one final, final thought before i go (i promise): i get feedback from many prospective men that i am emotionally volatile.
but what the hell does that mean?
yes, i do feel everything intensely, and i love like hell. that’s just in my nature. what is (immeasurable) joy without (immeasurable) sorrow? if i was not like this, i would not be able to love you the way i do. and yes, it makes me special — i would never give it up for anything, not even the one for me.
but have i ever been unkind to those i love? have i ever taken it out on them? i’ve been nothing but kind and open, even to men who didn’t want me, hell, even to men who have wronged me times over. so why do they act like it’s a potential burden — like my intensity is baggage they’re not ready to carry? don’t get me wrong, i’m not angry — i’m just genuinely baffled.
yet i still understand in a doublethink way that i can be a lot for the people around me. so if it’s ever too much for you, just mute me and only return when you’re ready. i will always be in turmoil; it is what defines me. and you can choose to be here or not; i won’t fault you regardless.
and i think that’s the solution to me as an enigma, a social construct that others have pigeonholed me against my will — the man who carefully dismantles the puzzle, only to realise that it was a glass onion all along, is the one i will marry.
i am cursed to be a woman; i am cursed to feel. the problem is that i struggle to determine who really wants me for who i am before i fall. elite men or otherwise, it is undeniable that i am only a body to some of them. i fear the proportion is higher than i wish it is. […]
but my femininity is not a weakness, it is a strength.
to my friends, and for my fans now
Welcome back to Gwyn’s Guide to Hyperoptimised Dating, where dating (and love) is a numbers game — and we hack it to hell.
Oh, following feedback from a fan yesterday on post #1 (sex and love), I wanted to take this space to add something before we proceed. They raised a good point that some men need time to get to know you better before they decide if you’re the one for them. If you bypass the pre-sex courtship, then, it is likelier that the man might develop feelings for you and get “sucked in” (verbatim quote, poor men!). Therefore, you lose the bucket of fence-sitters if you sleep with them early on.
It’s a fair point and I don’t disagree. My answer is that this boils down to personal preference: are you willing to give the fence-sitters a chance? I’ve met men who knew I was the one for them — at least, at that point — from the first time we met, and they were willing to show me from the start. Do I want to settle for anything less? I don’t think so.
In Part 2, on special request by a sweetheart, we will discuss signs of interest and when to disqualify.
I hope the psychopaths who want me don’t read this, or I have to wrack my brain to discover new and innovative ways to determine if men are interested in me (beyond my body). GOD!
I would say it all boils down to a gut feeling, but I thought that one of them I met was the one and that went down the drain real quick. So out with the vibes, out with the delusions, babygirls. At least I caught myself instantly this time — clearly, the compartmentalisation practice is working out.
We look only at actions hereon.
What’s in a Date?
With shock and surprise, I realised retroactively that men (and women) who are genuinely interested in you will want to partake in your hobbies. Groundbreaking indeed.
mrw
As you all know, it’s Jazz in July, and I initially began only intending to find cute boys to go to jazz concerts with (before I got sidetracked by hot men… thank you, Jesus…).
There were, broadly speaking, only two types of responses I received:
I don’t know much about jazz, but I’d love to try if you’re willing to have me 🙂
I don’t like jazz; can we do something else?
How interesting, right? Now, you can argue that the second type of man simply knows what he wants. That’s okay. I love men who are honest and have opinions. However, note that there is less acquiescence on his part compared to the first response type. If you bring it to the logical maximum it suggests that he is less interested in what you like as opposed to what he likes.
It is not about what we actually do. It is about how we get there.
Still, one date is poor sample sizing; there is nothing to interpolate from. Yet we must do our best because we are hyperoptimising.
Hence, we look at what we do on the second date (if there is one).
When planning the date together, did they ask what you’d like to do? Are they at least suggesting things that meet in the middle for both of you?
During the date, are they asking about you? What do you like, babygirl? What do you want in life? Where are you going? What are your fears? What do you look for in a partner? …How can I love you in the best way I can?
Or are they talking about themselves incessantly?
Texting, Yapping, Quality Time, Whatever You Like
Again, being kind and giving the benefit of the doubt, a relationship is meant to be founded on compromises. One guy mentioned we could go to a jazz bar, which was nice enough of him.
Unfortunately, he proceeded to text me remarkably inconsistently, so I figured he liked someone else more, dropped him, and bumped up my next favourite (possibly one of my top 10 decisions this year). It’s a pity (I exaggerate) because his face card was fantastic, but more importantly, I knew he could love — he still has pictures of his ex from years ago on his Instagram! (He orbits me, by the way. If you’re here, hi.)
The above is an example of a universal truth. If they wanted you, they would text you. NOBODY IS THAT BUSY THAT THEY CANNOT TEXT YOU. DO NOT MAKE EXCUSES FOR THEM! Additionally, the critical element distinguishing an excellent communicator (look out for it) is that if they were really busy, they would take the initiative to explain why. An exemplar:
Hey babygirl, I’m so sorry for my delayed responses as I’ve been swamped with work. Still, please feel free to text me whenever, and I’ll do my best to get back to you whenever I can. Love you lots x
It really is that simple. If you don’t have the physical bandwidth to write that, then bloody hell, just copy the text above and send it to the person you care about. My god! Do I have to say this!
