Desperation Meter

According to the chef at the restaurant I waitress at, I'm off the desperation meter. No, not the "off" I initially hoped he meant (as in its such a small reading it doesn't warrant a meter), "off" as in the meter is broken because it couldn't read my excessive rate of desperation.
This was in reference to my asking out a friend of his (which he seemed to encourage btw). The story goes: my awesome chef and I go out to dinner sometimes after work, usually with a co-worker or two. Because he is a chef, he knows great food, and often gets it for free by knowing other restaurant-y type people. One of these being the owner of a great late night food place. We met said owner several times, he is good looking, kind, friendly, and as chef put it, a weird that would work well with me. (Not to mention he owns a boat, spear fishes, and jet skis to Catalina. Yep, my kind of crazy).
Chef tells his friend I dig him, and he says he digs too. Yay! So, I ask chef if I should ask him out. Yes. He even suggests I go grab food there (which I do, on his night off of course). So, Sunday I send him a text, ask him out for drinks. He says yes, then says he'll let me know his schedule the next day. Which he doesn't.
And didn't.
And still hasn't.
Just for the count, this was 5 days ago.
When I see chef again tonight, he asks about it, I tell him what happened. We banter about it throughout my shift, even devising a silly plan to go the restaurant tonight to make things awkward. In the end, we don't go, and chef says the desperation meter thing.
Drat.
He explained that he thought it was balls-y of me to ask the guy out. And how that seemed desperate.
Fuck.
So, I ask guys out. I don't see what the big deal is!? Are we not living in a modern world, and I am a not a material, er... modern girl? I've received this sort of reaction before. People seem to be amazed that a gal actually has the lady balls to ask out a guy. Why is this such a ridiculous notion?

Here is how I see it, and please, let me know your thoughts (especially any male readers I have out there). I am a passionate person (apparently some insert "desperate" where I say passionate). I believe that life is short, we have to take chances, otherwise we won't get anywhere. Basically I really believe in trying, even if it means failing... often. That's how we learn, right? So I take this whole premise into the world of dating. Give it a chance, accept rejection, because we can't always get it right the first time. But apparently, I'm supposed to sit around and wait for some guy to ask me out. Well, experience has taught me that not many have the cajones. And yes, I would like to meet someone who has the guts to take a chance. But in the meantime I'm not going to miss my chances to try and spend more time with a guy I find interesting.

Apparently other people interpret my actions differently. My classmates and I were discussing today when was it too late for a woman to have a child (the answer is menopause). And the only male in the group said that you have to be careful of your biological clock. If its clanging too loudly, it will scare guys off. Is that what I am? An obnoxious clock? Am I the ticking crocodile to the cowardly Captain Hooks of this world?  I would much rather think of myself as Tinkerbell, and I'm just too sassy for any lost boys, or Peter Pans who don't want to grow up.

Perspective

Sorry I've been M.I.A. for a while. Such is the case with being a student in the type of program I am in (vague, I know). That and I spent my winter break working two jobs and going to school. The class I took was an Interpersonal Communication class with an incredible professor. Some of my next few blogs will be pulled from papers I wrote for that class which, ironically, are relevant to this site.

But that's not why I write here today. The Perspective I refer to in the title, is that of my last blog and how the shoe changed foot, er...feet?

Last summer I was dating, a bit, and one of the gentlemen I had the opportunity to spend some quality time with was an artist we will call "Granola". In one of those random chance meetings, Granola was close friends with someone else who had sent me a message on a dating site. This other person lived about 6 hours away from me, and yet wrote to me occasionally, even though we never met. Somehow, a common social networking site we were all on, recommended Granola and I become friends. We did, and then we met up, and then we dated.

Granola was handsome, tall, creative, and very shy. I had had bad experiences with artists types before, so I tended to avoid them at all costs (and actors, though I have enough artists and actor friends now that have become ingratiated to me, I still may not date them). He was not a very social creature, which doesn't always mesh with my personality. But he was very kind, sensitive, and funny.

And, there was no chemistry... for me.

I know that is harsh, but we're putting the shoe on the other foot here. Granola was sweet, but I wasn't ready, or I didn't know what I was doing, or (most likely) I didn't have enough time. Whatever it was, it wasn't meant to be (for me). I sensed that he was more interested in me than I was in him. He once even told me that he would help me learn to love my curves!

Yeah, I'm crazy for not falling for that.

So, here is our perspective. After tears shed over Chicken boy, I soon had to realize that I had been on the other side of the fence as well. I too had some one who really(?) liked me, and I wasn't as interested in them. Now I'm the jerk.

And in the ironic twist, Granola had also sent me a message clarifying that it was over (just like I did with Chicken boy), and letting me know that he enjoyed the time we spent together. (And that he wasn't looking for a relationship either, but I didn't really believe that part).

I recently got back in touch with Granola, had coffee, invited him to an art show. It was great to see him. Maybe we can be friends. Do I really want to be friends with Chicken boy? No, not yet, its too soon and I'm still hurt. (Though he did just recently accept the social networking friend request I sent him from back when we were dating, and I did have a chance to explain to him, when he randomly contacted me to go to the beach, that I was under the impression that he was interested in me, and was honestly surprised that he wasn't. That shut him up.)

From having a chance to review a past fling, and see that I was not always the one being rejected (that's a harsh word, and I'm attempting to strike it from my vocabulary), I have learned to see both sides of the equation, and not get as hurt next time it doesn't work out.

Though I can't promise it will ever make sense to me.