LOVE: THE CHOSEN ONE

Needless to say, I haven’t really found someone I’m interested in, even after making a whole new commitment to putting myself out there. I always try to find the lesson in everything — the silver lining that will make it all make sense, that will make it all seem part of a grand scheme, or some predetermined fate that I can’t even begin to visualize yet. But really the only thing I’ve become convinced of is…

…dating can suck. It can honestly, really, really suck.

It’s constant disappointment. It’s something being off even if you’re not quite sure what that something is. It’s trying to avoid the wolf underneath the sheep, and to find the sheep that’s hidden by your mesmerization with the wolf. It’s hoping for a someone you’re not entitled to meet just because you’re you. It’s a lot of scheduling and work, compromising and wondering when it’s all going to fall into place. Frankly, it’s so exhausting, I’m tired of writing about it — but…

…I still want to do it.

Because you can’t find the right one if you don’t know how to spot a bad one. And you can’t get what you want if you refuse to go after it. Or to let it go after you. You can’t have your heart feel those many wondrous things it longs to feel if you don’t open it wide enough to let someone touch it. To capture it.

Internet dating is the new bar scene, which means there are a lot of people in my boat. And internet dating is just not the same as meeting someone at a bar. For example...you look at my picture and that caused you to respond to me..

Most people based their internet dating on picture. Most woman see a handsome picture of a guy and they don't know at him at all. They have fallen in love with a pretty face, and an idea. The image of who he is, what he cares about, his flaws and perfections, are nearly entirely made up through their imagination. That alone should be a problem for any rational person. But love isn’t rational – or so I hear.

More specifically, most woman knee-jerk reaction is to the idea that she fell in love with a face. With the way he looks. Does that mean that looks are really all that matter? And if people are calling this romantic, does that mean that our society is ok with the idea of falling in love with the way someone looks? What ever happened to being a good person? An honourable man or a knowledgable man?

I am not arguing that physical attraction doesn’t matter – it does. You need that initial physical attraction to notice the other person at all. But, it’s definitely not sustainable. What if the man who looks like your dream guy has a problem with gas? What if Mrs. Dreamboat picks her nose and eats it?

And isn’t that the goal? Find someone who mixes with you? A partner in crime? A yin to your yang?


Most average woman who goes after men who are
a) heavily pursued
b)have a lot of options or
c) are wicked obnoxious.

Women in their twenties and thirties pursuing the Don Drapers, They come to Manhattan with dreams of meeting the rich i-banker.They don’t care how smug or self-important he is. They want the man who will help them believe that they are more attractive or engaging than they really are. The problem is that they can’t compete. So rather than setting their sights lower, they decide to make it about how awful and entitled the men are. For the record, nobody is debating this point. But if you would just accept that you belong in a certain caste and stop trying to date out of it, your experience would become exponentially more positive.

You message these men on dating sites because you want them to go out with you. You want to be The Chosen one, and when you repeatedly fail, you heap all of the blame and frustration on men. You play a huge part in this and you need to get that. These men? They don’t have to choose you They will sleep with you, but won't marry you. They have more than enough options. Common sense would dictate that you lower your standards. But no. Much like the men who suffer from similar chips on their shoulder, you’re going to continue to go after men way out of your league because you can’t admit that you just aren’t what they are looking for.

Yes, I know. You’re awesome. If people would only give you a chance, etc. Sweetie, nobody owes you a Blue Ribbon just for participating. Everybody doesn’t get a trophy. Only the winners. You want to win, you compete in the appropriate class. If you want to compete in a higher class, you train for it.You do not sit around and whine about how unfair it all is. Nothing – and I mean NOTHING – is more unattractive than a weak woman. Whining and complaining are inherently weak traits.There is no dignity in that. Not for men. Not for women.

There’s a lot of talk about the Sexual Market Place and the man’s value or lack there of in it. Well, here’s what you need to understand. The more of these whiny, disgruntled women that enter the market place, the higher the value of the entitled man. That man is the one all of you woman are trying to date, whether you admit it or not. I mean, if you were pursuing decent, kind, feminine men, you wouldn’t be complaining in the first place.

If all a woman wants is someone to call a boyfriend and to follow her around, she can effortlessly find one. The Alpha guys don’t want her and will use her for a month or two only to discard her. Once she’s had enough of that she’ll settle for The Beta, but she won’t see it as settling because The Beta showers her with attention and validation and gifts and meals. Anything to compete and keep her interested. She’ll continue to ride that carousel for years on end until she’s sitting alone in her apartment and telling everybody how she “chose” to be single or how she’d rather be alone than in a bad relationship or whatever mantra she repeats endlessly in an attempt to avoid the real reason she’s single.

Meanwhile the rest of us, aka The Ones Who Get It, are out here happily dating decent, good, fun, attractive to us people. We’ve accepted our league. We’ve learned to spot the signs of someone who might pose trouble down the road. We don’t over-think or over-analyze every little thing. We employ critical thinking. We’re not talking about how hard dating is or how nobody responds to us because dating isn’t hard for us and people do respond because we know what we can pull. We’re not quitting. We accept that it all means nothing until it means something. We aren’t marking down days on the calendar until we can bray or write smug tutorials about how we found a boyfriend or girlfriend.

