Christ, Facebook, I just posted on Saturday.
Frickin’ Stage 5 clinger.
This amuses me more than it should…
Dude wrote me back within 24 hours this time, accepting my offer of “naked or otherwise” friendship, because duh. (“We’ll have to have a discussion next time we hang out.” Mm hmm, ‘kay…)
But because I’d deleted him from Facebook, my phone displayed his message once, then sent it to some “other messages” Facebook purgatory that, as far as I know, I can only access on a computer, and…fuck it, I’ve had a long week, and starting up a laptop AND a browser feels like a lot of effort for a dude tryna tell me I’m clingy.
Talk Monday, shitheel.
^^^ This should all end well, right…?
Therapist: “So, this thing where you’re calling yourself stupid, and clingy, and crazy — where’s that coming from?”
Me: “I don’t know, I feel like I was pressuring him. He has anxiety and depression, too, and I know how that feels, to have someone demanding your time, another THING you have to keep up with. Honestly, I’m kinda psyched to have Sundays to myself again, so I get where he’s coming from.”
Therapist: “OK, I get that. But from everything you’ve told me — and obviously I’m your Person, so I’m biased — this sounds like it’s him, not you. Basically the only thing you asked him for was more sex. Maybe you could’ve been more direct about saying it, but that doesn’t make it clingy, or crazy, or stupid. Putting aside the sexual component, if you had a friend and communication with them dropped off like it did here, would you be concerned and check in with them?”
Therapist: “That’s not crazy. It’s caring about a human being.”
I LOVE paying people to tell me I’m right.
She told me it was fine to send him an email I’ve written offering a friendship, but the longer I don’t hear from him after the last message I sent, the less interest I have in that idea. I’m not that bad at taking a hint.
OH, OK, cool, so… he hasn’t texted since Monday afternoon, so obviously he decided I’m boring and bad in bed and is going to ghost on me.
^^^ Real thought my brain just had.
Despite the fact that he’s not dumb enough to do that, because if I tell our mutual friends he was mean to me, they will call him a shithead coward forever.
Weirdly, I’m actually kind of OK with wanting to hear from him but not. It’s better than the “please stop talking…” tipping point I’ve reached with previous attempts at dating.
Also… I mean… Not to be conceited, but… I’ve watched his face — I’m not bad in bed.
So worst case, I’m just boring. TREMENDOUS. THAT’S TREMENDOUS.
When’s therapy again?
I didn’t respond to a first OkCupid message I got yesterday, because the guy’s only photo was of his calves and feet in the sand. My profile clearly says I won’t talk to anyone who doesn’t have a face photo, because…it’s DATING. Faces are important. And he’d obviously paid attention to my profile, at least enough that his message referenced both my subtle jokes about cunnilingus. (Don’t judge me, that’s one of the only reasons I’m dating.)
He just sent a followup message: “Really, i get no response…i thought i was witty and charming. Oh well, take care.”
1. I don’t owe you anything.
2. Your passive aggression is not cute.
3. It hasn’t even been 24 hours since your first message. Even if I thought you WERE witty and charming (I didn’t), you wouldn’t have a response yet. I have shit to do. (Reformed Clinger Technique #347.)
4. I can’t know if I want your face between my legs if I don’t know what your face looks like.
I don’t understand this. You know I’ll SEE your face eventually, right? Would you rather we get to know each other via email/text, and then I’ll finally see your face and be like, “Um, no, sorry, that face doesn’t work for me.”
It’s online dating, Cyrano. Hooray for your beautiful soul and all, but I’m never gonna sit on your soul, so I need to see your face.
…OK, fine, I’m not going to sit on his face, either, because I have issues and think I’m going to hurt/smother the guy somehow, even though I know that’s absurd. Regardless, faces still matter.
Talking to a friend…
Me: “I’m thinking about hooking up with an ‘open marriage’ guy from OkCupid.”
Friend: “You could try it. I mean…you’re already IN therapy.”
There’s immense appeal in a guy who’ll come with me to a movie, come with me in the bedroom, then get the hell out. When I try to date proper, I attract Clingers, get anxious, and make terrible choices. That shouldn’t be an issue with one who’s already housebroken.
