I have a huge crush on a pretty girl that I just met. Admittedly, I don't know her that well, but she's got a great personality and big, dreamy eyes. I felt myself goin' all ga-ga staring into them. She gave me her phone number (I didn't even have to ask), but she doesn't return my calls. (I've only called her a few times . . . not like every five minutes or anything.) I'm thinking about her a lot maybe too much.
Maybe I'm nuts, but have ya ever met somebody special like thatsomeone whose very gaze is enough to enamor you? I don't mean to sound obsessive . . . I don't think I am. But, wow, she was something else.
A friend of mine tells me that I'm being given the "five-day waiting period" the idea being that she does not want to seem too eager. Maybe I should just chill out. Then again, maybe I should just get over it. Am I just a complete loser?
You, young man, have to chill the fuck out. Did you see Swingers? If not, please rent immediately. Watch and cringe as the Jon Favreau character calls and calls and calls yet again the pretty girl he just met. We've all been there. Stop it. Now. That is a direct order. You're not a loser or an idiot, but twice is the maximum number of times one person can call another without getting a callback. Otherwise you're moving quickly into stalker and/or pathetic territory.
I guess I finally got the message last night after being shit upon and fucked over for the umpteenth time. Tell me, Judy, is there a decent female in any of the Western world, or do they all fall under the "user-bitch" category?
I'm either viewed as a case that needs to be changed, or "accepted" only for what can be had from me before finding myself licking the swill from the bottom of the Dumpster. I can be in it for the wet 'n' cozy no-strings thrill, or for the committed long haul. All I ask for is a smidgen of civilized, rational companionshipminus the rigs, pipes, cranial olympics . . . and incessant rap yapping.
Every time I read your column, I see someone (that would be you) wandering around, hoping for the same thing, and settling for the mongrel turds as if that were the "real" pie in the sky. I think you're better than that. I'm beginning to wonder if I am. Meeting over a latte, bad mud, or a sour would sure be refreshing, don't you think? (Don't worry, I pawned the ax to finance my therapy.)
I haven't had much experience with being a user (as most of the guys I date don't have anything I could possibly use them for), but I do know the type of woman who dates "project boyfriends." And I'm horribly embarrassed to admit that I've been that girlon more than one occasion. It's just that there are so few viable candidates out there, when a girl finds one with half a brain and a fully functional penis, she can get a little carried away. So what if he's an alcoholiche's smart, she thinks. He just needs the love of a good woman to make him quit drinking. Or maybe he's super cute and funny, but has the ambition of a sea sluga girl can get overexcited and begin to fantasize that once he sees how nice it is to go to restaurants with cloth napkins, Loserboy will shape up and get a job that's slightly more challenging than alphabetizing videotapes or selling weed to his friends.
But you don't seem like a loser. Some girls just want to change a perfectly nice guy in the same way that a dog marks his territory. I suspect these are the types you're encountering, as you seem relatively coherent and intelligent.
All I can suggest is that you do as I do keep looking. I'm certain there are nonfreaks out there waiting for both of us. And thanks for your offer, but as I don't drink coffee and have no idea what the other two beverages you mentioned might be, I'll have to respectfully decline. Thanks though!
Don't wait! Write Dategirl at firstname.lastname@example.org or c/o Seattle Weekly, 1008 Western, Ste. 300, Seattle, WA 98104.