I love women. I mean, I really love women. Always have. I never “hated girls” even in grade school.
I describe myself as a philogynist. That’s what the word means.
Thing is, I had several external factors that prevented me from developing any real confidence in interacting with them. For example, we moved to Madison in August 1986. I was the new kid, as a junior, at Bob Jones High School.
Now, I have a great deal of affection for my BJHS graduation class. There are a lot of fine folks in it, and I am blessed. I enjoy the relationships I have with them. I was embraced, much more than I deserved. I deeply appreciate that.
But that doesn’t change that junior year is an absolutely brutal year to be the new kid. I didn’t really develop any significant dating life until I went to college.
It’s a funny thing. What ultimately allowed me to have dating success with women was the power of rationalization.
Look, it’s the fear of rejection that is the overwhelming force in the dating dynamic, right? You don’t want to be told no. You don’t want to be told that you don’t measure up. Nearly nothing is more humiliating than being unambiguously rejected by the object of your affection.
So, about early 1990, I figured out that if I could tell myself a story that made sense to explain the rejection, then it was enough. It didn’t matter whether it was likely. It just mattered whether it was plausible. Oh, clearly, she’s intimidated by my intellect. Poor her. It’s not going to work out. Or, my goodness, she’s too enamored by exactly how to behave in polite society. Not my thing. So, not my girl. Etc. See how that works? Tell yourself a story that spares your ego.
I don’t think I’m going to be single again. Lea and I are together, and we are blessed. If I’m ever “dating” again, then I’m likely to be old and reluctant. And who wants to be old and reluctant?
God bless you, my friends. Tell yourself what you need to. It might be the path.
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