I’ve been so impressed with your Vine advice that I’ve sometimes wished I had a problem just so I could see what you would tell me to do. Now I have that problem. Wishes suck.

I am one of the (few? many?) readers who could relate to every girl who wrote in with complaints of “I’m in my middle twenties, and I’ve never had a serious boyfriend! I’m cute! I’m funny! I’m smart! What’s wrong with this picture?” Like my dateless peers, I have always been considered the nice girl, the friend, the quirky one — never the object of desire. To be honest, I’ve only gone out with three guys. I had a crush on Guy A (freshman year of college). He was flirty, he would call me when his other dates fell through, and he once attempted to put the moves on me when I fell asleep on his couch. When it happened, though, I freaked and just continued to pretend that I was asleep, never opening my eyes and going in for that kiss. I suddenly panicked that maybe I wasn’t quite ready to be more than friends with him.

Around age 21, I worked with Guy B, who was six years older than I (age difference a little scary to me at the time). First date was to go to a play. Avoided the goodbye kiss. Second date was his office Christmas party and then a party at his friend’s house. Manipulated crowded end to evening by inviting a friend over to meet us at my house when he took me home. “No kiss for him!” as the Kiss Nazi would say. He called me a few more times, but I never called him back. I didn’t like him “that way.” Plus I’m a wimp and couldn’t tell him to his face that I didn’t want to go out again.

Senior year of college, fellow student Guy C asked me out, all nervous that I was going to say no. I went to a movie with him and again orchestrated a big get-together of my friends in my dorm room so I wouldn’t be left alone with him at the end of the evening. He managed to wait out everyone so that we were finally alone, but I just gave him a hug. Never heard from him again, which was fine with me. Again, didn’t like him “that way.”

Amazingly, I haven’t even gotten to my main problem yet.

So I made it to my mid-twenties without ever having been kissed. The thing was, the longer I waited, the more nervous I got about it. With each subsequent guy, I was more and more aware of being a twelve-year-old trapped in a much older body. Seriously, I had never even played doctor with a neighborhood boy or anything. Plus I had a recurring romantic notion about how much I reeeaaaaally would be crazy about the first guy I kissed. None of the three gave me butterflies, so I didn’t give them smoochies.

Lately I have been ready to find a kissing booth just to practice on somebody. I mean, I have been yearning for a make-out session like you wouldn’t believe. A girl can go on fantasies for only so long. Suddenly it looks like I may have that opportunity, but there are complications.

Guy D was a colleague I worked with last spring. We didn’t work together after May, but he emailed me a few times, and I responded excitedly. He seemed to be interested in me, but, never one to assume that someone actually likes ME, I showed his emails to friends so they could say, “Duh! You idiot! Yes, he likes you!” We emailed off and on and got more and more complimentary of each other until last week, when he finally spit it out and said that he wanted to go out sometime. We made plans for this past weekend, and all was well. We went to a play and then went to a party, and I enjoyed the conversation all night. We have an enormous amount in common, and what few differences we have just make things interesting. He’s two years older than I am (good age difference), he’s taller than I am (bonus), he’s attractive (although not much of a dresser), and he’s very smart and funny.

SO WHY DON’T I LIKE HIM??

But I’m getting ahead of myself. All night he kept making remarks about how happy he was that I had agreed to go out with him, and he kept thanking me for coming, and he went on and on and on about me so much that I thought, “Is he really that hard up?” Ew. Not like that. You know what I mean. Anyway, I sensed a neediness in him that really started to turn me off. I was getting the “not that way” feeling again. As the end of the evening approached, I thought, “Okay. I’ll give him a nice sweet kiss tonight. After all, it’s only the first date, and I wouldn’t mind getting my first kiss out of the way like that. Forget the the fantasies of a teenager, for once.”

So the end of the night came. He leaned in for the kiss. I puckered for the sweet soft one, and WHAT? Excuse me?! WHAT is your TONGUE doing in my MOUTH?! I went with it and reciprocated as best I could, but I had no emotional attachment to what was happening. Judging by his “mmmmms” (ew!), he must have enjoyed it, but I was just supremely embarrassed. I felt no excitement, no lust, no desire just to mack on a random guy. I made a quick exit after that, but he emailed me the next day about what a great time he had and how he had a grin on his face all the day after.

Now I feel terrible because he obviously has a crunch (tm Javier) on me, and I wish to goodness that I would just fall for him so everything would be great. Instant boyfriend! God. I never manage to like the same guys who like me. It would be very easy for me to keep going out with him and to get some lip exercise done, but is it worth it? Is it possible that I could develop feelings for him? Am I just completely screwed up in the head? My friends and family have played armchair Freud and have diagnosed that either A) I think there must be something wrong with someone who likes me, B) I only like the chase, C) I am too picky, or D) I am a weirdo.

