Since My Personality Has Rendered Me Dead To Dating

I lounged at home flipping through one of my old Elle’s magazines looking for fabulosity and flyness and as always had to read Ms. E. Jean’s advice column. I am addicted to comedy come from the often silly, sometimes ridiculous, always entertaining titles and gushings from these people. Apparently my hubris up until that point allowed me to think of myself as just another person finding comfort in other people’s mess until I read the final line in this Ask E. Jean: Picking Up the Dude’s Vibe.

Contrary to the title’s message, this flabbergasted, flustered, femme (FFF as she will be referred to in this brief summary) was shocked into emailing Ms. E. Jean by the discovery of something. Picture scenario:  FFF has boyfriend of 3 months; he moves to a new place; boxes are everywhere when FFF visits said new place; FFF comments on the boxes everywhere; boyfriend laughs (type of laugh not mentioned- but may be of some relevance) and points to the vibrator on the coffee table that belonged to his ex-fiancee; but as boyfriend quickly adds “has been cleaned and sterilized and is still fully operational.” POW. That was the personal Pearl Harbor gem FFF was dealing with.

FFF’s need to talk about it while boyfriend is at work, her question about his feelings, and his eventual Houdini disappearing act prompted FFF to seek some type of post-bomb shelter in Ms. E. Jean. And of course being the direct debutante I’ve come to like E. Jean ends her advice to FFF with:

 “Talking kills your mystery. And when you kill the mystery, the guy does not call back.”

BOOOOMMMM! There went my personal Pearl Harbor gem dropped in my face.

I’m a talker. I’m known for this. It’s like when you think of Anne one of Top 5 thoughts after knowing me is “man that girl can talk,” “damn you talk fast,” or “how did you end up on that topic?” My college roommate used to say that “Anne lives vigorously in the real world” and well to the extent that I am also real with myself – shit I know I talk a lot.

Suddenly E. Jean’s pairing of talk and mystery brought it all home and shed a little light on why my dating – and by dating I mean ACTUAL dating, not just fucking as I believe many blacks have come to use the word (another post- another day I.J.S.) has been DOA.

I also took E. Jean’s talk/mystery combo and combined it with what my friends tell me “Anne, you gotta tone it down” or “You know how you do, just don’t say too much” and got some more insight into the lack thereof of a viable bench of potentials. Truth be told most of my friend’s advisements were met with questions of a wide-eyed girl. Seriously. How does one “tone oneself down” but not look crazy after the volumized you comes out 2 months later? How am I supposed to “not say too much” when guys ask questions and hell, there’s nothing else to do BUT talk on a damn date? How do you reel yourself in? When do you reel yourself in? 

Reading a very prominent personality trait you have as a reason a guy doesn’t call back leads to public therapy by way of this blog post, but really it might have been the CPT working and CPT – Couch Potato Thoughts are real.

When else do you have time to ruminate in the thoughts that almost never occupy more than 10-15% front brain space? Another CPT thought that occurred to me was that I’ve never been good at frontin’ in any way. When I’m tired you can tell, when I’m excited you can tell. This isn’t a “woe is me” self-hate session either. Again, IJS. I don’t get the point of “toning down” and “having some mystery” when it’s no mystery that dudes be dippin! Houdinis are a real situation out here – f’real. For all the games and rules to dating I would sincerely prefer to focus my death sheath of gab on the multitude of places it actually benefits me outside of dating.

For all the mystery I don’t have according to the tumbleweed-ridden barren field that is my singledom, I certainly have had more than one too many free drinks, the clutch-move free club entries, presentations, refunded credits, and other things that have certainly made my gift of gab worth it. I may not say that on a first date – but it’s a big part of who I am and I can live without a shroud of “mystery” surrounding me. I’m sure I’ll be alright – and if I’m not you can find solace in the fact that one day my story could be one of your comedies come from the often silly, sometimes ridiculous, always entertaining titles and gushings from me.