First off, I have a confession to make. I lied. I am a liar.
Although completely accurate, this little factoid is at times hard to stomach. Then again, at times it also feels completely justifiable. Perhaps I shall give a for instance.
Thursday night, leaving work, on my way to a first date meeting with computer Marc. I descend from my cell-free existence in the land of Beverly. As I come down the hill I am bombarded with 6 new text messages and a couple new voicemails. Hot Damn I feel loved! Now, according to my solemn word I am to call Marky Mark on my way back to the westside so we can rendezvous at a lovely location and bring to life the magic we have concocted via email. Yipeeee! Well actually a little less than yipee………..ever since we had our first phone conversation and I hung up asking myself, “is this guy depressed?” So with that bit of information in my back pocket and my women’s spidey sense tingling, I checked my messages first. All of my messages. (Oh and I might add that this is after lingering for an extra 15 minutes at work. If I have someone to meet at night, I usually make haste in an efficient manner. My vagina’s lack of fervent longing should have been a sheer giveaway.) So I text my gay boyfriend back, send some other texts, la di dah. Then call my roomie Marina back who is desperately trying to reach me. A little confused by her overzealous attempts because her original text wondered, “movie night?” This girl must have sniped down my Netflix envelope, saw I had Crazy Stupid Love waiting and has been jonesing for Ryan Gosling all evening. Ok, I get it, I get it!
How pleasantly surprised I was to find that I was wrong. My dear Marina was waiting for me on Abbott Kinney with our fabulous friend Erik. Now know this, Erik is a big deal (per Erik fyi). You always feel super special around Erik because he is only interested in the best of the best. We adore Erik. We are just not quite sure why he likes us. So there they wait for me at the opening night of a hot new restaurant, window table seat, so fabulous. So sorry Ryan Gosling, we won’t be seeing you tonight. But oh shit! What about depressed Marc? Well, if Ryan got the boot, I think the choice is obvious.
I am not proud of this. I called up the boy and I faked a horrid stomach ache. Said I was heading home to crawl into bed and into the fetal position. I can’t stand hearing disappointment in other people’s voices. I dislike even more seeing it on their faces. But I dished out the disappointment anyway. Ultimately I was choosing what was in my pleasure over what I felt I “should” do. Selfish? Yes! But also intuitional I would come to find out.
Of course my instincts made the right decision. They always do! The Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing dining experience proved to be a little slice of divinity. Not merely because of the fancy peasant fare and the trendy location, but most notably the ever-enjoyable company. Marina, Erik and I launched into topics abound, but with me in the room the conversation will most likely veer down the path of psychology, people, men, women, relationships, pleasure, and of course dating!
I made sure my friends were aware of how supremely special they are, and of the mammoth sacrifice I was making in being with them this fine evening (wink).
“Why didn’t you invite him to join us tonight?” Erik asked.
At first a laughable notion, he must be joking. He was not, Erik does not joke. The thought sunk in, “Why is it that this option never even dared to enter my consciousness?” There is noooooo way I would have invited him. A date? Meet my friends? Pangs of baby terror. This scared the shit out of me! Why?
The next day, still pondering this fear that arose, I mulled over my bullshit excuses. “He would have been uncomfortable.” “I would have had to give most of my attention to him.” Blah, blah, blah. And guess what? They were all bullshit! The nitty gritty reality of it all is that I feared judgment……from my friends! Now aren’t they supposed to be the ones that love me the most and judge me the least? They are and they do! I have been the constantly single susan from the beginning of time and role changes throw me for a loop. Also, I think I am putting too much pressure on myself to find Mr. Fantastic. My friends are so sweet and supportive. We have been daydreaming for years about “the sublime man who will land Briana.” He will be this……..and he will be so that……..and wonderful and charming, and funny and, and, and……. Which is totally true!……but what if he is not? I constantly fear not living up to other’s expectations of me, of seeing that disappointed face. But what if the thing I am really trying to avoid is MY disappointed face? Settling, selling myself short, being blinded by love…….these are all phobias that keep me on the safe side of the tracks on the train to intimacy.
But guess what I forgot that I have? My conductor extraordinaire! My divinely brilliant and goddessy, all-knowing intuition. She knows what’s up without fail. She knew Mr. Marc was not the one. She gives me information all of the time. She is the one I tune into when deciding between pleasure and obligation. This dating adventure has nothing to do with learning to trust men. It has everything to do with trusting myself. Full faith in this luscious gift gives me the right answer every time. When I do this, I don’t need to lie. I simply speak my truth with conviction because I am aligned.
Proclamation #4: Total, loving honesty with these men…….and myself!
And as fate would have it, I had a date the next night with the spicy guy. The plan was to meet him at the SkiDazzle trade show downtown that my girl Chelsea was running like a boss. Nothing like recognizing a fear and then choosing to immediately crush it into tiny snowflakes. We had a blast……perhaps because he is the one that posed the “what are you looking for?” conversation on date #1. We launched into total, loving honesty from the start. And get this! halfway through the night, Chelsea leans over to me and whispers, ” I approve.” I told you my friend’s aren’t ass-holes.