Bird in the Hand, Bird in the Bush

In our younger dating years, we seem to come into a very regular conflict between who we want to date and who is immediately "available" to us. When I say "available", I perhaps should say "interested" instead. In the sagas that are high school and college, we find ourselves put into social situations where the people someone is interested in may not be so obviously interested reciprocally, but then again, another person appears on the sidelines who is certainly interested. It's the age-old "bird in the hand" scenario. Should you go out with the person who you know for sure wants to date you? I mean, who knows what could happen there--you may not have paid much attention at first, but that interest could blossom into a romance if you give it a chance. However, that would certainly force you to give up your pursuit of your desired object (well, most of the time, that's what it means). So, what should you do?

The choice you make in situations like these generally reflects upon how you feel about rejection in a more general way. You'll be more apt to take the sure thing over the gamble if you are in a social environment like high school with a number of well-meaning but often pressure-some peers. Those peers will ultimately see you with someone else--proving someone has an interest in you, which can be a self-esteem boost. However, what they won't see is the possible failure of your exploits to get the other so-and-so to notice you. It's not so much that you raise yourself so high in your peers' estimation when you are "with" someone as how much you may fall if you pursue and it comes to no avail. Inevitably, if you do go after Mr. Bird-in-the-Bush, your interest will be noted by others, and if you fail, well, that will certainly be a blow to your own self-esteem as well as a possible blow to your image in the eyes of the people around you. Hence, in this case, the choice does produce a dilhemna.

As you get older, you hope that this picture abates, and I'd be willing to say that it usually does. Later on, it may become manifest in pressure to marry, for example "because everyone else is." A friend of mine--or maybe an acquaintance is a better description given I had no respect for how she acted or her poor-little-rich-girl nonsense--went to a college (ironically the same one as at least one of her parents) where it was commonplace that students became engaged during their four-year tenure as undergraduates. In fact, it was apparently somewhat "odd" if you were not by year three or four. As you can probably assume, she got engaged to a guy she met there, just like everyone else around her. Thankfully, she either came to her senses or didn't feel like giving up her happy-go-lucky and partially-destructive lifestyle, and the engagement ended within a few months of the wedding. In the case of the college I attended, the chapel on campus proudly announced to incoming students that 70% of alumni married other alumni, and most in their place of worship. Well, I thought this was rather hyperbolic--until I graduated and in each ensuing "alumni class" letter, this guy was marrying this girl, etc. It didn't seem that any of them once thought that perhaps the environment played a part in their decisions, perhaps the fact that "everyone else was doing it", and maybe their sometimes-extreme and overblown displays of love and devotion to their partners wasn't so much a miraculous gift from God that they thought. Granted, I do know at least one couple who were truly a matched pair and met there, and there was nothing superficial about it, but that's one out of that 70% rate.

So, what does this have to do with rejection? It goes back to the bird-in-the-hand argument. Why bother looking, putting yourself, your self-esteem, and your reputation on the line if you don't have to? Well, in the end, suffering your fair share of rejection is healthy. It's about risk taking. You don't learn a thing, or grow an inch, without falling flat on your face and looking like an idiot. There are going to be times when you offer to hand a phone number over to someone who may take it out of courtesy and not call you. There are going to be times you are going to actively pursue someone and that someone may reject you in not-so-courteous ways, too. You're going to have to go home, lick your wounds, hold your head up when you don't want to, listen to ridiculous music like Daniel Powter's "Bad Day" on continuous playback, and maybe even face that person again. However, regardless of how unrealistic it is, it may be better to shoot for the self-reassurance that being rejected, and your learning how to take it, affords. That way, maybe one day, you'll hand your number over to someone, and although you may be eager to see if that person will call you, you know you won't be taking any mental health days if the phone never rings.

In a way, this applies to more than just relationships--putting yourself on the line in life will prompt lots of rejection--I mean, I am sure everyone can relate when it comes to job hunting. And I am also sure that there are those people out there who have perhaps stopped sending out so many applications to the "reach" jobs and/or schools because of the chance that another thin "thank you for applying, but..." envelope will arrive in the mailbox. If you thought that perhaps saying hi and starting a conversation with someone who you weren't sure was remotely interested in you would have combatted that fear, don't you think you would have done it?

