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.