People who love you will always set aside time for you.
They will not ghost you. I hate that term; I hate them all. I was so ready to love you for who you are, and this is what you thought I deserved in return. Not even an explanation, but nothing at all. It’s fine though — as the Stoics say, we are entitled to nothing from other people; to have expectations of others is futile. To give yourself to someone fully, you must expect nothing in return. And we must let go; we must return things as they are to make room for more, for better.
Your room has limited space. Do not give chances to people who do not cherish your attention. In the game of hyperoptimised dating, you only have one shot, and you’d better make the best of it.
So, love boils down to a war of attrition, I guess. He who persists wins.
Don’t turn around and change your mind; we don’t have time for that.
me yelling at me to RESPECT MYSELF
Sigh. I have once again written too much. But here’s the devastating kicker: if they liked you, you wouldn’t need to worry about these at all.
They would do all of it in the first place because you’re worth it to them.
And that’s what makes me sad.
Bonus: A Love Letter to My Orbiters
If you didn’t know, orbiters are people who do not reply your texts but watch your stories anyway. I categorise them into two types: malicious or stupid orbiters. But that’s a discussion for another time.
Processing orbiters is as easy as 123. If they can watch your stories, they have time to text you. Therefore, if they do not text you, they are just not that into you. Thank you. Mute their stories and go and talk to someone else who will be happy for your love and attention. But I’m not complaining; the orbiter class of men is my guilty pleasure (I mute orbiters who matter to me from watching my stories). Ultimately, every orbiter is a fan, and I adore my fans.
But that’s all you’ll ever be. If you’re happy with that, I’ll be happy for you too.
P/S: I’m not a saint. I make mistakes too. I yap too much, and I’m too emotionally volatile (apparently). Sometimes I inadvertently hurt people. So if you want something from me, tell me, babygirl, tell me now.
I’ll give it to you, because you’re worth it.
And so we end, before I go:
i’ll find a life partner eventually. but the love of my life — it’s me. and it’s you guys, my friends, who accept me completely as i am.
i used to be obsessed with this guy; i dreamt about him for years. even as he hurt me, over and over, vengefully because i had hurt him too, i clung to the idea of him, desperate for his love. i was willing to drop everything for him if only he would ask, if only he wanted me the way i wanted him so completely. the day i gave up on him for good when he told me i was too much for him. i guess i needed that closure, and at least i found it.
the thing is, i found myself loving again. and the next one was better, or so i thought. and then i fell out of love. and then i fell again, for — you won’t believe this — an even better one. because i was growing and i was becoming. and i will keep doing so, with or without them.
granted, with the current one, i think i’ve never felt so instantly sure before. but love has an insidious way of short-circuiting your brain making you blind to your past, your future, and even your present.
i’ve been thinking: i think many of us have a conception of love as a shared object. it is something given, but it has to be received to be complete. but i’m starting to wonder if it’s even simpler. maybe love is something that is merely given. it is not about what we have; it is not what you think about me. it is only about what i have to give you, because i wanted to, not because i wanted something in return.
and so love is not a game of deservedness — it is a game of appreciation. and so we keep going as much as we can. to love again and again, until we find someone who will accept us completely, as we are, as we will be.
there’s a big win in here somewhere — in working on my thesis i’ve realised what i really want to do in life (spoiler: it’s not academia). i clearly have a knack for socialising, being myself online, and writing whatever i like. i find myself coming back, over and over, to these things as my refuge. and though that’s not why i’m doing it in the first place, the more intensely i give myself, the more i have received in return.
so, thank you to my beloved for being here. i want you to know that you will be in my acknowledgements and my heart always. my universe, mine.
i haven’t considered this in a long time, but i just caught myself wondering — am i not good enough? nobody i’ve met tells me so; they tell me i’m exceptional, in fact — but i feel like i’m constantly on the verge of tears. all of this is a lot — as I read in a poem, how could anyone hold all of it and not melt?
but i forgive myself for all my weaknesses — i will not linger; i will learn, i will become.
sweetheart asked me why? why unblock him if you don’t care about him anymore? i hesitated — because i want him to watch? is it contradictory? is it petty? i wasn’t sure.
and as if by design, he appeared again on my stories. it was intriguing, but that was all — i didn’t feel anything aside from curious indifference and amusement.
so this is what it feels like when someone doesn’t matter anymore.
it was strangely poetic — like this was always bound to happen, and i was merely a passive observer to the predetermined unfolding. indeed, it was never about us, but i might have been wrong about the other part — it was never about you, even. it was about me: what i thought i wanted from you before i realised it had been in me from the beginning, just that i recognise it only now. that’s why a relationship takes at least two to work: there needs to be you and me to be an us.
i unblocked all of them because they don’t matter anymore; i think it is a natural consequence of letting go.
isn’t that wonderful? we love, we learn, and we forgive others and ourselves.
