Dating, part 6: the games begin

My name is Kathryn. I’ve never used it. Won’t, in fact, answer to it because I quite simply don’t recognize that you’re talking to me. I think it’s a lovely name, really. Somehow classy, professional and elegant.

The name was chosen with the absolute knowledge that I would be called, from the beginning, Katie. So, with fleeting thoughts to switching to Kate as I got older, Katie I’ve remained.

Matthew, aka date 2 of 10, went by Matt. My feeling is that sometimes it’s little things like that – simple family structures, how you like to spend your weekends, how often you talk to friends, whether or not you hold the door for the person walking behind you, if you smile when you see someone on the sidewalk, if you enter a room and go straight for the dog or cat, eager to interact with animals. When I have those traits or mannerisms in common with someone, I feel connected in some small, yet nontrivial way.

Dinner with Matt, while equally nerve-wracking, was a lot easier than I expected. I tried to make him comfortable, and he reciprocated, and a lovely dinner was had. Conversation about education, family, dating, work – all tempered by a respectful attention when your date spoke.

I found myself attracted to him, and while he was physically appealing on some level, it was likely more the gratitude that he’d gone out of his way to make my evening pleasant. I decided I liked him, would rather see him again than not. As he walked me to my car afterward, we said good night.

“This is the awkward part.” He said with a half smile. “So I have to figure out if you like me, and vice versa. Then do we kiss or hug or shake hands or do some sort of bowing ritual? I don’t like this part so much.”

Charmed, I replied that I didn’t either, but that I had really enjoyed meeting him and would like to see him again.

“Well, then. Me too.” He replied easily, and with a kiss to my cheek, he watched as I buckled myself into the car and headed home. Not giddy at all, but pleased.

The questions soon followed. We didn’t set up a time to meet – was he just being polite? Should I call him? When? With what to say? How long should I wait for him to call me? He probably didn’t like me at all – thought I was boring, ugly, silly. Lost in the insecurity, then infuriated by it – was this really how I thought of myself? – I decided I’d wait 2 days, then call him. If he wasn’t interested, then fine, but at least I’d know I followed through.

Because I have great affection for some of you, my readers here, and appreciate you indulging my preoccupation with my dating past, I’m going to paste, unedited, a note I sent to Violet the next week. Because while a bit humiliating, it’s also pretty descriptive of the pain that follows decent blind dates.

To: Violet
From: Katie
Date: Monday, Summer, 2002
Re: Matt

So here’s the deal. I called Matt last Wednesday before I left for home to take a long weekend. I was reasonably sure he was going to call back, and I arrived home yesterday evening to no messages and didn’t hear from him last night either. So, I was hurt and disappointed, because I really did like him and really don’t like the rejection feeling. So I was sorry that I ever called him. Then, I’ve been feeling kind of down today (not just because of that, I don’t think. I’m just kind of blah). So I went home to have lunch and take a nap to try to pep myself up a bit. So there was a message from him on my machine, left at a little before noon. When I called him last Wednesday, I asked if he’d want to go to a baseball game tonight, told him I’d be out of town, and I think that’s about it. So when he called today, he said tonight wouldn’t work because he had “other commitments to attend to” and that he was sorry for the delay in calling me back and that I could call him at a number that he gave.

So my basic question is do you think this is some kind of subtle game? Like he’s not interested (which if so, why call at all? I was dealing with him not being interested before I had to deal with this new development today) but feels badly about not calling, so he’s going to call when I’m not there? Am I supposed to call him back or did he just say that because he wasn’t sure how to end the message? When should I call him back? I’m not good at playing games with people – I’d rather just deal with things on an honest level, so on that point, I’d just as soon call him tonight, find out what’s going on, and be done with this whole thing. When things like this happen, it makes me think that it’s hard to have relationships with people like this, so I just quit. I don’t like it when things are hard, Violet! And this is dauntingly hard for me. If I had more confidence, I think I’d take it easier, and just handle it, but I don’t, so I’m lost as to what to do.

Katie

As you can see, my fondness for the word “so” is long standing. As I smile over that, I feel badly for myself. I remember being hurt and confused and wanting to give up. But I had a plan! You can’t neglect the plan so soon after its inception!

After reading this yesterday, I found myself paging down, looking through folders on my desktop computer in the office, trying to answer my internal question. “What did I do?!” Because I honestly couldn’t remember. I didn’t see him again, I’m sure of that. One important thing for me to take away from this particular post is that what hurts at the time becomes completely trivial in the future. The good memories remain strongest for me - I let those replay in my mind often. But the bad stuff? It kind of goes away.

I frowned and told myself to think of other things – it would come back to me.

It did. I did return his call, per Violet’s advice, after waiting a couple of days. We talked for about an hour, and I started to feel really good again. I wasn’t forcing the conversation – was, in fact, overly sensitive to any sign that he wanted to let me go. We talked, and made plans to meet on Saturday morning for some outdoor event. He wasn’t sure what time, and I was flexible, so he said he’d call in a day or two to confirm plans.

And he never did. I never called him either, feeling as though my effort in this portion of the dating series was sufficient. As noted in the email, dealing with someone like this - who was either not interested or manipulating me by his back and forth - lacked appeal.

The point from this one, and I think it’s relatively important, is that those little parts of yourself I mentioned at the beginning – the nickname I continue to use into adulthood, how I treat people even in passing, how I react to the after-date situation – they’re somehow critical.

I learned something about myself – that the games were hard for me. Much as I wish I could report that I never participated, separating myself to deal with men in an honest, dignified way, it turns out that I just got really good at playing them myself. Decided that withholding attention, sending mixed signals, making sure I was busy on nights he might call so he thought I was popular and important, was the way to trick someone into falling for me.

We can see now, and I had a growing feeling then, that this experiment could be going awry.