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La Douleur Exquise
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La Douleur Exquise.
A beautiful French expression meaning the exquisite pain of loving someone unattainable.
I spent yesterday in a Sex and the City coma, watching the DVDs as I lounged on the couch and prayed to the gods of D&G that I wasn't getting the swine flu currently circling in my social group. As I sat and watched Big jerk Carrie around for what seemed to be the gazillionth time, I started pondering the hell that is dating someone who simply can't commit.
When I was a carefree, purple-haired college student, I went through boys like I did through jars of Manic Panic hair dye. I'll admit it- I was a tad flighty. I wasn't promiscuous, by any means- I didn't stick around long enough to warrant sleeping with someone. Instead, I flittered from guy to guy, always initially claiming butterflies and starry eyes as I slugged back martinis with my girlfriends, only to find myself skittishly losing interest and fleeing after a few weeks. I got to be a sort of professional at finding reasons to dump someone- although I'm currently employed as a server, I definitely got some use out of my creative writing degree as I scrambled for excuses to run. I was, admittedly, a full-fledged commitment phobic.
Luckily, like my penchant for frying my dark brown hair with bleach and cheap neon hair dye, my erratic behavior faded as I graduated and began to face up to so-called real life. However, just because I got my act together and started behaving like a semi-functional semi-adult doesn't mean I haven't continued to encounter the spastic behavior of other commitment phobes. They're out there, lurking in the dim lit clubs and bars of our metropolis, and their issues aren't always as easy to unearth as you'd think.
However, in some situations - if you're savvy enough- you can pinpoint these train wrecks within a few weeks of the dating kick-off. (Thus saving yourself months of uncertainty, salving your feelings with a fine glaze of cake frosting, and getting weepy over romantic comedies because you're so envious of fictional characters with perfect relationships.) The most obvious signs can be picked out on a first date. If you're sipping red wine with a twenty-eight year old who doesn't own a car, house, pet, anything that could possibly tie him down (and scoot him a bit closer to that adjective we tend to hear so often as we get older- you know, ADULT), buyer beware. If a guy over the age of twenty-one doesn't have a checking account, DING DING, alarm bells! I mean, come on- if he can't decide what institution in which to stash his hard-earned cash (under his mattress doesn't count) he probably won't be able to decide if he wants you to stick around for a while. Other red flags are just as obvious- checking out other girls in front of you, filling you in on his wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am dating history, or describing why he's had ten different jobs in the past six months. In this situation, run. Run as fast as you can in your stack-heeled Mary Janes, and don't look back. You'll thank yourself six months down the road when you're not hiding in the bathroom at Red Star Tavern, sobbing to your best friend about the fact that you STILL haven't seen his apartment.
But what if these indicators stay hidden under the hazy wrap of charm, good manners, and awesome cheekbones? You may find yourself in a relationship with a commitment phobic. I know, it seems like a technical impossibility. Why would someone who can't commit to making a car payment want to get seriously involved with a chick? But it happens. At first, it may just seem like the relationship moving a bit differently than you're normally accustomed to. Then, it stalls out. The indicators at this point in time can be as confusing to a girl as Sudoko is to me...I flirted my way through all four years of high school math.
One big slap in the face is if you realize that he's compartmentalizing you. He has his life, and then he has his life with you, and the boundaries absolutely do not overlap. Period. Don't even try to suggest it- it'll irritate him and make you desperate. Ever try to date a guy who won't even tell you exactly what his job is, or what he's studying in school? I did- he laughed in his cute little way every time I asked him a question and as we continued to go on dates, I could feel the wrath building inside of my adorable-cropped-leather-jacketed form. Seriously, I think I found out his last name by surreptitiously sneaking a peek at his license in a bar- that's how determined he was to keep me detached from the facts. He-who-shall-be-referred to as “that a**hole bartender from Urban” wouldn't introduce me to his group of cohorts, much less his family. The final straw was a lovely evening in which he relented to show me off to a few high school friends, but when I nonchalantly took his hand in the parking lot, he dropped it like it was a branding iron. Done-zo.
It's also relatively safe to assume that those gentleman who refuse to make dates with you are hovering around non-committal as well. I'm not talking hemming and hawing over which bar to grace with your presence- I'm talking guys who absolutely leave you hanging until the last possible moment to send you a text and ask you to hang out. Dating these stunning specimens will have you spending many a Saturday night on your couch clad in your hottest outfit, glugging wine out of the bottle, listening to angry chick rock (think Alannis Morrisette circa '94) , and glaring obsessively at your Blackberry. Again, have been there. I ruined a perfectly cute white sweater spilling red wine on it as I lunged for my phone when the text message dinged. Pathetic? Perhaps.
One final indicator that you're committed to a commitment phobe is sneaky behavior, and this is the type of thing that makes me angrier than a girl without a credit card at a sample sale. Cheating. Lying. Dropping off the radar for a few days. Going out with his buddies and omitting all details from the evening, leaving you with “it was cool” to draw assumptions from. GRRR. Like the drug ads from the 90's, just say NO. Underhanded behavior is simply unacceptable in my well-written book, and makes me dump the person dealing it out faster than you can say finito. Why be with someone if you're constantly wondering if they're out getting hopped up and making bad decisions? Boys need boys' nights, just like girls need nights to drink champagne and watch the movies that make boys puke all over themselves. But if boys' nights leave you wondering if a new number got typed into his I-phone, save yourself the ruined eye makeup and dip ASAP.
Seeing as I've rambled on a bit angrily, I've decided to make this a two-parter. Next week, like the Clash song, should you stay or should you go? Until then, love and Chanel.
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