The Courtesy of the Non-Single

I've been dreaming rather vividly lately. I am not much of a sound sleeper, so I usually wake up several times during the course of the night--not to the point of being unable to sleep again, but each time I do rouse, I can usually recall bits and pieces of what I had been dreaming. The other night, I dreamt that I was somehow involved in what seemed to be a field trip with a group of children. There were other adults also in supervisory positions, and we took the group from a bus stop to a large building. Apparently, all of the kids needed to shower, and there was only one shower in the building. I thought it was a better idea to take five of them to my house, which must have been somewhere nearby, and allow them to clean up there. However, the other adults wouldn't allow this to happen, and I decided to leave. On the way out the door, I met a young man, about my age. He wasn't remarkable in some unrealistic sense--he didn't look like Pierce Brosnan and he wasn't built like Superman. He was red haired, good looking in an "I could meet you on the way down the street" sort of way. He asked to come with me, and I agreed. We walked back to the bus stop with the intention of taking one back to wherever we came from. As we waited there, I remember his affectionately holding me, like he knew me and knew me well.

Then, I woke up.

Yes, I'm sure you're all thinking "ah, I know where that was leading..." but I'm not much of an erotic dreamer. If I had to classify myself, I am an "erotic realist"--I like depth to people and things, or else, they are just dull to me. To me, it was a sign of something else. I woke up and I missed that--I missed the real closeness that comes with being with someone who actually wants to be there with me.

I've been told, many times, from non-single people "not to worry, you'll find someone." Well, this is about as annoying as someone telling you to "calm down" during a heated fight. It isn't fair play.

This led me to thinking about the annoying things that non-single people do around us single folks. Lots of times, it's the "recently converted" who are the worst perpetrators. The long-termers are a little more sympathetic, but it depends upon how long they have been in the "taken" category. Some have gone so long in the company of someone else that they rarely see life in a state without that element, making it tough to completely relate.

I remember a while ago, I lost a relationship that truly did hurt me very much and at the same time, someone else I regularly was in contact with embarked on a new relationship. Every time we spoke, it had something to do with the new acquisition of a partner. I heard about everything from how they talked to what they did together to even the basis of their sex lives. The timing was very wrong for me, but that didn't seem to matter.
Oh, yes, and don't think that the other individual wasn't aware of what had happened to me. It just didn't register, it didn't matter in the face of the enjoyable newness being experienced. It isn't as if there weren't other people that could have taken my place as a listener on this matter, either. Yes, this is an extreme case, of course. Not all people are inconsiderate and being in a relationship does not immediately translate into that kind of behavior. However, I would encourage the non-single people in the world not to suffer from a completely memory wipe of past events before the rebirth that is your new relationship. It isn't as if we aren't happy for you, too. Those well-wishes will quickly abate on your behalf if you start parading around as if things have always been as comfortable and cozy for you as they became when your partnership started.

Don't help us along, either. Yes, we single people of the world do realize that you only have our best interests at heart. But, there is truly nothing more annoying than you're trying to "give to us", neatly wrapped in a box, a version of what you've managed to find. This usually comes in the form of offers of blind dates, setting people up with friends of friends or with family members. It is no surprise that a surge in this kind of behavior generally can be traced to the beginning of your dating prospects. Suddenly, you're so happy, you want to share that. Good for you. Now stop it. If you remember back into the mists of time that was your "single" life, you'll realize that in most cases, it wasn't the partnered people taking pity on you that got you to where you are. Thank you for trying to share the love. However, we have to find it ourselves just like you did. Give us a chance rather than cramming our schedules full of surprise double dates where you get to cuddle with your new partner and we sit uncomfortably by with someone we've never met and probably wouldn't have made an effort to get to know if we had without your interference.

So, take that with you down your new road. You never know when it may end, landing you right back where you started--with us, on the single side.