Dignity

I couple of weeks ago I made reference to an incident in which I asked a girl out in such a way that a friend later told me my actions were a disgrace to men everywhere. It is another one of those stories that doesn't end happily but, in retrospect, I find the whole experience pretty amusing; it's not something that a lie awake thinking about, wishing it had been different.

A few years ago, during my first trip to America - and my first ever solo international trip - I met an English girl and developed a bit of a crush on her. (Is the term 'crush' still in common use or am I way off?). We were both on a working holiday and both working at same place - a summer camp - along with about sixty other teenagers and twenty-somethings from all over the world. By the end of the first day at work, about three other guys had decided they were interested in this particular girl but the two of us seemed to have hit it off so I thought I was in with a chance. As I would learn over the next couple of weeks, I wasn't.

In hindsight, there really wasn't anything very special about this girl. She was attractive, but she really wasn't very nice. It took me a little while to work that out. Initially, she was friendly and flirtatious and gave me the impression that she liked me. We spent a little time getting to know one another and seemed to be becoming friends.

About three nights a week, every member of staff would have to work a night shift. Not much work was actually involved, you were basically just stationed somewhere on the property and had to make sure the kids didn't sneak off. Often, it meant sitting by yourself at one of the activity areas for a few hours while the majority of the other staff were down the road at a bar. A couple of times when this girl was working a night shift and I had the night off I went and kept her company. We'd sit and talk or if she happened to be stationed by the basketball court we'd shoot around a little while we chatted. It wasn't just superficial banter, I told her I could see that behind her confident and carefree persona she was frightened of something. There was just a hint of an underlying unhappiness in her eyes. She began to open up to me about her tendency to be attracted to guys who would only make her unhappy and that it might have something to do with the fact she didn't have a very good relationship with her father; basically, she told me how her whole relationship history was coloured by poor choices. Dropping the facade, she told me how she feared she'd never end up in a healthy relationship. I thought this was a pretty big thing to admit to someone you'd only known for a couple of weeks and, at the very least, it meant she thought of me as a friend. It later became obvious that in her eyes I was somewhat of a nonentity.

I should have realised it much earlier than I did. It was a giveaway that she never really asked me anything, never made an effort to get to know me, never went out of her way to even say hello to me, and not once did she return the favour and keep me company when I had a night shift. If I may put on my analyst hat for a moment (when my analyst realises I took his hat he's going to be pretty upset with me), if the experience taught me nothing else, it made me realise that I'm often attracted to girls who aren't particularly interested in me - it's a mistake I've made on more than one occasion, but that's something I'll write about some other time. With my analyst hat still resting on my ears, I can also make the observation that she felt the need to be desired. I think that's all I was to her, someone who looked at her with adoring eyes. The only time she ever really gave me a strong signal that she was interested in me was one night when I was sitting with some friends and she came over to me, sat on my lap, and started having a conversation with me. This was probably just her way of keeping me interested.

In the end, she actually ended up with none of the guys who were actively pursuing her. The guy she really liked was someone who wasn't particularly interested in her but had no problem hooking up with her at the bar a couple of times, despite the fact that most of the time he treated her like she didn't even exist. Believing her to be more fragile than she let people realise, I felt sorry that she was being treated in such a way. It seemed we at least had something in common: we were both attracted to people who weren't attracted to us.

After about a month, armed with some chocolates (a mistake), I took her aside one night and asked her if there was any chance of a relationship. Her reply was that it was clear I was more attracted to her than she was to me so a relationship wouldn't be on equal terms - it wouldn't be fair on me. This is the part where I sacrificed all my dignity. In pretty much the exact words that follow, I told her that I would probably never find anyone as attracted to me as I was to them and that even if she was only mildly interested in me that would be enough for me. I told her that an unequal relationship was fine by me, moreover, that I even approved of a relationship where she treated me like dirt. Strangely enough, this didn't change her mind. Really, what was I thinking? Who would say something so stupid? But it gets worse. Even though I accepted that she wasn't interested, I'd pretty much described myself as scum, and told her how wonderful I thought she was, she somehow managed to take offense and angrily stormed off as if I'd somehow insulted her. And I followed her, trying in vain to apologise and make her feel better.

For the next week and a half, she completely ignored me (and the letter of apology I'd written her a couple of days after our discussion). I really don't know what possessed me to believe I owed her an apology but, as should be clear by now, I'm not exactly the most level-headed, objective person when I'm attracted to someone. After ten days, I confronted her. I asked her if there was any reason she had been ignoring me. Her response was, 'Maybe you've been ignoring me.' In those five words I saw how immature she really was. It became clear that I had only been seeing what I wanted to see; I had been manipulated, both by her and by my own subconscious, into seeing her as perfect. I think I at least managed to salvage some dignity back because, after that instant realisation, my reply to her was, 'You know that's not true. But okay, enjoy the rest of your summer.' And I didn't speak to her again for the duration of the summer. If nothing else, I am at least proud of the way I ultimately resolved the situation because up to that point, I sure hadn't handled it very well.

As I said, I can look back and laugh at the situation now. She doesn't mean anything to me and, as strong as my feelings may have seemed at the time, I think the whole experience had more to do with my own insecurities and desire to be wanted than it did with her. Incidentally, she contacted me a few months ago and sort of apologised for the whole ordeal. I say 'sort of apologised' because she simply asked how I was going, told me that she was sorry that we'd parted on bad terms and that she felt responsible for that. I had long since moved on and told her that there were no hard feelings. But it was a reminder that, even if I don't realise it, I'm not the same person I was three years ago. And three years from now I'll be different again.