a game of losses

In ALL, INTROSPECTION by Stephanie Klein16 Comments

Valentines05This seriously makes me feel sick.  It’s my freaking inbox for the love of God and all things digital. Get out.  Right Now.  It’s the end of you and me.  It’s worthy of Jo Jo lyrics, damn it.

For all my shite and complaining and well thought out, even better articulated, statements and theories about how much I hate being unglued when I’m dating… It’s all a bunch of bullshite.  Liking someone, really digging someone, sucks.  ‘Cause with the excitement and toe-tipping nerves comes anxiety and a reflection of some person you hardly recognize.  But you know what?  It’s really really exciting when someone comes along that makes you unglued, as messy as it is.  You feel more alive.

Seriously, this is why I don’t date.  Wait, I just stopped to read that.  "Don’t date."  I’m so full of shitee.  I do date, albeit wretchedly.  I do indeed "date."  That word is nearly as bad as mole.  It makes me think of a shriveled up fruit people pick out of their food.  I have a date with a fig on prune street.  Ew, Dad, that just came out.

When I like someone, they know it.  I throw it at them like a hurled disc.  Sometimes, I get anxiety like you read about in medical text books.  My body becomes a stomach; I feel nothing else.  I imagine things, over-analyze, and I become someone I cannot stand.  Why? 

This is not one of those times.  I thought it would be, but I’m actually fine.  Not that fine.  I believe in an order to things.  Reasons for things.  Turtles and shite.

I have so much going for me, but sometimes, man, the minute I sensed something wouldn’t work out with someone I wanted things to work out with, I became ill.  I hate the idea of not getting my way.  I hate that the only way I can control the situation is by not controlling it all.  I know that’s what it’s all about.  Timing.  Letting things unfold, softly.  And I hate that I don’t know if I should write this using the past or present tense.  I hate it, and I love it.

He asks, "Can I call you right back in two minutes?" and I convince myself when I hang up that I will never hear from him again.  I have to be okay with that.  Not meant to be.  I make it not meant to be before it even gets its chance.  Confidence, or lack thereof, has only a very small part in this play.  It’s like, "third paperboy" in a list of credits.

Chances are, it won’t work out.  Love, like baseball, is a game of losses.  You come up to bat a lot, and you hit it out of the park so rarely.  Still, you’re a superduperstar even when you lose most of the time.  I know I’m not a loser at love, but sometimes it pretty much feels that way.  Sigh.  Yawn.  Vomit.  I’m tired of listening to myself.

You not only took the step and put yourself out there, you told your friends about him.  Shit, even your family knows.  You hadn’t planned on telling anyone you were "in like," but they heard it in your voice.  “Wow.  I haven’t heard you this excited in… well, wow.”  You can’t take that back.  You can save face in front of the guy if it doesn’t work out, but your friends and hopeful family… they’re onto you.  They know that was really hard for you to do… to let that guard down, but you did it.  You swear you won’t do it again, like drinking ever again when you’re really hung over.  I could say something now about always being hung over, but I won’t.

Comments

  1. So I take it picture #238 is you and the infamous "Stuart?" Looks like a good time!

  2. Man, I wish you all realized this blog isn't always real time. I'm not falling apart; I'm on top of the world with spaghetti and lamb meatballs.

  3. People always treat blogs as real-time. It's ingrained in the medium. That's why I've blogged for years but only now realized I should save late-night posts as drafts and publish later. But with a personal blog, that might not be as wise.

  4. So it be willed through the infinate circle of time that you Stephanie must have committed grave error in past lives to have such current tribulation in the realm of dating.

    The swami says go out tonight and swill a few with Rachey-Rach and company; only this way will you break the endless chain of…losers!

  5. im really impressed by how genuine you've been. keep up the good work. You display your emotions the way they are and thats an attribute that's seldom celebrated in real time or "artificial time". It's very healthy… Life is a series of decisions and it's the decisions that you make that detemine the future of the game.

  6. You are so right about the comparison of love to baseball. As if anyone needs statistics to back it up, but here goes anyway…

    An all-star baseball player hits around .300, which means he gets out 70% of the time. A homerun hitter usually hits over 30 homeruns in about 600 ABs (for those baseball fanatics, I'm rounding). So, he only hits a homerun about 5% of the time. A typical homerun hitter (minus Albert Pujols) also strikes out around 100 times a year or 16.67% of the time. So a homerun hitter has a greater chance of striking out than he does in hitting a homerun.

    For those that really want to look at a comparison for greatness and just a homerun hitter…check out Hank Aaron (.305 career avg, 755 hr, 1383 strikeouts, 12364 AB) vs. Dave Kingman (.236 career avg, 442 hr, 1816 strikeouts, 6677 AB). Even a great player doesn't seem successful from a statistical perspective (i.e. Hank Aaron hit a homerun 6.1% of his ABs while striking out 11.2% of his ABs). However, he dominates when compared to his peers (i.e. Kingman hit a homerun 6.6% of his ABs, while striking out 27.2% of his ABs).

    With love, we are all probably just as comparable of striking out as Kingman is. Matter of fact it might even be worse. If everyone thought about all of the relationships/dates that they have had, how many have really connected and ended in love/marriage? Is it 1 in 20? 1 in 50? 1 in 100? It might even be worse.

    However, does the percentages really matter? I think not. You don't lose in love. It is sort of like Aaron Boone sucking for the entire playoffs and then hitting a homerun to beat the Red Sox. It is just that one that makes it a complete success. Eventually, we will all find that one. When we do, the slate is swept clean, we are now batting 1.000, and we are a Hall of Famer.

  7. Whatever with all this, you know you're a formidable, fire-ball, force of nature kind of women. It may feel like you're navigating a swamp full of dipshit, but ask yourself how much it would suck if you decide not to rock, instead of continuing to rock. And this is not Gin Blossom-level rocking that you do, but Def Leopard, drummer with one arm level, Iron Maddien, Lemmy Kilmiester level rocking, warts and all. If the world didn't have that, then fuck-all we would be screwed.

  8. unless youre a beer league softball player ! i hit 1.233 last season ! (batting average x RBIs or something like that) i dont look at the stats. i just hit the ball. oops, Stephanie doesnt like softball players. DOH!

  9. Shit girl, you're preaching to the choir!! Be careful with that emotional stuff, it bit me in the ass. My last Jdate suitor was also romancing a woman on the West Coast (who sent him a plane ticket, unbeknownst to me!) Now she's pining for the kisses and touches and deep, soul-searching eye gazes he gave her this weekend (which he bestowed upon *me* last month) while he's back online, searching for his next victim!

  10. i don't think any one i know could have described what it feels like to date in this city and really be "in like", more accurately than you have in this post.

    to love deeply is to risk. when we risk, we are we vulnerable, we have the world to lose and the world to gain. yet with out risk we wouldn’t know what it means to be alive, to stand on the knife edge between bliss and pain.

    great post steph. i have been where you have been, and while i hate the roller coaster ride of dating in this crazy town i am addicted to the rush.

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