In short, we’re Dating Realists. Join us, won’t you?



PART II


Somewhere in this world, and perhaps in this city, lives a woman.

She is a living, breathing, actual person with a history that I don’t know. She was born somewhere and she may or may not have moved away from her hometown. She has a freckle in an odd place that’s hidden away under her clothes. She has an ex-boyfriend who broke her heart, a certain way she loves to be kissed, and she may care less if the Jets won or loss. She has a food that she can’t get enough of, a vegetable she isn’t the biggest fan of, and a scar that has a story. Her girlfriends known since elementary school and a teacher who made an impact that lasted past the classroom. She knows every single word to a few songs, has read a book or two that she couldn’t put down, and she has a place she dreams of going, but never has. She may have an affinity for intelligent men who like to write.

I haven’t met this woman. Or if I have, I don’t know it yet. But this person, with all of her incredible and messy qualities, is the woman I have faith I will meet, and marry one day. I don’t believe in the idea of a soulmate who makes your “half” a whole, but I do trust there is a single person for everyone, who is suitable (and preferable) for life-long commitment.

Before this journey, the fact that my person, my wife-to-be, existed, and I had no control over when I’d meet her – really bothered me. I would watch all of my friends, either on Facebook or in real life – getting engaged, talking about how they met their match, and waltzing down the aisle, and all I could think was: “Why not me?! Why don’t I deserve to meet my gal? Where the hell is she?“

And so, to combat these desperate thoughts that made me feel unworthy and unattractive, I immersed myself in romantic illusions about her – and at any given moment, I prepared for our paths to cross.

Somehow, fantasies of an elusive Ms. Right: what she’ll look like, how she’ll kiss me, how we’ll meet, how we’ll both ‘just know’, and how it will all play into a divinity I’ve yet to experience – are easier to dream about then to focus on what really deserves attention: myself.

And that’s a self-defeating approach I’ve seemed to master. I’ve had a reoccurring dream about being married to someone named Laura, who I’ve yet to meet – but if you’re out with me, and a woman says her name is Laura, my head whips around quicker than it does when I see a sample sale near my office. I’ve filled nearly 5 years of writing of “Letters to My Soulmate” that have chronicled my life and as ridiculous as it may sound, I went to a psychic (who has been scarily accurate thus far) and she told me to put a rose quartz in the most right-hand corner of my room along with a list of all the qualities I looked for in my future soulmate, to bring her near me, faster.

Until I realized that my expectations of this woman, who while I’m sure will be kind and beautiful will most likely not be a princess, and will really have no need for me to rescue her from anything. So what was I doing putting all of this energy into her? Especially when I haven’t even, technically, met her?

While I was picturing her, getting lost in the endless wondering of when (or if) I would meet her or pondering if I could catch a glimpse of her on the next train or bump into her at the next cocktail hour – I had forgotten that a relationship with myself is really the one I needed to be working on.

Really, I knew had a choice: I could get lost in this fantasy character I’ve established in my mind, with blond hair, blue eyes, and perfect, succulent lips who like to have sex all the time than I can dream of (but is insanely humble and talented) – or I could first accept myself, and then accept her, for whoever she is. This doesn’t mean I settled for less than I deserved or lowered my standards, but I realized that instead of writing her letters and wishing on a “magical” pink-colored stone, I could just go about my life and let whatever is meant to happen, happen.

I still have a ways to go on this journey, but I hadn’t realized how much progress I made until a beautiful stranger locked eyes with me on the subway yesterday and I smiled back, before getting off at my stop – and it occured to me: I haven’t thought about running into Ms. Right in such a long time.

And that was it. I did it. I finally let go of anticipating our encounter or wishing on stars to meet her.

And today, I’m a living, breathing person. I have dozens of stories that she doesn’t know. I’ve been lucky to love some wonderful women, and I’ve learned from the ones who have done me wrong. There are foods that I would never give up,and I admittedly have memorized most Backstreet Boy songs. I have a scar on my left wrist that’ll forever remind me of how i burned my wrist making lunch for a picnic with one of my ex. I’m full of endless hope and can be inspired by even the slightest of sightings, conversations, or words. I’m short, but my personality isn’t.

Regardless of when she stumbles into my life or what she is really like or what color her eyes are, I am just as important of a character, of a person, as she is. And finally, she isn’t my top concern, my highest priority, or the thing I worry the most about. I don’t dress to impress her, imagine all of the ways I could meet her during the activities before me each morning, or curse the universe for delaying our impending marriage.

Instead, my look, my style, is my own. I look forward to the moments of my day where I’ll do something that’s fulfilling and helps others. And I thank the heavens above for giving me the chance and the drive to devote my passion, my enthusiasm to the most important, most beautiful, and most life-altering relationship I’ll ever experience: the love I have for me, or what I’d like to call myself…Mr. Right.