I got to thinking about relationships and partial lobotomies...

two seemingly different ideas that might just be perfect together - like chocolate and peanut butter.

Okay, so this weekend I made a self-discovery. Typically I welcome self-discovery; as I have stated I am the kind of person that takes personality quizzes, fills out surveys, actually enjoys counseling, all in the attempt to find something out about myself that I was not already aware of. This weekend it hit me, and frankly, it caught me by surprise.

Friday night, after hanging out with Cara, I went to Bedford Street with Ashley and Cliff to hear Candace play. Anyway, I sat at a table with several of Ashley's friends from high school (three guys) and talked to all of them for a total of 30 minutes max. Later that night at Ashley's, she receives a phone call from one of the guys...Jason. Randomly, he asks to speak to me. He tells me that though he finds my glasses intimidating (which I don't get...they're just glasses) he wants to know if I will accompany him to a movie the next night before Ashley and Cliff's concert. I hesitantly, because I thought he was kidding, or drunk, or wouldn't follow through, said yes. Imagine...the anticipation is already building.

The next morning I am woken up at 10am by my cell phone. It's an unknown number. I answer the phone:
"Hello."
"Hello."
"Who is this?"
"Jason."
"Jason who?"
By this time a) it sounds like a knock-knock joke and b) I have already made a fatal flaw by saying "Jason who?" I am such a fool. But, in my defense, I know another Jason. However, the Jason I know knows better than to call at 10am on a Saturday.

The conversation continues. We decide on dinner instead of a movie. I hang up the phone knowing I will see him at 6:30. The anticipation continues to grow.

Sidenote: I just got out of a long-term, laid-back relationship, so the feeling of anticipation is somewhat new to me. Heck, let's just go ahead and "call a spade a spade"...it was fear.

Anticipation/fear...whatever. It was real. What will I wear? Fear. I should offer to pay for my own dinner, right? Are we going "dutch"? (I realize one of my friends doesn't know that this means that you each pay for your own meal...so I thought I should clarify.) Man, I hate first dates. Anticipation. He doesn't even know my last name. What all do I tell him? I always say too much. Fear. Do I take my own car to the concert? Is he going to try to kiss me at the end of the night? Anticipation. Do I have anything in my teeth? Should I tell him I watch Lifetime? Oh my gosh, what if he likes anime? Fear. His hand is on my leg. I don't know how I feel about this. Anticipation. He is telling me that the nudge at the concert meant I should have held his hand. I didn't know that. I am out of the dating loop. Fear. He asks if we can get together on Sunday. What do I say? I feel pressure. Does he want a relationship right off the bat? Anticipation. He is leaning in...is he going to kiss me? Do I want to kiss him? Fear. Oh, thank God. He is just giving me a hug. Deep sigh of relief as I head up to my apartment to slip into comfortable pajamas. Oh, sweet apartment...you don't pressure me; you don't care if I watch Lifetime in pants that are so worn they have holes; you don't care that I have on no make-up and you don't talk about video games incessantly. I wish first dates could be skipped over completely. I wish you could go straight into the comfortable moments I mentioned above, being with someone that knows what I like and what I don't, and when his hand settles on my leg I am not caught off guard.

What I learned about myself: I am a date-a-phobic. I, who have always thought of myself as having the ability to hold my own in conversations with strangers and keep a cool head in stressful situations, completely feared a date with a great guy. Maybe it's because I was comfortable in a relationship for so long that I am unsure of what to do with myself in situations like these. I want to sit down with someone that already knows me. Someone I don't have to spend hours catching them up on what activities I was involved in in high school, how many siblings I have, whether or not I like to travel, what I want to do in the future, etcetera, etcetera. It's exhausting really. It reminds me of a conversation from Sex and the City:

Charlotte: I've been dating since I was fifteen! I'm exhausted! Where is he?
Miranda: Who, the White Knight?
Samantha: That only happens in fairy tales.
Charlotte: My hair hurts.

Seriously, thinking about this makes my head hurt. I have to see the light at the end of the tunnel though. One day, a wonderful first date will lead to an incredible second date. Then, after a unforeseen amount of time, I will realize that this one is the one. That moment will make up for all of the mundane conversations about who my favorite bands are and whether or not I prefer my coffee black or with cream and sugar.

This entry makes me think of this song.

"Comfortable" by John Mayer

I just remembered that time at the market,
snuck up behind me and jumped on my shopping cart
and rolled down aisle five.
You looked behind you to smile back at me,
crashed into a rack full of magazines.
They asked us if we could leave.

I can’t remember what went wrong last September,
though I’m sure you’d remind me if you had to.

Our love was comfortable and so broken in.

I sleep with this new girl I’m still getting used to.
My friends all approve,
say she’s gonna be good for you.
They throw me high fives.
She says the Bible is all that she reads,
and prefers that I not use profanity.
Your mouth was so dirty.

Life of the party and she swears that she’s artsy,
but you could distinguish Miles from Coltrane.

Our love was comfortable and so broken in.
She’s perfect.
So flawless.
Or so they say.

She thinks I can’t see the smile that she’s faking,
and poses for pictures that aren’t being taken.
I loved you.
Grey sweatpants.
No makeup.
So perfect.

Our love was comfortable and so broken in.
She’s perfect.
So flawless.
I’m not impressed.
I want you back.