Off to the Races
Tonight, I’m off to the races. Literally and figuratively. First of all, my sister has an extra ticket to a NASCAR race in Richmond, so I’m literally going with her to the race. I’ve never been to a race for fun, but a few years back I worked at a race for one of my clients, which was a company that sold night vision binoculars. At these races, we walked around surveying drunk rednecks about what they would use night vision binoculars to do. Most popular answers? Night hunting (illegal) and peeping (as in peeping Tom – also illegal). So that’s to say, I’ve never really enjoyed the NASCAR experience myself. But, tonight’s a different story.
Tonight, I’m “off to the races,” more figuratively as well. You see, I’ve been sort of living a lie these days. I say that I am dating and that I am not in a committed relationship with Chef, but in reality I’m not really dating in as much as I am being really picky and not dating – anyone but Chef, that is. In fact, I haven’t even been recklessly flirting since my run-in with SPO (Well, I’ll admit. There has been flirting. But not nearly enough to call reckless). Seems a little like I’m in a relationship, without really being in a relationship.
Although Chef has driven me crazy a bit recently, I still like him and have come to peace with many of the issues. I have fun with him and I’m not ready to let it go for some of my crazy and not-so-crazy pet peeves. In fact, I had a moment where I initiated the, “Are you happy with how things are going?” conversation with Chef.
About 25 percent of me wanted to consider just not lying anymore and say it, “I’m not dating. In fact, I just want to date you and see what this is. I don’t want to date anyone else because it just feels creepy because much of the time, I’d rather be with you.” This is the same 25 percent of me that was going through a breakup hangover and was starting to really miss being in a relationship.
The 75 percent of me that knew I was certainly not ready for (or desirous of) a relationship was quieted by the 25 percent of me. For some reason, I wanted to feel him out (my love for drama?!). I suspect it would have been closer to 50/50 if he were agreeable. So I asked him what he thought about being in a relationship with me, or taking what we had to the next level.
Well, let’s just say the waters were not warm. He indicated that he was not ready to be committed to me; he usually moves too fast in relationships and wants to slow things down this time around; and while he’s not dating anyone else, he’s really not ready to make me a top priority (when he’s already so busy with his bar/restaurant). He’s just really happy with the way things are right now. Not to say he doesn’t see possibility in our future.
It stung, a little. Everyone wants to be wanted. But, wasn’t 75 percent of me in the same place? And why the hell did I let the 25 percent of me take over the good logic in the other 75 percent of me and cause me to have this very awkward, ill-fated conversation? I’m not mad at Chef, I’m just glad that his little speech brought me to my senses. And while it might sound like he was mean about it, he really was not – he was just honest, and I had asked.
That was all this past Monday. This is Friday. It’s race day. And I’m off to the races. It’s time to stop pretending to date and recklessly flirt – it’s time to actually date and recklessly flirt. I began the process Wednesday when I asked my dentist’s office if they had any cute patients for me during a routine cleaning. After a few texts, we learned that the only guy they could think of had just gotten a girlfriend. Yes, it was a fail, but you can’t win if you don’t try. I’ve been a texting fool with a few guys from Plenty Of Fish (one of them may or may not be Fireman, I know he sucks but he’s apologized and I actually find him humorous. I may meet him – just for a quick drink). Lastly, I’m starting to make it a goal to flirt with at least one person a day. Gotta keep in practice! And I read this blog earlier this week: New Month? New Men where this woman is trying to go on 30 dates in three months. If she can commit to that, surely I can commit to flirting with someone at least once a day! Hmm, maybe just every other day. When I’m feeling cute. What do you guys think?
So watch out, Richmond male NASCAR fans taller than 5’ 11”, look to be about the age of 24-33, seem to have a 401(k), no kids, are not on parole and are not “separated” from their wives. You watch out. Catherine is off to the races.