Remember when a boy teased you it meant he had a crush on you? Oy. Another sordid singleton tale…
Weltsie has been having a hard time reading a boy of interest, Andy, who also happens to be her coworker (shall we go there a second time this week?). They have some unresolved sexual tension. She’s dealing with playful banter o’ plenty, a few platonic sleepovers, and more physical contact than seems necessary. So what’s the meaning of it all? Can you really rely on the adage of, “He’s just not that into you,” in all cases?
We spent the afternoon discussing the details over coff-ay (I’ve pinched d’s word). To further confuse everything that stands between Weltsie and Andy, they both have a boy and girl on the side. Andy is seeing a girl he’s been pining over for a while. She is just now giving him a chance, but it’s long distance. Weltsie recently attracted a man in uniform. Hello, Sailor! She’s debating which item has more promise—the one with an expiration date (Navy boy ships out in two months), or the one that is a big, nasty box of uncertainty.
I don’t know. I was never very savvy about dating when I was single. My only advice is that boys are simple creatures. They don’t think too much about what they want or if what they want is realistic. If a guy really likes you, he’ll take the risk and make a move. To completely contradict myself, men are also very lazy and like the path of least resistance. Sorry, I wish I could be more helpful!
It’s difficult to make sweeping generalizations about men and women. The problem with theories about dating is they forget that every individual has a complex history. Apparently no matter how old we get, a part of us will always be twelve years old. We carry around baggage we should have dumped ages ago. (I’m too tall, I’m too plain, I’m too shy, I’m too weird.) The same insecurities plague us and we find more spectacular, creative ways to compensate for them. (Will you like me better in these clothes, will you like me better if I say yes, will you like me better if I’m someone other than myself?) We fall into the same traps time and time again—and after each crash landing we promise to learn from our mistakes and not inflict the same wounds on another.
I think the cliché is right—it’s all about timing. Maybe you have to make a happy ending amidst broken hearts and mending scars, for we are all works in progress.