Spitballin’

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Several different ideas have been brewing in my mind for my next blog post, and I feel like I’m at a point where the ideas are swirling in a big mess and I can no longer make a reasonable decision. So I’m just going to kick it old school and just type off the top of my head for this one.

I had a large, carnivorous dinner at Gyu-Kaku catching up with old college friends. Eric told me that he’s basically been stalking my blog ever since it began. It’s really heartening to hear positive feedback about my blog. It’s a little disconcerting to have myself out there in the indelible memory of the Internet, open for anyone who Googles me just a little more diligently. I’ve also pretty much braced myself for my co-workers reading my blog. It’s inescapable but there’s no way I can pretend to be surprised if it is brought up. The one saving grace is how integrated my approach to life is with my work. Data-driven insights to bring about progress? Why stop at marketing campaigns? Weight control? MyPlateFinances? Mint! Exercise? RunKeeper! Dating? An Excel spreadsheet!

Just as an example, I saw my hand therapist today, and we started talking about our dating lives. She said that her freshly-dumped ex-boyfriend had never told her he loved her in the two years they were dating, although he was very attentive otherwise. They clearly have a mismatch in how much words mean to them, and I gave her a little run-down of what the five love languages are. I felt very much in my element talking about it. I guess this is my identity now. The dating geek. I could get with that. I like quantifying the unquantifiable.

My hand therapist told me I should not stress out about dating, and that I should do what young people do – go about, meet people, not get tied down. She doesn’t need to tell me that. I find the whole process of dating so interesting that I often need to remind myself that at the end of the day, I do want a companion to provide mutual support, devote myself to, build a future with, and all those wonderful and meaningful things. But dating is so fun. I recently got chided for enjoying it too much, for not being serious about love. But there are so many interesting personalities to figure out! The excitement of meeting someone new! The ego boost!

My friend gave me a debrief on a date he had went on.

Friend: I am kinda fascinated by her
Friend: she seems boring and wholesome
but I know there must be more to it
I want her to open up her vulnerability to me
me: lol
me: that’s all one can hope for when youre dating a boring person
that there’s some torture inside

I think people are generally unique and fascinating (only if you meet an intelligent and self-aware specimen, though) and I think I suffer from the same allure to the tortured and broken. Dating is like a sanctioned intrusion of privacy. The door to one’s soul has a welcome mat outside of it and you’re invited to knock.

Once upon a time, I went out with a psychiatrist who had said in his profile that he became a psychiatrist due to “events in his upbringing”. I was very intrigued. Did he suffer from sexual abuse? Does he have a mentally ill family member? Was he irresponsibly drugged up for every minor behavioral problem he had as a kid? What is it?! I never got to find out (and the first and last date we went on had this weird quality of being very conversationally titillating but emotionally detached in how starkly we were discussing our inner lives – like psychotherapy) but I am quite positive he’s diagnostically a narcissist.

Anyhow. I have a long day that awaits me. Till the next time!

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The Author

Singaporean in NYC, analyzing relationships with a boozy brownie in hand.

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