Single in the suburbs, part 62
By Sara Susannah Katz Our columnist is getting ready for date #2 with her hot new guy, Chris. But she can’t help but feel that he’s not as excited about this get-together as she is…Here’s how things unfold.To read the entire series of articles from the beginning, click here.
Saturday, 9:45 a.m.
Despite the weatherman’s optimistic predictions, it is raining today. Quite honestly, I don’t like bluegrass enough to sit on a soggy picnic blanket under a dripping umbrella. I wonder if Chris feels the same way. I hesitate to suggest we find other plans; I’m afraid he’ll change his mind about seeing me.
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A phrase pops into my head: Act as if. It’s something my therapist says. Even if you don’t feel it, act it. Act as if you’re brave, confident, assertive, invincible. Act as if you’re valuable and desirable. Act as if Chris would be lucky to date you.
Saturday, 10:15 a.m.
Girded by her advice, I begin to compose an email, then realize that I want to catch him before he leaves his house and what if he doesn’t check his email? So I hold my breath and call him on his cell phone. He answers: “This is Chris.”
“Hi Chris, it’s Sara.” I can almost hear my heart hammering against my ribs.
“Yes. Hi.”
Some people should never talk on the phone. Chris is one of them. He sounds sullen.
“Is it raining in your neck of the woods?” I hear myself and I think I sound old and folksy. Neck of the woods? Am I suddenly Wilford Brimley? Good grief. What is happening to me? Why is it so hard to feel natural with this guy?
“It’s drizzling.”
“Here too.” Pause. Thinking of the right words. “Any thoughts about finding something else that’s fun to do?”
“Oh. You mean because of the rain?”
“Yeah.” Say what you want, Sara. “I want to do something, you know… dry.”
I think I hear a chuckle. “Yeah. Me too. I like bluegrass but I don’t like it that much.” I’m relieved. Then he suggests dinner and a movie. We agree to meet downtown at the new Greek restaurant. I’m not entirely sure why he wouldn’t want to pick me up at my house, like most people do when they’re dating (I think). I decide not to obsess about this.
Last week my therapist wanted to know why I’m so attracted to someone who doesn’t seem especially attracted to me.
Honestly, I don’t know. Even when I was a boy-crazy teenager, I had little interest in guys who weren’t already interested in me. A memory floats to the surface. Seventh-grade photography class. I loved my teacher, Mrs. Mozner. I thought she was so passionate and such a great teacher. She reminded me of that woman in the margarine commercial (“It’s not nice to fool Mother Nature”). Then one day as we were shuffling out of class, I happened to mention to my friend Lisa that I loved Mrs. Mozner, to which Lisa replied, “That’s weird since she doesn’t seem to like you very much.”
Lisa was right. Mrs. Mozner ignored me when I raised my hand to answer a question, never praised my work, didn’t hang any of my photos on the bulletin board outside the classroom and, in fact, usually responded curtly whenever I asked a question. The idea that I could like someone who obviously doesn’t like me made me feel sad and a little disoriented. It didn’t seem fair.
I can’t think of a logical reason why I’m so attracted to Chris.
“How about pheromones?”
My therapist tilts her head and considers the idea. She’s willing to allow for the possibility that my biology might be driving my desire, but she reminds me that unlike birds and bees, we can choose our mates based on compatibility, not chemical reactions.
As my daughter would say: Whatever. I didn’t say it. But I was thinking it.
I wonder if I can go into this date feeling any less at the mercy of Chris’ pheromones.
Sara Susannah Katz is a writer in the Midwest. Her novel, Wife Living Dangerously, is now available. Click here to read the previous installment or here to read the next installment.