As I’ve mentioned, this year I’ve been mulling over my future tactics, if you will, for whenever I’m ready for an LTR again. So naturally I have to consider all past history. And it hit me at one point—I have the arranged-marriage gene!
It was a true eureka moment. Why had I not realized this before?! My parents had an arranged marriage, as did their ancestors in India before them. I may have been born and raised in the U.S., but by golly, my genes haven’t had time to evolve. It could take generations! Of COURSE I don’t know what I want. After centuries, it’s only natural that my know-my-type-and-what-to-do instincts are a complete mess. My ancestors never had to date around or hunt down their mates, so neither could I! It’s not ME, just ask Darwin!
Then I remembered…my parents actually knew each other for years before they got married. My parents’ siblings all had ‘love-marriages.’ And I have a first cousin who’s having a love-marriage wedding in January.
Ok, so maybe I have to look at more recent history.
To that end, I’ve been making a mental list this year of my Never-Have-I-Evers—tactics I have not tried in the name of finding love (what, were you expecting something kinky?), actions that others might call, um, normal. Like the following:
- I’ve never given out my phone number to anyone who asked. Ever.
- I’ve never followed through on friends’ offers to introduce me to someone they thought would make a good match for me. I didn’t even ask for specifics. I flat out said no thanks.
- I’ve never randomly chatted up a hot stranger, even if he was literally smiling and making eye contact.
I know what you’re thinking: You tried to blame this on evolution??
Hey now. I’ve admitted my past life as a disgusting romantic. The downfall of being a romantic is that we tend to (sometimes unwittingly) reject anything less than the most picturesque and serendipitous scenario. We tend to fall for people we’ve known for years (what Friend Zone?). We seek what is comfortable and idealize the hell out of it.
A lot of good that’s done me. So, I’ve decided, what better way to kick formerly-romantic-me’s starry-eyed idealism in the ass than to seek out ways to undo the list? I will effectively conquer anything that could go on my Never-Have-I-Ever list, if and when the chance arises with person(s) of interest. Anything that makes me quake with unease. New mantra for me and for all you first person singulars out there: Be open to possibilities, especially uncomfortable ones.
So, when Hampton Roads Magazine announced its annual 20 Sensational Singles call, I decided to apply. Put myself out there. Yeah. Why not?
I spent days nervously poring over the Q&A application, feeling hopeful yet panic-stricken the second I hit ‘Send.’
A week later, I got the email. YES! The editors did think I’m sensational! Yay! Woo hoo!
Wait a minute. What feature spread in the October issue listing all my info and answers? What photo shoot? What LIVE AUCTION on September 30?? Sell myself on stage to WHOEVER ends up casting the highest bid? No chance to call on my natural instincts to renege, reject blindly, or run?
Gulp. I’m a Sensational Single. What have I gotten myself into?
Are you comfortable giving out your phone number or being matched up by friends? Am I the ONLY one who’s never done either? (Go ahead, lie. Make me feel better!)
And feel free to make a suggestion for my list. I’m feeling bold, I just might do it!