I think that part of the problem is really that I have the dating experience of a twelve-year-old. I also admit that it embarrasses me that he likes me so much, and that anyone could “mmmm” while kissing me. It makes me shudder. I emailed him and told him that I don’t take compliments well and that I get embarrassed when he makes such a fuss over me. I said I would try not to get flustered as easily if he promised to slow down a little. Should I try to work out my neuroses on this guy, though, knowing that he likes me so much? I mean, I can tell he already has the word “GIRLFRIEND” running through his head in a sing-song voice. Plus, I’m scared that he, like any other average guy his age, will be expecting waaaaay more from me (physically) than I am ready to give. He’s bound to be more experienced. And I thought that I was horny enough to shove my tongue down the throat of any willing guy, but that proved to be false when I kissed him. Then again, maybe it was my anxiety working against me. I want to adore him. I want to fall for him. I really really do. Could it happen? Should I give it time? I also in a state of panic that I AM one of those people who only like the chase. I mean, I liked the idea of him and flirting with him until we actually went out. If that’s the case, I’ll never be happy! Yeah, yeah, I’m freaking out here.

Argh! Help! I don’t know if any of this made any sense, but I figured if anyone could straighten me out, it would be you. You speak the truth. Give it to me, sister.

Kissed and Confused

I don’t really know where to start here. There’s so much going on, and it’s almost impossible for me to determine what’s relevant.

I’ll start by saying that the first kiss with tongue is always disconcerting, no matter how attracted you feel to the guy. You’ve seen it in the movies; you’ve processed on an intellectual level the fact that a tongue is going to go into your mouth. But when it happens, it’s weird and uncomfortable. So, your reaction to it isn’t abnormal in and of itself. It takes a little getting used to (and a lot of guys just don’t kiss very well, but it’s hard to gauge that when you’ve never kissed anyone before).

But the real issue here is that you’ve overthought yourself into a corner. You’ve turned making out and sex and sexual attraction and dating into a monolithic tower of perfection, and as a result you second-guess yourself on everything — what the guy wants, what you want, what it’s supposed to be like, on and on and on. It’s become the lost city of gold for you, and until you learn to take a more prosaic view of making out, it’s going to keep disappointing you.

Because it’s not perfect. I love kissing and fooling around and all that good stuff, don’t get me wrong — I’d do it all day if I could, but it’s not perfect every time. Sure, once in a while you get into a zone with a guy and lose all feeling in your extremities, but most of the time, it’s not flawless ecstasy; it’s just really really good, and really really good is good enough. You’ve had too much time to think about it instead of doing it, though, and that’s your problem. You have all these pre-conceived notions of attraction and kissing and whatnot, and whatever happens can’t possibly live up what’s in your head. Look at what you say about the age difference, for example. Everything’s so rigid; you insist on laboratory conditions, and it’s not realistic.

You have to stop loading it all up with so much significance and just take it for what it is. Date the guy a while longer; if he’s not your thing, dump him and find someone else. Try kissing girls if you think that’s the issue. But above all, relax. You’ll figure it out; just stop dissecting everything to death and trying to force your experiences into a pigeonhole.

Dear Sars,

I work in a pretty small office, doing a very mundane job. This gives all employees a huge amount of time to talk, which is often great. But there’s now a situation that’s worrying us all, and we decided to ask you for help.

Our coworker Connie is 32, in a dead-end job, and a relationship with her 21-year-old boyfriend ended in April. It was not a good relationship — she adored him, he treated her like dirt. We told her that he was no good, she should break up with him, he should be exiled to a small island populated by ferocious monkeys. She’d nod, agree, and then completely ignore any advice. A pretty typical pattern and nothing to write The Vine about. But then, just before their one-year anniversary, the boyfriend (let’s be unimaginative and call him “Dick”) suddenly announced that he’s gay. He’d been in a relationship with his flatmate Tony for ten months, and he officially “dumped” Connie. Floods of tears from her were greeted by total derision from Dick, and tempered sympathy from us (all rejoicing was conducted when she wasn’t around). Anyhow, we all thought that would be the end of it. Which was stupid.

In the three months since the “gay now” disclosure, Connie has made Dick her #1 priority. She blathers on about how he needs support, how he’s had such a rough life (he grew up in an area plagued by sectarian violence), and how he’s really a lovely person who never means to hurt her feelings. (I’d like to blame Dick for preying on her, but I get the feeling that she does most of the pursuing in this post-relationship era.) If anything, Dick’s new homosexual status has made her more fiercely protective of him; she claims he’s the only one she trusts, even when reminded that he cheated on her for ten months while he slept with another man. Again, it’s irritating that she’s conducting her life this way, but not much we can do. We hoped it was a phase.

