Of Unattaining Men

I went to a wedding reception recently, and it made me wonder if I’ll ever actually have one of those of my own. I don’t really date guys very seriously. I’ve never been in a real “relationship.” I’m not really bothered by it because if anything, I have an excess of young men in my life. Believe me, I’m not complaining—but with so many young men around, you would think I’d have a lot more dating under my belt. Frankly, I do not. I mean, I’ve had my share of little flings, but I think people assume I’ve been around a lot more than I have. Apparently I give off that vibe, but that’s a completely different blog just waiting to be written.

It could be that I’m afraid of commitment—well, not so much afraid of commitment as much as I’m afraid of getting too close to someone. Apparently I’m one who loves the chase, the unknown, the does-he-or-doesn’t-he. Either that, or I’m a sucker for self-inflicted heartbreak. Why? I don’t know. You’d think I’d prefer security over insecurity, but I’m not defending or trying to justify myself here. I’m only saying.

Not surprisingly then, I tend to pine for men who are unattainable due to lack of mutual interest, distance, and/or marital status. Since apparently it’s easier for me to go on participating in a one-sided relationship, I get pretty creative when it comes to men.

For example, I’m recently intrigued by someone because of his blog. I’d say it takes a singular kind of person to be attracted to another person because of the way he writes. Nerdy, right? Also, completely ridiculous. Regardless, it has lead me to facebook-stalk him. I always read his blog with every intention to make some kind of dazzling, witty comment, but rarely follow-through because everything I come up with is lame. I’d rather not be lame, so that’s the extent of my relationship with Intriguing Blog Man.

(I have to admit how strange it is for me to write “man” instead of “guy” or “boy.” I should probably explore the possibility that my hesitancy to acknowledge someone’s adulthood would indicate I’m uncomfortable with the idea of an adult relationship. Boys are those you have crushes on, guys are the ones you date but not very seriously, and men are grown up enough for marrying—in other words, the Ultimate Commitment. Being able to call someone a man in all seriousness would also imply that I am a woman, and that is a word I feel awkward using to describe myself.)

I used to work at the Missionary Training Center bookstore. For such a crushy person, you’d think it would be the last place I’d want to work, surrounded by thousands of young men (many of whom are really quite attractive, for the Spirit is a great beautifier. And so is Brazil, because I haven’t met a single unattractive native Brazilian so far). In that sense, it’s actually a pretty safe place for me to work. It provides me endless opportunities to crush on boys (since I can’t date them at all, to say nothing of seriousness, and they are most certainly not men) without the possibility or terror of it developing into anything. I’d be lying if I told you a lot of them don’t flirt with me, but it’s nothing very personal—we’re the only Real Girls they have contact with, and when you’re stuck in that spiritual vacuum for ten weeks, who can blame a guy for wanting to talk to a Real Girl?

A word about flirting. I’m starting to think my natural tendency to flirt is a major factor that leads people to make unfounded assumptions about my dating history. Curiously, I think it’s also my flirting that not only disinterests anyone I might actually pursue for an extended amount of time, but it’s also what makes me become disinterested. It’s all part of that chase thing, where the minute flirting prompts any kind of line crossing, snap! I freeze up, start worrying too much, and that’s the end of that. Don’t get me wrong, I love to flirt, but I think I look forward to the day when there’s just an instant, electrical connection with someone. I’ll probably marry the man who cuts to the chase, kisses the snot out of me, and then says something that would live on in movie history, should they ever make a movie out of us. No more games or interpreting body language, thank you.

I had an evening-long tryst with a guy once as he was getting ready to go on a mission, and therefore unattainable. We didn’t know each other very well then, we don’t know each other any better now, and as I drove home that night, I laughed to myself about my silly behavior. That’ll teach me to NCMO ever again... To my surprise, I also found myself in the metaphorical driver’s seat—he was the weird clingy one who couldn’t really figure out what he wanted, so of course it threw me for a loop. Usually I’m the one who is used and left behind to sort out my conflicting feelings, thereby landing me in the one-sided relationship. This time, I wasn’t at all interested in a relationship; I just wanted was a make-out-ship. Concluding that this wasn’t fair to any parties involved (especially my ear, because boy howdy! did my ear grow a fondness for that guy), I backed off completely, in spite of later invitations to join him in the hot tub. What a test of constitution and will power. Yeesh.

I’ve done the long-distance crush too. I can’t really call it a “relationship” since we never spent that much time together, and then I moved across the country. For better or worse, the crush that began when I was 13-years old continued to burn within me for the next five years as I wrung each letter dry (letter, mind you. Oh, we didn’t fall victim to any of these newfangled conveniences like email or the telephone. That would strip the romance from it, you see!), interpreting every word as proof that we would live the fairytale life someday, and have an incredible How We Met story to boot.

Needless to say, that one didn’t work out. And you know, thank goodness for it. We’re not nearly as alike as I thought we were when I was 13.

Married people are “safe,” too. Now hear me out before you get all shocked and find your underpants all bunched up—I have never pursued a married man. I will never pursue a married man. I would be horrified beyond reason if I ever found myself in a position where a married man might pursue me. Just, no.

That said, married people are not dead, nor are they ugly, unfunny, or disagreeable. In other words, a man’s marital status does not necessarily discourage attraction to them on my part, though it does immediately discourage any inclination to flirt or play any games I might with a similar person who is unmarried. I mean, hello! I have eyes! So I take a step back and appropriately enjoy their charms because I’d rather die than break up a family, and he’s already blissfully married. It’s the epitome of an inappropriate crush, but at least I’m secure in the knowledge that the relationship will only end when I’ve grown tired of it.

There are scores of celebrity would-be suitors, and while a small part of me hopes that someday, one or two of these romantical aspirations might be realized, let’s just be honest with ourselves.

In this vein, I suppose it would be useless for me to go into any detail about the men who are the most utterly unattainable, in that they are celebrities and, inconveniently, dead. This does not prevent me from loving, perhaps irreverently but with every inch of my heart: Gene Kelly, John Keats, W. N. P. Barbellion, Charles Brandon, Christopher Marlowe, Robert Cummings, Montgomery Clift, Buster Keaton, Philip Sidney, or Thomas Middleton. To name a few.

And you know, ultimately I think this is the reason why I might not have a wedding reception of my own someday. I might meet some lovely guy tomorrow, but there will be that looming question: does he write as well as Intriguing Blog Man?