But I also know myself, and I may be too insecure to come second…literally or otherwise. If Dude satisfies my needs too well, I may catch feels, and if I fall for him, I’m SOL. The wife’s gonna stay the wife — I’d just be Slutty McSidepiece. I do not do well as Slutty McSidepiece.
I wonder if I’d rather fend off Clingers and hold out for a person with whom feels are at least an option, even if we never get there.
Then again… I don’t HAVE to date the guy long. Maybe I NEED a naked friend to fuck some clarity into me without all the relationship crap.
Also, if you consider where I am mentally, I might as well be in an open marriage, too. I have one guy I’d drop anything and anyone to help and/or be with, so as far as my heart and brain are concerned, I also have a “primary partner.” Then I still have the second guy in the back of my head, just for bonus emotional fuckery, so I have even worse trust issues than before. I can’t handle a real relationship, are you crazy?
Plus, if the guy turns out to be boring, I can just say I can’t handle playing second fiddle. (And that may actually turn out to be true.)
I can spot a Clinger at 50 paces now, anyway — “Oh, you’re doing THAT? Yeah, I’ve done that. I INVENTED that. Don’t even.” So far I’ve encountered three on OkCupid, and I’ve dodged them all without ever meeting them.
I’m a Recovering Clinger, and I approved this message.
P.S. I actually ran this by the therapist and she says I’m in the clear as long as I’m safe. She told me it was good for me to explore options, to be aware of those emotional attachments I still have, to be conscious of what I need, and possibly work out a way to GET it without pressuring myself about being in a “proper” relationship. I think this is a good intermittent step, and she seems to agree.
P.P.S. Dude is ADORABLE and I want to make all the sex with him.
I feel bad getting over a guy I haven’t met just by reading his texts, but… You gave such good OkCupid messages — how do you text like an asshole?
Crap… I’m Mr. Heckles, aren’t I?
I told him politely that text-speak makes me twitchy, which is IN my OkC profile. He said that’s how he texts because he doesn’t have a smartphone, and, “i hate texting all together but im paying my dues until we can meet.”
Yeah, I’m out. I’d told him I was trying to relax after this week sucked the life out of me, but for every text I sent, he sent three. The last time it was five.
Listen, the rule about buttsex also applies to you being in my ass with poorly punctuated texts.
He asked if text speak bugged me THAT much. It does. But combined with you sending five texts with no response, and referring to getting to know each other a BIT via messaging so I’d feel safe meeting in person as “paying my dues?” Oh, sorry I won’t just meet a strange man from the Internet who can’t leave me alone for a day.
I’ve behaved this way, I know, so this is karmic payback. I was clingy with That Guy; I knew it at the time and have considered in hindsight how irritating it must have been. But since then it’s also happened to me with guys I’ve dated/talked to online, and now I’m a reformed Clinger. It’s the WORST, and I’m no longer tolerant or indulgent of it. I admit I can be obsessive, but I work very hard not to burden others with it. (You people notwithstanding. You subscribe, that’s on you.)
See, the deal with my particular self-hatred is, I have BEEN clingy (more on this later), and I talk too much, and these are things I’ve hated about myself. So as my potential suitor, YOU can’t be clingy and talk too much, because I will hate it even more in you.
I am attracted to guys who are…not unavailable, per se (though I’ve clearly been there). But definitely less emotive than I am.
I’m like a skittish baby deer, and if I feel like you’re coming on too strong, I’m taking my fluffy ass back into the wild. None of my meat for you.
…OK, wait, I lost control of the deer metaphor.
Don’t be clingy, is my point. Once you’ve pushed me to thinking “OMG, PLEASE STOP TALKING,” we’re probably done.
A happy bonus of working in a huge office complex is that, walking through the halls, I often see new people who work in other offices.
New, sexy people. With penises.
And sometimes I see them on casual Friday, when I did realize how clingy my outfit is, but it was too late to change it, so, “Hello, sir. Please behold all the best bits of my body — an hourglass with just the right amount of extra sand in it.” (“Allllll the right junk in allllll the right places.”)
I love my job.
A friend diagnoses me:
Me: “This is a disturbing cycle I keep repeating.”
Friend: “You’re unhappy with yourself, so you can’t respect anyone who likes you. Or he’s just a clingy goober.”
Me: “Well, shit. You just saved me $75 in therapy.”
Friend: “Well, let’s say I saved you $25.”
Me: “Because self-hatred is only one-third of my problem?”