After a while, the math problem no longer makes sense. The numbers blur and it seems unsolvable. At which point, the options seem limited to: push through, wait it out, or walk away. This is how I feel about dating. I can never figure out, much less replicate, why some things worked and others didn’t. It feels like there should be a very standard, easy to replicate formula. There isn’t. Despite knowing there’s no formula, despite knowing that the best one can do is place oneself in the vicinity of where joy might be found, my brain wants to solve the math problem.
Last week, I met up with someone. The conversation was easy enough and flowing. She was cute and sincere and interesting. There felt like there might have been room for a connection… and yet, the next day I found myself thinking, “I’m not picking up the vibe that she’s overly interested.” I had sent a flattering follow-up text (or so I thought) and got a thank you type of response. Reciprocity seems important in the earliest stages of getting to know someone – I think they call it flirting. My read on it could be wrong. It wouldn’t be the first time.
Admittedly, unless the other person is extremely overt, I’m not very good at picking up vibes. Most of my “successful” forays in the dating world (all but one) began with first dates that ended with a “hell yes, when can we see each other again” feeling. In those instances, there was a mutual enthusiasm and urgency to continue the getting to know each other process. There was a spark that went beyond – they seem cool, I’d hang out with them again. A spark that marked the difference between passive and active interest. It probably doesn’t help that I’ve gotten so used to talking with strangers that I think almost everyone is cool enough to hang out with again, or that I might have gotten so used to finding people interesting that I can no longer delineate between “sure, why not” and “absofreakinlutely.” But every time that I meet up with someone and we don’t strike that “hell yes” chord, I begin to wonder why. Did we not make enough eye contact? Did we skip some pre-requisite course in the pre-meeting text conversation? Was there insufficient follow-up? Insufficient alcohol? Too much alcohol? Insufficient sharing? Too much sharing? Additionally, there are several studies that point to small environmental things like temperature and amount of natural light that influence how we feel about other people.
Every meeting that isn’t a hell yes sends me back to the few times when it was a hell yes to examine what was different. Admittedly, given that I’m single and half-ass dating, I don’t know if those prior instances of mutual urgency were good or a bad ways to start. If the measure of success is forever, no one approach has been successful. But at the very least, the hell yes starts seemed to be the spark that distinguished meh and not meh… the spark that continued the conversation and led to meeting up again. Longevity would be nice, but for now, I think I need a “hell yes” moment as a reminder of what that looks like.
What I’m trying to figure out, more than anything, is if this is a me thing, a them thing, or just a mutual energy thing. I’m also trying to get a sense of whether or not the rules of engagement are just different out here. I don’t think there are any answers and I’m sure the best approach is to not worry about “figuring it out” – to accept things as they are. You connect or you don’t. No need to think beyond that. No need to analyze. Move on to the next…. But knowing that some connections take a little longer, it seems like it’s worth trying to figure out. And knowing that I’m in a different geography where people tend to be a bit more independent, laid back, and maybe a bit more flaky (at least that’s how last week’s date described Californians), I’m trying figure out how much effort to exude.
This is what we (and all animals) do. We examine our return on investment. We look for patterns. We try to maximize our success ratios. We try to make sense of the world around us and within us. I’m in a place (mentally/emotionally) where I have enough other things going on that I’m ok with not putting in much effort. My tendency to believe that we get back what we put out would suggest it’s a me thing – that I’m not putting out the type of energy that generates sustained interest. I’m willing to accept that, though I’m not sure I can do much to change it. I also have this sense that it could be the other way around. It could be that I’m not receiving enough enthusiasm to make me want to reciprocate. I’ve had quite a few text conversations where there’s just no momentum. Days pass and there might be an occasional “hey, how’s it going?” I’ve met a few people in person where we both seem to be ok with the quiet and mutual disappearing.
Of course, those approaches don’t seem like recipes for success. And ultimately, I guess I’d like success – otherwise, why bother? I’m going to leave that sentence there because its nonchalance in the use of the phrase “I guess” is a position of self-deceit (or resignation). Being a bit more bold and honest… what I’d really like to experience is magic. It’s the moment of awe one gets when traveling and coming across something beautiful and unexpected. There’s no equivocation in those moments.
I’ve met a handful of people where the meeting felt magical and effortless. The math problem didn’t seem like a problem at all. I knew the answer. It was sitting across from me whispering, “hell yes.”