For a while now, particularly since I moved to LA, I've been giving out my phone number to anyone who asks for it.
In part, in my quest for a life easier than New York, I've taken the path of least resistance. It's easier to not return a text message or not answer the phone than explain to a person why I didn't want them to call me. In New York, I used to give them fake numbers (and once or twice got called out on it when I ran into the poor fellow again). But now that I'm in California, all alone, with no romantic prospects, part of me thinks I should give people a chance, so I've actually been returning their messages and calls. If they want my number and actually bother to use it, maybe I should get to know them before making a snap judgment. You know, let them prove themselves outside of a noisy bar.
I've often joked that if anyone wanted to take me to dinner, I'll go. Girl's gotta eat, I say.
But after two and a half years of first dates that never lead to second dates, and failed attempts at proving myself a worthy partner to someone who is not suitable for me, I think maybe I need to become a choosier dater. I need to be more judicious when doling out my digits. I need to be more selective with my time.
I don't ever want to be with a person who shows up drunk, corrects my grammar, criticizes my dress, challenges my knowledge, and monopolizes the conversation. I never want to think, "I'd rather be _____________." Even more, I never, ever want to think, "I'd rather be anywhere but here."
Last night, I had such a date. And as I watched him slam two really strong drinks while I sipped two fruity ones of my own for which I knew he would never pay, I couldn't believe I'd lowered myself to actually going out with this person. He grabbed my glass while it was raised it my lips. He snatched my phone out of my hand. He wagged his finger in my face.
My time is precious.
There's so much to do.
I wasted it on him.
I've wasted my time on plenty of others in the past, but I liked them for some reason, and so, at the time, it seemed worth the investment to me. I've always scoffed when people have told me that I'm too picky, and that's why I'm alone. I'm not picky at all. The first guy I ever dated (though he did not become my boyfriend) was a homeless pothead living at the Rescue Mission in Downtown Syracuse.
I'm not picky enough.
I give everyone a chance.
That ends now.
I'm not going to play hard to get. I will be hard to get. My number will be hard to get. My time will be hard to get.
I'm not waiting for someone to take a chance on me. There should be no chance involved.
You either earn it, or you don't.
It either fits, or it doesn't.
Love, or love not.
But do something worthwhile.
Just Say No
The Power of No
The Love I Deserve
Dispatches from My Soft, Naked Core