I got really depressed after writing yesterday’s entry. Since it was Saturday, I allowed myself to sleep in. I woke up early because my body clock is used to waking up early, but since I knew I could sleep in, I did. It was during this time that I had a dream about her. After I realized how much work I need to do to improve my dating game, I yearned for simpler times, when I seemingly had this figured out. So I dreamt about her. Thankfully, it wasn’t a good dream. She was sitting down on a table, her head bent down and concentrating on something. A book? A sketch? I sat on a bench farther away from her, and I saw her. I recognized her hair, and I couldn’t help but stare. I looked away, and when I looked back, she was gone. It was around this time when I realized that I was dreaming, and I didn’t like this feeling of longing, so I tried to keep happy. She sat down next to me, her tell-tale smile breaking my heart because I missed it so much. She laughed and put her head on my shoulder, and then I woke up.
I don’t think this dream was supposed to be about her. I’m not going to get back in contact with her; I see no possible way this will end well. I’ve been racking my brain for the past few weeks — month? — trying to come up with the right angle to write to her, to see if there is something I can say to make things right between us, but I couldn’t find it. As a writer whose only tool are words, I couldn’t find the right and best words to write to her to make things right. That should tell me that I’ve outgrown her. I miss the idea of her, and the feeling she gave me, but I don’t miss her. And now I have to get out there and meet someone new.
As someone who is trying to live as clean a life as possible, I fear that I may be too boring for most girls out there. I don’t drink anymore, and I have a strict diet that I don’t want to deviate from, and I like writing. Writer’s, by definition, are solitary individuals. My routines are limiting my free time to really concentrate and spend with women, and I just realized I’m giving myself excuses not to do this. I hate dating. I hate it hate it hate it. But I have to. I have to.1
Another issue preventing me from improving this area of my life is my fear of being shallow. I have a type2, and for the most part, I have not been attracted to many girls I encounter in my day-to-day life. I don’t want to ask just any girl out because I can. I need to be attracted to them, and if I’m not? Then I don’t want to talk to them. That doesn’t mean that if I am attracted to someone I go and talk to them. I don’t, and that’s the damn problem. And I usually see these girls when I’m not looking for them. They just appear out of nowhere and I’m caught totally off-guard. That’s actually something I can work on and improve.
I’ve been afraid that I need to go out there looking for them, and that thought has been giving me a lot of anxiety. Should I go to a bar? A club somewhere? Should I join some sort of activity like cooking class?3 Instead, I should just go about my life, and I see someone I find attractive, I should go talk to them, and that’s the part I want to work on. Finding the confidence to approach a cute girl. Because that’s the best way I can think of to find someone in a very sparsely populated area. At least I think so.
God, if you guys don’t think I’m an idiot yet, then you do now.