Tuesday, September 3, 2013

Entry #73 - Exit Surveys & Participation Ribbons

(If you didn't catch Entry #72, this one might be a tad confusing)

Dear Diary,

Well, bitches, The Unicorn is gone, so we're back to me taking pictures of myself in bed with Augustus, my flamboyant MaineCoon-Cross. Oh. Happy. Day.


I predicted it. It was far too good to be true and it had to come to an end.

We saw it coming, like a freight train down the track. We braced for impact.

It still kinda sucked.

Sometimes, in this life, you just want someone to prove you wrong.

That being said, I can't bring myself to regret it. Not even a little bit. This adventure fundamentally changed my perception of myself and what I am capable of. Apparently I had been limiting myself to the cupboard under the stairs, not knowing that I had an invitation from Hogwarts in the mail.

The universe briefly gifted me with a Unicorn, and that experience will be vividly emblazoned in my mind for as long as my synapses are firing, and perhaps even beyond. I will probably be that inappropriate little old lady at the nursing home; I won't know where I am or who I am, nor will I recognize my great-great nieces and nephews, but I will still be talking about "that time I slayed a unicorn".

"Did I tell you about that time I slayed a unicorn, Ava ?"
"It's Eva, Auntie Hannah, and yes, just this morning you told that story, remember?"
"Like one of those marble statues of Adonis, he was...you should have seen his - "
"OKAY! - time for lunch!"

The Dangers of Cautious Optimism

At the moment of our initial meeting when he unintentionally slighted me, my expectation of The Unicorn had been low to the point of non-existent. I actually believed myself to be invisible to him - no joke. If that doesn't equal zero expectation then I don't know what does.

Then, slowly but surely, he unknowingly raised the bar...

It looked something like this:

The long list of scandalous falsehoods I subscribed to in an effort to remain gloriously pessimistic and hope-free:

  • He's ridiculously strapping and handsome, therefor he is probably an arrogant jerk. FALSE
  • He can't be smart, funny, and kind as well. SurelyFALSE
  • He cannot be interested in you in that way. FALSE
  • A man like that will not take you anywhere with him. FALSE
  • He did not just invite you to eat waffles with him. FALSE
  • "Bitch, you are hallucinating..." (internal monologue after he removed his shirt). FALSE
  • The, um, hugs, probably won't be that good. FALSE
  • He's probably a really selfish hugger. FALSE SCANDALOUSLY SO
  • After he hugs you, he is for sure going to unceremoniously kick you out/call you a cab. FALSE 
  • He did not just offer you breakfast. FALSE
  • Okay, NOW he's going to kick you out. FALSE
  • So he's driving you home...but that's where it ends. FALSE
  • He's just asking for your number to be nice. FALSE
  • He will NOT text you, and if he does it will be three weeks from now at 12:37am. FALSE
  • Just because he texted you in a very timely manner does not mean he will ask you on a real date. FALSE  
So, as you can see, that Unicorn was making it more and more difficult to be the fully pessimistic fatalist I so longed to be. I had expected nothing, I had expected the worst (repeatedly), and he had surprised me every single time. I can only imagine some of the expressions that he must have seen cross my face - wary, skeptical, surprised  and quite frequently, incredulous.
We went on 1/2 of a date (hard to explain), then on a real date - and to be honest it was one of the nicest dates I've ever been on.  When it was over, I would say that rather than being a pessimistic fatalist, I had metamophosized into a very cautious optimist. This feeling in itself should have been a glaring red flag - like any moment in Jurassic Park when you are lulled into a false sense of security and allow yourself to believe that someone has outrun/outsmarted a dinosaur. Apparently my Unicorn was actually a Unicorn-Velociraptor hybrid; he raised the bar just high enough so that I could trip over it ignominiously. "Clever Boy".

and then, in accordance with the prophecy

Rather than asking me out on another date, as my cautious optimism had allowed me to believe was possible,
               he just...
                     ...disappeared into the mist...
                                        ...after making my bed...?
                                                    as Unicorns are wont to do.

He didn't really disappear per se, but something changed. I could read between the lines, so I bowed out gracefully to save him from having to spell it out for me. When given the opportunity for a dignified exit: take it.

I will solve the puzzle, Vanna, because this s*it is excruciating.

"...well f*ck..."
Honestly, I was pretty indignant at first.  I had made every effort to follow his lead...and I still got screwed. Pun intended. On every level. I felt like he'd convinced me to come to the dance, only to leave me standing alone by the punch bowl for the entire duration of "November Rain". I couldn't help but wonder: why did he even bother? It was frustrating because I had not expected or even solicited an invitation. I had expected to stay home alone and watch Pride and Prejudice for the 187th time.

