Ego Is the Enemy in Dating

Frank told me point-blank on our first date that he “couldn’t offer [me] exclusivity.”

That should have been the end of it right there. I should have finished my drink, thanked him for the latte, and left the cafe without a backward glance.

But, of course, I didn’t.

Instead, I shrugged it off. It was a first date and I wasn’t even sure if I liked the guy. His speech about needing to “date around” after his semi-recent break-up felt very cliche and a little premature.

Relax, we’re just having coffee.

I remained calm and composed, nodding indifferently.

“Okay, good. I just like to be upfront with these things because some girls get offended.”

I rolled my eyes.

Here we go again.

I was about to get a speech about women getting too emotionally attached despite his warning. I’d hear similar sentiments so often I felt like I could give the speech for him.

It did make me curious though, what is the point of dating if you’re going to preface every romantic connection with an “I’m not really looking for anything serious”-type disclaimer?

We’d met at a ticketed 25+ New Year’s Eve single’s event. Surely, that implied “looking for something.”

Becoming complacent

Still, despite the preamble, Frank was charming enough. Good-looking (albeit shorter than me), affectionate, good conversationalist, generally thoughtful, and incredibly complementary.

Seriously, the man wouldn’t stop talking about my appearance. How nice my hair looked, how soft my skin was, how beautiful my body looked in whatever I was wearing.

After a six-month hiatus from dating, I am a little embarrassed to admit that it was nice to spend time with someone who offered plenty of affirmation of my beauty.

That was reason enough to stick around, I rationalized. Not a bad start to “getting back out there.”

Besides, he felt safe.

Not safe like I could be vulnerable around him and he wouldn’t leave, obviously. Just safe like I wouldn’t be heartbroken if — and when — he didn’t choose me. I didn’t think I’d end up liking him enough to care.

…

After the date, Frank walked me to my car, complimented my attempt at parallel parking, and asked when I was free to hang out again. I said something non-commital and drove away not thinking I would ever hear from him again.

Which is why I was a little bemused when he kept texting me and asking to hang out. I’m not sure why, but I obliged.

For the first little while, I insisted he take me on dates to upscale bars in the city and was often surprised when he agreed.

My ego smirked, maybe he did want to date after all?

(Although to be fair, he never said that he didn’t want to date, only that he didn’t want to be exclusive.)

I often stayed over Friday or Saturday nights and every morning as I left I thought (or maybe I hoped?), that I’d never hear from him again. Not because he treated me poorly, but because it felt confusing and a bit pointless to continue.

It was like going through the motions of “getting to know someone” without actually getting any closer. Time invested without any progress towards some eventual union.

Still, without fail, he’d text me on Tuesday or Wednesday and ask how my week was going. Then, he’d follow up on Thursday confirming plans for the weekend.

I’d think about telling him I was busy or that I’d met someone else, but what was the point of lying?

His consistency felt comforting, even if it wasn’t going anywhere.

I listened to my other single friends wax on about how awful their dating experiences were and thought (a bit smugly) that I wasn’t doing half bad.

Here is a man who tells me I’m beautiful every fucking time we’re in the same room and actively expresses the desire to see me. He makes reservations and pays for dates. He even scopes out parking and offers to pick me up.

Shouldn’t I be counting my blessings?

The problem with ‘not bad’

This evolving “situationship” was my region-beta paradox.

Not bad enough to break things off, but certainly not the fulfilling relationship I’d hoped for.

I was supposed to be holding out for something better. An epic love story, no less.

Two months in and I was already annoyed. His doting started to feel as grating as my morning alarm clocks. I felt like snapping, “Yes, and?” whenever he commented on my appearance, “Isn’t there more you want to know about me?”

There was not. What Frank saw was a shiny exterior and pleasant company and that was really all he wanted from me. I became increasingly bitter and a little bruised by his instance of keeping things surface-level.

I wanted emotional intimacy, God damn it — not a shallow attraction.

That was never going to happen. He’d told me so from day one with his little monologue about not getting attached. There was no deeper connection here. We were just two people on separate journeys, trying to figure out what would make us happy while ignoring the obvious. This was just a filler episode in an otherwise exciting life.

…

Years ago, my ego would have made me stick around to see if I could convince him I was worthy of more than a subplot. I would have taken every breadcrumb he gave me and tried to convince myself that I was slowly winning him over, regardless of my true feelings.

Next time, he’ll offer me something more substantial and one day, he’ll fall for me.

Now, I’m not so foolish.

Men don’t think like that and they certainly don’t make speeches like that to the woman of their dreams.

What’s more, the man of my dreams doesn’t make speeches like that. He is also looking for a partnership. He doesn’t try to take as much as he can get for as little investment as possible. He is interested in cultivating both intimacy and excitement.

In conclusion

I can’t walk away from this bitterly and label Frank as a “time waster.” He was upfront from the start. I chose to entertain something I knew wasn’t for me. I chose comfort and safety, but not the right kinds. I let ego guide my choices, rather than honesty.

At the end of the day, it’s our responsibility to stay the course.

We’re too self-aware to keep entertaining mediocrity.

—

This post was previously published on medium.com.

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From The Good Men Project on Medium

What Does Being in Love and Loving Someone Really Mean?

My 9-Year-Old Accidentally Explained Why His Mom Divorced Me

The One Thing Men Want More Than Sex

The Internal Struggle Men Battle in Silence

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