Let me clarify: I am not the disaster with men that I am wont to portray myself as. But let’s be serious — I am no sensei either, or else I’d have no material for this column. So let’s just say that I’m … creative in my approach.
But for all who are concerned, I am not a total cat lady.
After all, I did just have a chat with my landlord about a broken bed frame. And come to think of it, it’s about time I pay my chiropractor another visit …
But let’s be frank: You don’t have to be a rocket scientist to get someone to stick his hand down your shorts. To get him to pay for dinner? Now that, my friends, is an entirely different story.
So my new standard is no more “weekend” dates. You know, the kind where you see each other only on weekends and only after 10 p.m. No, I’m gunning for all-out dinners with a movie — followed by a one-night-stand, if the dinner was delicious but the guy not so much (Hey, I’m trying to make progress here, but baby steps, my friends).
You see, prior to this revelation, my approach to guys was super relaxed. My liberal use of the “come-over-to-watch-a-movie-oh-sorry-we’ll-have-to-watch-it-on-my-very-small-twin-bed-because-the-T.V,-broke” works excellently in the dark. But the technique does not make for good pillow talk the morning after.
Take, for example, my recent soiree. So I’ve been seeing this guy on and off for some time. Nothing too serious, just the way I like it. Right? So I thought.
Despite the casual nature of our escapades, he’s mildly interesting as well. Like, it would not pain me severely to be seen in public with the dude. I know, right? I hit the friends-with-bens jackpot!
So when he got back in town after a stint abroad, I suggested coffee, because in addition to a lot of things, I’m pretty good at talking, too.
And what the heck, I thought. This is a new year! A new me! Friends can be friendly inside and outside the bedroom, comprende?
No comprende … because as I was clutching my latte, I couldn’t help but peer through its steaming milk across to my bosom buddy (so to speak) and think to myself, “I’m pretty sure I’ve seen you in your underwear.”
Do you know how hard it is to hold a conversation when all you can think of is … you know … that?! Well, let me tell you my friends, it is really flipping difficult.
And that’s when it hit me: A friendship like that is not sustainable. Sure, it’s fun. A lot of fun.
And when my high school girlfriends get together to discuss their recent conquests, I can at least join in the conversation. (Though it’s getting increasingly difficult to compete with them. I mean, one of my girlfriends just got with a married guy who’s got two kids! You can’t top that — no way.)
So short of resigning myself to celibacy, I’m resolving to go the other route. Am I seriously entertaining the idea of some guy getting down on his knee for me before the new year is outgoing year? Absofreakinglutely not. Sure, my parents got married at 22. They are also clinically insane. I’m okay with a few wrinkles on my wedding photos. As far as I’m concerned, that’s what Photoshop is for.
But I am going to try to move towards more coffee-and-one-nighter and eventually less-than-just-one-nighter-with-maybe-more kinds of relationships. I think this is a step in the positive direction. I’m not entirely sure how I’m going to go about this plan, but that’s what the self-help section of Barnes and Noble is for anyways.
At the very least, I’ll hone some epic conversation skills out of this attempt. I mean, let’s be serious … it takes a communication pro to hold a friendly chat without imagining what your partner’s tighty-whities looks like every three seconds.
Cristina Stiller is a junior in the College of Arts and Sciences. She may be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org. Believe You Me appears alternate Mondays this semester.
Original Author: Cristina Stiller