve some boastfulness sprinkled with bragadociousness. I also learned that swag used to be code for Secretly We Are Gay, which in hindsight, could have applied to my date.]

I give him my number and after the requisite waiting period, he called me. There were a couple of pink flags, but since we were just getting to know each other, I filed them away for later. The conversations were definitely entertaining; he just loved to talk about how amazing and different he is from your average dude. He most certainly was impressed by me - talking to me was like talking to himself because I'm so smart and polished and pretty and articulate (this is what he told me repeatedly by the way, this is not my swag showing).

After talking for a few days, those pink flags were starting to darken into a red - not enough to dissuade me from going on an actual date, but enough for me to confess my concerns to my diary.

Dear Diary,
Although I'm thoroughly entertained by this guy, I am concerned about the number of compliments he inflicts on me as well as on himself. I believe I have been placed on a pedestal and while it's flattering, it's also uncomfortable. I also find myself unable to reciprocate these compliments because a. they are not true and 2. I only give compliments when I believe in them. Diary, what should I do? I don't even remember what he looks like, other than he's not taller than me. He also has this high pitched voice and uses the N-word a lot! Am I only entertaining this because he has swag? Oh Diary, decisions, decisions!

When we met for our date, I knew immediately this was not going to be a love connection. Desperate dater or not, there are some things you just know. While the date was mostly fine, at the end, we got into an argument in which he insulted my friends (most of whom he'd never met nor heard much about)! I'll spare you the details, but the crux of the problem was that I was not complimentary enough and I had insinuated that he was just a regular guy - this assertion made it totally obvious that I was not paying close enough attention to his swag. I clearly wasn't listening; he was so smart, so polished, so pretty and so articulate, how could I have missed all of this?

What I realized was that his swag was not real swag, it was all trickerations and bluffery. He spent a lot of time trying to convince me that he was this great guy, when in reality, he didn't even believe it himself. He was trying to get validation from me, someone who barely knew him, and when he didn't, he had a temper tantrum and stormed out of the car. This isn't to say that swag is a bad thing; some of my favorite people carry their swag quite well. However, it's important to pay attention to what else is going on; is their swag well-earned? Is it based on reality or delusions of grandeur? Are they telling you about their swagtasticness or are they showing you in being who they are?

Although I'll never get that Friday night back, I did learn a couple of valuable lessons. 1. Compliments only have meaning when they are genuine. 2. Not all swag is real; it may be smoke and mirrors. 3. If a date isn't going well, I should leave - time is precious. 4. Don't ignore the pink flags because they can quickly (and often do) turn into bright, pulsating red flags. 5. Dater's desperation is no joke - do not mix with alcohol. Again, you're welcome.

Dater's Desperation

I've been accused of many things; being too smart, being too tall and reading books way too fast. I've also been given the side-eye about my relationship with tomatoes (no, I don't swim naked in them, I just love me some tomato-based products but hate tomatoes) and my aversion to wearing uncomfortable shoes despite buying many pairs of them. I say whatever, people don't know my life! However, there is one particular area  that I've had problems with for most of my adulthood and I have been unjustly accused of it being my fault.

Dating.

If you have been following my blog for a while, you're somewhat familiar with my dating disasters life. (If you have not been following my blog, you clearly have been wasting your time looking at other blogs and it's time for you to catch up. Go ahead, I'll wait.) Judging by some of the clowns I've written about, one could deduce that I'm not especially picky. I could blather on and on about being trickerated, but it would not give me back the time and cute outfits I've wasted on those dudes. (I really was told that maybe I was too smart by a date, FYI.) While you indeed could deduce that, you sir/madam would be wrong! Wrong I say!

I am generally picky when it comes to affairs of the heart. I know what I like and I can usually tell when a guy will move beyond the first phone conversation (although nowadays, it's more like a textversation). Apparently, this is my problem - I don't give a guy a real chance. It's been suggested numerous times for me to think outside the box, to let go of my "type" and date someone different. Then I do and I wind up writing about them being liars and sending it to them to read (true story).

Sigh.

There are periods of time when I've quit dating because it's exhausting. However, it gets lonely in these mean streets and sometimes all you want is a boo thang to make you play hooky from work every now and again. It's not a crime; we all need a kiss on the neck to remind us that we're human (and to wash your dirty neck). It's just when we're looking really hard for that kiss, we may forget a couple of things.

Like having standards.

There are ways you can fight this loneliness - spend more time with your friends and family, take up a new hobby (the zither is going to make a comeback any moment, I know it), focus on other aspects of your life that may be a little lackluster. I know it's easier said than done; you've washed your neck everyday, waiting for that kiss. But before you know it, you find yourself entertaining the possibility of dating that guy from the gym who looks like your Aunt Esther. Or that chick who kind of reminds you of Steve Urkel (like he wasn't a total hottie when he turned into Stefan, stop acting like you didn't watch the show). You did get a hello and wink last time your paths crossed; maybe you should take them up on their Jamba Juice for two coupon.