But this has just gotten out of hand. The other day, she said that she’s sending him to the online dating service she uses to approve of her dates. (She has also given him her passwords and login codes for bank accounts, email, et cetera. I don’t know why, and every time we tell her that’s NEVER a good idea, she’ll only respond that she trusts him.) We knew she was dismissing a lot of potential dates because they didn’t compare to Dick in her rose-tinted mind, and were worried about it. And the reason I’m writing you?

She’s decided that she wants to have a baby. As in, “I really want to have a baby…and I thought it would be nice to have one with someone I know, who couldn’t have one on their own…” No points for guessing the identity of mystery dad.

Sars, what the hell do we do? It was one thing when she was moping and pining — you can grow out of that, right? But now she’s talking about bringing a child into the equation. We’ve told her that it’s a bad idea, that it’ll tie Dick to her forever, that Dick will most likely turn any child against Connie, and that he’s a lying, untrustworthy, immature bastard who would sooner use the child as a weapon and a tool than anything else. She insists he’d be a great father, that he’s really kind, et cetera.

Connie seems set on a mission to ruin her life, all in the name of Dick. What the hell can we do?

Thanks,
Fearing The Spawn Of Satan

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Dear Fearing,

“Do”? You can’t do anything. Connie is an adult. She’s a naive, pathologically co-dependent adult, true, and she appears to suffer from a condition we in the advice-giving community call “batshit crazy,” but she’s an adult. Her life is hers to ruin.

You all have already tried to warn her about what awaits her if she keeps going like this — told her she needs to snap out of it, cautioned her against giving Dick access to private info, disapproved aloud of the baby idea. She doesn’t care. That’s that. You’ve done everything you can do, really.

Connie’s a weak person, and none too bright. That’s a shame, for her, and I wouldn’t want to see it inflicted on a child either; I understand that you feel a duty to protect her from herself. But unless you personally deprived her of the sense God gave a ball of lint, it’s not your responsibility at the end of the day. If she’s old enough to vote, she’s old enough to make decisions, even if she makes really stupid ones, so express your concern for her, suggest strongly that she enter counseling, and leave it at that. Interfering any further won’t help anyway.

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Dear Sars,

So after months of reading your sage advice to so many others, I come to hurl my dilemma into the far-off arms of the web as the person with whom I would normally discuss all such situations in sadly the centre of this one. Give me the brutal truth, please.

I have known this girl — let’s call her “Sally” — since the eighth grade when we were seated next to each other by an overly organised mathematics teacher. We hit it off straight away, and within a few months had achieved that hallowed state — “best friends.” And so we have remained for more than a decade, with our friendship surviving crushes on the same boy, whole years apart while one or other of us did overseas exchanges, and even living together for several months (a true test in many cases!). This is not to say it has been all sweetness and light, but somehow the friendship has lasted.

Now, I’ve always felt that I relied more on the friendship than she did. She is incredibly close to her mother and tells her everything, and I didn’t get along with mine for a long time, but I still thought that the friendship was an equal situation.

I had been feeling for a while that there was a lot she wasn’t telling me anymore; this really made me sad, because I saw it as the inevitable beginning of distance in our relationship, but I was prepared to accept a certain degree of this. In February, she moved to another city for her first real job, and everything was okay for a while. Weekly phone calls, heaps of emails, and a few visits home to keep everything ticking over. Not bad at all. But it was during these visits that the cracks really started to get to me.

For example, the first trip she made home, I was really excited and had, on her request, pretty much cleared my weekend so I could spend time with her. We also arranged weeks before the trip that I would take her out to the aeroport on the Monday afternoon, as all her family would be working and I had the afternoon off, and we would therefore be able to spend some time alone together. Great plan. So the fateful weekend arrives, and instead of the trip down to the beach, shopping expedition, and meal that we had planned, I get coffee. Once. With a large group of people. I am understanding at this point. She has lots of friends, lots of people to catch up with. I’m cool. It’s all good. I’ll get to see her on Monday afternoon so we can have a real chat. Great. Until she comes over to me with this “I’m so sorry” look on her face and says that her dad wants to take her out to the aeroport, and that he looked disappointed when she told him that I was doing it, and she thinks she should go with him as this means anyway that she can have the car Monday morning and we should be able to meet up for coffee. Never mind that we had made the arrangement weeks before. Never mind that her parents, very well off, had flown down to visit her twice in the three months she had been gone and it was the first time I, a student and therefore unable to afford such airfares and supposedly her best friend, had seen her. By the time Monday comes, her father has retracted the loan of the car, but not the lift to the aeroport, and so if I wanted to see her for coffee, I could join her and another of our mutual friends in a cafe 30 minutes’ drive from my university when I had a 90-minute break. Needless to say, I declined.

