Day 2: Romance.

And now for my relationship history. Or lack thereof.

Some basics first. My orientation? Prepare for liberal citation of Wikipedia (just so anyone who may not be familiar can get an idea of what I'm talking about). I consider myself "heteroflexible." In terms of the Kinsey Scale, I'm a 1. I would never claim to be exclusively heterosexual; I think we fall in love with people and not bodies. I may be more Pansexual, but when it comes to attraction, I definitely prefer Cisgender males. This doesn't mean, however, that I couldn't or wouldn't imagine myself being in a romantic relationship with someone who identifies differently. I've been attracted to women before, and I would have absolutely no issue being with a Transgender or Genderqueer individual.

Now, here's the wrench: I also consider myself to be Asexual. I don't have sex. I don't do much of anything else, either, but that's the most important part of it. Getting deeper into this is more appropriate for a separate entry (which will happen). But yes, I do realize this is uncommon. And I'm not saying it'll never happen. I'm just saying that this is what suits me best at this moment in time. I'm actually very sex-positive; I know it can be a wonderful thing. And, well...it should be a wonderful thing. I don't think it's "gross" or "weird." It's somewhat akin to my distaste for asparagus. I don't want to eat it, so I don't. I don't want to have sex, so I don't. Easy enough.

So as I've covered, I've never been in a relationship. I've been in a couple fake ones, mostly with women. But no declared, confirmed, real relationships. I don't do a whole lot of dating. I find the majority of people in general rather unlikeable at first exposure. For every ten people who introduce themselves to me, I will find something instantly wrong with 8 of them, then I'll find something wrong with an additional person a little later. I only find 10% of the people I meet acceptable to continue interaction. It's harsh, I know. So obviously I admit to being very picky about with whom I spend my time, in whatever capacity. And this very clearly impacts my attempts to be in a relationship.

I'm not even sure I had my first crush until I was in my mid-teens. I was always friends with boys as a kid. I played Legos and Transformers with them, just like I played Barbies and My Little Ponies with my female friends. So even though I was quite aware of sex, what it was, and what it did by the time I was 7 or 8 (yes, really), it took me a really long time to think of males in different terms. And then when it came to the point where I had a crush, it was always on my best male friend at the time. Because I thought that's how it had to be. Even as an adolescent, I somehow felt the pressure of the "men and women can't just be friends" argument.

I didn't date in high school. At all. The closest I came was having a guy ask me to my junior prom. I made up an excuse as to why I couldn't go, then he may or may not have overheard me calling him ugly later that day. I'm fairly certain some people I went to school with thought, and still think, I'm a lesbian because they never saw me with a guy. Which is fine, really. In addition to not dating, I did everything I could to keep any interest I had in a guy under wraps. I'd tell my two or three best friends and hope they wouldn't spread it. Then I would avoid the guy at all costs. The one time the guy actually found out I liked him, I freaked out, got in my car, and left school for the day. I was a senior, so I could do that. But I was 18 years old, and the idea that someone knew I was interested in them as more than a friend was positively mortifying. In a lot of ways, that hasn't really changed. As recently as a couple months ago, I went through the same thing, and I was still just as terrified.

I'm not a social person. I don't drink, I don't like crowds, I don't like parties or bars or clubs... When you're in your late teens and early twenties, that's what you do to meet people, and I never really did that. Or you meet people at school. But I commuted, which automatically put me at a disadvantage. I spent two and a half years at Bay Path College, which was all-female. Then by the time I got to Hartford, I was considerably older than most of the people I had classes with, and I was too busy working to be concerned with making friends. So when I realized just how much I was missing in that area, I turned to internet dating.

Name a dating site. I'm either on it currently or I've been on it at some point in the past. I've paid money, and am paying money right now, for their "services." Do I consider it money well spent? Up to this point, absolutely not. Not even a little bit. I've had better luck on free sites, if you could call it "luck" at all. Here are some examples:

The Surprise Visitor: We exchanged a few emails, and then we started talking on the phone. For five or six hours at a time, a few nights a week. Everything was going really well, and we were going to actually get together. Then one night, he visited me at work - uninvited. We chatted awkwardly until my manager gave me the evil eye and I told him to leave. He said he'd call me. He never did. I emailed him asking what was wrong, and he told me he was "too busy." Just like that, after feeling like it was really going somewhere. Also of note? This was my first experience with online dating.

(This story has a twist, though. I saw him about six years later at a friend's birthday party; they knew each other from an activity they both did. He kept looking at me like he couldn't figure out how he knew me, but I recognized him instantly. This was during the short period of time where I actually partook of alcohol, and I got drunk and had to go to a different end of the bar so I wouldn't start a fight with him. No hard feelings. None at all.)

The Pre-Emptive Dumping: After exchanging a few messages, we agreed to make plans for coffee. I suggested a location. He replied that, all of a sudden, he "wasn't ready for a relationship," and "didn't think this would work out." The tone of the message was far too serious for the length of time we'd "known" each other. He was breaking up with me, and we hadn't even met.

The Last-Minute Ditching: We went on one date. It went well. We continued to talk, and things were going in a decidedly sexual direction. The night before we were supposed to have our second date, he told me he'd met someone else. Especially devastating because I had never so seriously considered that level of physical intimacy with someone, and that was what I got for it.

The Disappearing Act: I bucked my usual trend of talking to a guy for several weeks before meeting, and we met after just a few days. I knew he had his share of mental and emotional issues; we bonded over that. I was aware he was moody and unpredictable, and I really didn't care because we got along. We went on a date. It went well. We both said we'd do it again sometime. Then my calls went unanswered, his replies to my messages were short, and then he disappeared completely. A couple months later, I sent him an email to make sure he was still alive. His reply? "I'm fine; I just don't feel like seeing people right now." Lucky me.

The Reunion: I ended up corresponding with a guy I went to high school with after "meeting" online. He was a senior when I was a freshman, so we didn't really "know" one another; it was more like "knowing of" one another. But we eventually got together for coffee. Now, I'm not usually one for strict displays of decorum. But when one is in a quiet bookstore, I do not believe one should be speaking loudly about their sex life. I played along at the time, as I wouldn't have taken issue with the conversation in another setting. But speaking as someone who engages in many instances of TMI, things got way TMI way too fast. We've exchanged emails in passing since then, but he is...not someone I'd want to date.

These examples speak for themselves. This is what I've dealt with out in the dating world. There are no good stories because I have no good stories (with the exception of the couple of men I've met via online dating who have become my friends; there was no attempt to date, so I don't include those).

Not that I'm looking for a "prince," but the question here is... How many more frogs do I have to "kiss"? How much more patience do I have? Can I somehow get myself to believe it's all worth it?