That my friend, may be a sign that you are coming down with a case of Dater's Desperation.

Do not despair, it's nothing to be ashamed of! Almost everyone has experienced it; some have even married under its influence. (DON'T DO IT!!!) If you've been single for a long time and you're tired of it, you may find yourself giving folks a chance who really should not be out amongst the general public. We start making up lies, like how much it doesn't bother us that they're a little cross-eyed or they believe that North Career is a country. It's okay that they chew with their mouth open or that they take a swig of gin first thing in the morning (it kills the germs). It's okay...they kissed you on your neck.

Okay, it was really your elbow, but it most certainly was close. Especially when you raise your hand, your elbow is hella much closer to your neck.

You and I both know this is not okay. You're better than this. Don't give in to the desperation. I can't promise you that you'll find your true love or that "the one" is going to cross your path tomorrow at the grocery store but if you clog your life up with these out-of-desperation folks, there will not be enough room for the right ones. While I've definitely experienced my fair share of Dating Fatigue Syndrome, I know that it can be better. Have patience, young grasshopper.

And don't let nobody kiss on your elbows. Save that for marriage.

Serially Unsingle

I’ve been officially single for a long time. I won’t embarrass myself by disclosing the last time I had a boyfriend, but I will cop to the fact that it’s been more than a year, less than a decade. (If you want to figure out the exact amount of time, multiply 253 by 4, divide it by 7, add 11978 and then go screw yourself.) Did you notice that I used the word officially? Unofficially, it’s a whole ‘nother story.

Many of us find ourselves in hazily and creatively defined relationships with people. Do any of these sounds familiar to you?

1. Dating exclusively, but we’re not into labels (i.e. we act like we’re in a relationship, but if anyone says that they are my boyfriend/girlfriend, I will quickly correct them).
2. “Friends” with benefits.
3. We have an understanding that our relationship is a very private and intimate thing (i.e. we do not go out in public because my significant other may hear about it).
4. We’re sexually exclusive, but can date others. If we want to have sex with another person, we agreed to tell each other before doing so in the most honest and compassionate way.
5.  We date and have sex with each other, but also with others except I can’t confirm or deny that the other person knows that this is the parameters of our relationship.
6. We have an open relationship.
7. We’re not together anymore, but there is no discernible difference between our relationship now and how it was when we were together.
8. We have a relationship; it’s just that the other person is unaware because they like to pretend they don’t know me when our paths cross accidentally on purpose since I happen to know their schedule and where they’ll be every day.

There’s no judgment regarding the kind of relationship you and your boo construct (although #8 may be considered stalking by law enforcement). These days, it seems like a traditional, unmarried relationship is no longer in vogue; it’s almost shocking to hear someone say “This is my boy/girlfriend.” Again, that may not be the path for everyone. However, some of us engage in these relationships in an attempt to avoid being alone and dealing with our sh*t. Quite honestly, we are afraid of being truly alone.

As someone who stayed in an on-again, off-again situationship for far too long, I will be the first to admit that it wasn’t just the love that kept me around. Despite how unhealthy and stagnant the relationship had become, there was an element of validation; someone out there wanted me and I had someone to cuddle with (when we weren’t angry or bitter toward each other). Unfortunately, it got to the point where all that cuddling couldn’t undo all the hurt and frustration. It was better to be single. Not kind of single, not I’m in situation #1-7 (please don’t be in #8), but fa reals single. No one to chat on the phone with, no one to go to the movies with, no one to take as a date to yet another wedding, no one.

Lucky for me, there are a number of toothless gentlemen on my way to work to give me validation.

Although I’ve been truly single before, a lot of people are allergic to being single. We all have that friend who always has someone. Whether it’s just a booty call or a non-exclusive, sexually exclusive, unlabeled situation, they cannot be alone. Yes, sometimes it takes the next one to get the ex one out of your system, but jumping from the ex to the next without taking a moment (or 2304 moments) to really look at what happened in your last relationship is a recipe for repeating the same mistakes….over and over again. <---Yeah, that would be me.

So if you find yourself in an uncomfortable situationship and are staying for the sake of being kinda, sorta, a little tiny bit, sometimes on Wednesdays booed up, maybe it's time for you to try being alone.We often forget how much time and space another person takes up. It's actually pretty cool being alone; you learn all kinds of sh*t about yourself. Not only that, it gives you a little bit of time to clear out the funky socks and dirty drawls that are left in your baggage before you take it on the next adventure.