Two weeks later, another visit, another weekend cleared. More disappointments.

Few weeks after that, a week at home for a work conference — one dinner with a group of our mutual friends, which she left early because she wanted to go out drinking with her work buddies — mostly because she was chasing one of them!

Now, in March, I made reservations to fly down and visit her for five days during my holiday, on my way down to stay with my family. I check with her many times to make sure it’s okay that I am only down during the week (airfares are much more expensive on the weekend), and she keeps assuring me that she will be able to flex time off and to just make the booking already. So I do.

The Friday before I was due to leave, she calls to apologise because she has decided she can’t take any time off while I am down; she needs to save her flex time because she is moving back to our hometown for her next work rotation. This really upset me, as she would have known about this in plenty of time to build up flex time to have a least one day to spend with me. Fine. Planned to spend time with our other friend “Cassie” who lives in the same town. All good. Repress.

I think the day I went skiing was the final straw. Since she couldn’t come with me, as we had planned to do, I arranged to do a day trip by myself on the Thursday, and she offered to drop me off and then pick me up in the evening. I made the booking on Tuesday. On Tuesday night, we had dinner with Cassie, and Sally mentioned that she kind of wanted to go on a date with the boy she was chasing on Thursday night. I said that I thought we had planned to have dinner together that night, as I was leaving on Friday, and asked if she couldn’t arrange it for Friday night instead. She made okay noises and I thought that was the end of it, given that she works with the guy and sees him every day and I was only down for a short time. Wednesday night, we go to the movies with Cassie and her boyfriend and I come back from the bathroom to hear Sally saying to Cassie’s boyfriend, “So it’s still cool if you pick her up tomorrow night.” She had arranged behind my back not only to go on the date, but also to have me picked up by someone else, all without discussing it with me. Felt betrayed and disillusioned and generally shit. Managed to verbalise that I was not impressed by the fact she had gone behind my back, but she mumbled something about just trying to sort things out.

Thursday night, I get home from skiing, sore and tired. Cook myself some dinner, watch a bit of TV, and go to bed, Sally still not home. At 11 PM, she arrives noisily with the boy in tow, drags him off to the bedroom, comes back to boil the kettle, and says, “Oh sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.” Then she goes back to the bedroom and proceeds to giggle loudly for the next half hour or so.

Now, given the duration of our friendship, and how close we were for such a long time, I am really sad that it seems to have degenerated to such a state. It has been more than a month since I left, and I haven’t spoken to her since. I am hurting so much and have so many things that I really should talk to her about that I just can’t bear to make the call. But she hasn’t called me either, not even to see how a major job interview I had in the meantime went. It is entirely possible that she is totally absorbed by the boy, but still. So basically, I don’t want to let it go, but I don’t know how to deal with what’s happened and I don’t think I should just let it drop. To complicate matters, we have a very large circle of mutual friends who do a lot of things together, and should our friendship deteriorate beyond repair, I am concerned about being marginalised. Please tell me, what should I do?!

Mourning Friendship

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Dear Mourning,

The problem has two prongs, as I see it. First, Sally doesn’t give you what you need. Second, you expect too much of Sally.

You won’t have the same friendship with Sally that you used to — you can’t. Things change. Circumstances change. People change. It sounds like Sally has deprioritized you (in a pretty inconsiderate fashion to boot), and of course that’s painful, but it also sounds like you expect Sally’s full attention every minute you spend in the same city as each other, and that’s not going to work either. You build up your expectations for spending time with her, and then when she fails to meet them (and she inevitably does), that crushes you. She’s already made it pretty clear that the friendship isn’t as important to her time-wise as it is to her. Again, I know that’s hurtful, but that doesn’t change the facts.

And I don’t know if there’s much point in revisiting the scene of the crime with Sally, frankly. The time for that has passed; the two of you have grown apart, and airing a bunch of grievances isn’t going to reverse that, or make Sally more attentive to you. Acknowledge that she can’t give you what you need from a best friend, and downgrade her accordingly; she sounds selfish and a little weaselly to me, so it’s probably just as well. You can keep in touch with her for the sake of the social group, but keep it more casual than in the past. Don’t plan trips around her; don’t clear any more weekends when she comes to town.

She’s already let you go. Stop holding on.

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Tags:   boys (and girls)   friendships   kids   sex   workplace