"Analyzing everything (that ain't worth thinkin' 'bout)"


disconcertion; confusion; embarrassment.
frustration of hopes or plans.
Archaic. defeat in battle; rout.

If you really want to experience some top notch discomfiture, I highly recommend believing wholeheartedly that a date went really well and then allowing yourself a number of days to slowly come to the realization that, in fact, only one person had a good time on that date -  that one person being you. Allow the shame of that realization to really wash over you. Then, after feeling good and mortified that you misread the situation so colossally, give yourself a thorough mind f*cking in a vain attempt to deduce what particular thing - or cluster of things - you said or did that was/were problematic.

  • Question your decor - especially the floral
  • Question your choice of outfit and movie
  • Question whether you should have bought soda water
  • Question your jokes
  • Then question if your jokes were obviously jokes 
  • Just question everything you said 
  • Question your cat's stupid haircut 
  • Question how much you love that cat AND his stupid haircut 
  • Question your decorative hand-towels
  • Even question the type of soap in your shower (for good measure)

Just question it all.

Playing the hamartia card; desperation at its finest

After I accepted that The Unicorn had indeed disappeared, I said to Vanessa:
"In his defence, he had no idea what he was dealing with", 
and I don't mean that in the sense that I am secretly the daughter of a violent mobster who will break his legs for this show of disrespect *cough*Ashley Husband-Finder*cough*. I mean it in the sense that he actually had no idea what he was dealing with in terms of my history, or where I was coming from. As far as he was concerned, I could be a serial dater who would think nothing of it and just walk it off. There was no way for him to know just how far beyond my comfort zone I had extended myself, how far outside my usual pattern of behaviour I had acted, and how personally I would take his unexplained loss of interest in me. He did not have the benefit of knowing that I was born too sensitive for this world.
It was this line of thinking that made me realize that I had no idea where HE was coming from either. Maybe I needed to give The Unicorn some credit. God knows that I haven't made it this far unscathed, so perhaps he deserves the benefit of the doubt. I have some scars, so it's only fair to assume that he might be dealing with some stuff as well, and that this is all he had to offer me at this time.
 Because I like to believe that he could not possibly be as delightful as he seemed(as that would be extremely depressing), I have also made a long list of possible hamartia that he could be afflicted by; I am partial to the ones that explain his disinterest in me AND make it easier to run into him in public, such as "an inexorable love of women who wear a lot of leopard print".

It's possible...

A girl can hope.

 "I"m sorry...I just really love women who wear A LOT of leopard print"

Exit Surveys and Participation Ribbons

After replaying the game-tape over and over in my mind, I still cannot put my finger on exactly what scared away The Unicorn. Sometimes I wish I could have given him an exit survey and a participation ribbon, to have used this as an "opportunity for growth". Most of the time though, I'm relived to not know which of my many inappropriate jokes or sexual ineptitudes resulted in my dismissal; after all, this makes it MUCH easier to blame everything on an unknown outside force, and allows me to remember him fondling.
Remember him FONDLY...

The sad truth is I was just being myself (albeit an ever so slightly skittish version of myself), and while it stings to think he didn't see value in that, there's no sense in regretting or being apologetic about who you are*; unless, of course, you really love futility. In that case I suggest you spend time trying to convince someone you are worth their time or effort, maybe some time trying to change somebody, or perhaps you should just get back together with the person who made you miserable last time. If you're feeling like you really require a truly futile endeavour, I suggest combining ALL THREE. That might be on the same level of futility as resisting assimilation into the Borg collective. Good luck with that. I'll be over here...watching from behind the safety of this big rock.

In the end, my litmus test is always this:
  • Did I treat him with the same kindness, respect, and courtesy that I would want my brother, Adam, to be treated with by the women he dates? CHECK
  • Did I expect that same treatment for myself? Did I stand up for myself in a respectful manner if I didn't get it? CHECK

If I can answer "yes" to these questions, then I am content to carry on without regret.

Now, to begin the search for a man who can...follow a Unicorn...?

Well, f*ck.

Nowhere to go but down, bitches. Nowhere to go but down.

One of the best humans I know: my little brother, Adam.
 Treat him right, bitches, or I will shank you.


Bruno Mars references have graced the last couple blog entries, because that sexy man is singing my life these days. Clearly "Treasure" is off the table, so I will sign out with my favourite performance of the song that is a tribute to unicorns and miracles, "Locked out of Heaven":

(3:38 - you're welcome)

*You should probably be apologetic about who you are if you are a notoriously insufferable douche-bag. In that case you should probably work on that.

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