For the first time in a while, I had second thoughts about the oversharing I perform online.
I have always considered the potential consequences of doing so. I have also decided that they are insignificant in the grander scheme of things (what is a thought worth if never acted upon?).
What makes this second-guessing border on the absurd is that my main subject is my feelings. If people think they can weaponise my experiences against me, they are a fool at best and deranged at worst. I am my biggest critic; there’s nothing new they could possibly bring to the table. Attempting to police self-expression only highlights the complainant’s insecurities and prejudices. That’s why shit-stirrers without substance are usually anonymous — if they had conviction in their opinions, they wouldn’t be in hiding like the cowards they are.
But let’s move on to the other and more exciting kind of disclosure: the tell-alls, where I write about specific others. By the way: those get the most views, so what does that tell you about human nature?
My observations of people tell me that being deconstructed and revealed to others feels like punishment to many. There’s a curious feeling that rises in one’s stomach when they realise they’re the subject of someone else’s reports. It’s never fun to be written about negatively, and I take accountability for my words, so I do my best to avoid character attacks. I interpret what I observe and let my readers come to their own conclusions; that’s what keeps it fun. (Are you a disappointment? I don’t determine that; my audience does.)
I did backtrack once when I wrote a post about somebody whom I really cared for, even though I said nothing bad about them. I realised I didn’t want to subject them to scrutiny in the same way that I do to myself. So, if you’re a loved one who has wondered why I haven’t written about you, please know that I haven’t precisely because I care about you.
I will only ever explicitly write about people (typically men; I wonder why) that I do not care to keep in my life. I do think of it as a little punishment, maybe (FAFO for short). Even then, I keep their identity semi-anonymous out of basic decency: I have principles, you know. To reveal and be revealed is cathartic for me, though. Thus we have this blog — the product of all of these preferences. So, ironically, I have to credit the least deserving people for inspiring my work.
(To my future lover: if you’re reading this and you’re intimidated, don’t be. Again, inverting FAFO, you won’t be punished if you don’t mess around in the first place.)
It’s all fun and games in the end. If you don’t care, fine — you won’t be missed, and now I’ve made another pretty piece of art. If you care — enjoy the feeling while it lasts! If you love it, even better — it’d excite me further. If you want to retaliate, you’re welcome to do so — I told you, I love the thrill. One question that sets us apart, though: can you handle the consequences?
But okay, that’s enough meta for today. (I should really get a new hobby.)
one time i stared wide-eyed at the ceiling through midnight until his alarm rang. when i studied him, basking in the warmth of the golden hour, he seemed to be having a pleasant dream: maybe life was sweeter for him there. back in reality, all that was left for me to do was envy him.
i think that one sleeps soundly when there’s nothing to worry about.
another time we stayed up until it was warm; i was talking at him throughout, at a pace so frenetic it was as if i already knew that we would never see each other again. i couldn’t sleep, even with the additional melatonin in my blood. i did have a lot i wanted to share, but now i wonder if it was also because i didn’t feel comfortable enough to let the silence settle in between us. it adds up, because i can no longer remember what we said, only what was left unsaid.
as someone who’s had insomnia all her life, falling asleep easily is a blessing. a perfect descent is like wading into a warm ocean with the scent of home around you. deceptively light at first, a heaviness weighs you down until you realise you’re sinking to the point of no return: it conquers you whether you embrace or resist it. but it’s easier to let go with someone — if you trust that they’ll eventually pull you back to the surface to breathe again.
maybe they knew, maybe they didn’t — either way, i don’t think they cared.
i’ve joined them now. these days, i burrow into my blanket and hug my bolster tight. for sure, doing so can’t replicate the affections of a drowsy lover. but it is nice in its own way: nestled away in my cocoon, sometimes — just sometimes — i hear the sound of the waves and nothing else.
Don’t waste your time chasing butterflies. Mend your garden, and the butterflies will come.
Mario Quintana, Butterflies (translated from the original, “Borboletas”)
I feel I’ve grown a lot emotionally over the past six months. There might still be things I’m not ready to admit to myself — such as my irrational desire for a perfect partner who will ostensibly complete me — but I am also gradually realising that perhaps, just perhaps — I can be whole on my own after all.
I have embarked on so many projects this year that the younger me could hardly have imagined. Pilates princess, babygirl energy? Clarifying my boundaries, and letting go of people and things not contributing to my growth? Living as my authentic self, unwilling to be stifled by others’ projections?
Isn’t this what I wanted all along? All of this seems unreal.
I’ll keep doing these and more because I want to — not because anyone else has told me to, or because someone or society said it’s good for me. It’s good for me because I decided it is, and so it shall be.
I am tending to my garden; I will keep tending to it, rain or shine. The butterflies will come, not because I called out to them, but only because they find it a beautiful place to be.
They may be fickle; they may not stay.
And that’s okay; in the meantime — as we were meant to — we can play.
baby g’s diary 