Man dating friends friends

22 Apr

To find a girl who was fascinated with math and physics was a twofold boon: 1) a girl who pursued these areas of study had similar interests to mine, and thus would almost surely understand my worldview; and 2) science and math, as academic fields, are male-dominated—so the women in the field struck me as brave, exceedingly intelligent, ambitious, and far above shallow pursuits, like obsessing over makeup or dancing to bad music—i.e., things Christine loved. It seemed foolproof, and for the most part, it was. I felt no concern that Kathy would resist my advances.

While Kathy’s looks made her cute, her interest in science made her hot. She was the inverse of Christine: confident in her intelligence, but unsure of her looks and social skills. The confidence I had gained from dating Christine had altered my personality. It took no summoning of courage to ask Kathy out—the confidence was already there.

I’m not sure if we kissed that night or if it was the next night, but before I knew it, we were together, naked in my bed.♦◊♦The world was inside out. She was the first member of her family to go to an institution with anything approaching the academic rigor of the University of Chicago.

This made her insecure; she feared being stupid to the point of terror.

For me, I realized that I should have been dating my girlfriend’s best friend a few weeks after I had become exclusive with my girlfriend.

Since college, my lack of confidence has betrayed me several times.

It should be no surprise, then, that I majored in mathematics myself. Then we would both die and be buried next to each other.

After all, she was hot—she wasn’t just cute or pretty. Perhaps it came from years of rejection and snubbing from the most attractive girls, but at the time, I had taken to heart this idea of “leagues.” Is she out of my league? To be frank, the idea of “leagues” was frustrating beyond the fact that it was a sports analogy. Convincing her I was a worthwhile pursuit—that was another matter. When I ran into her in the elevator one day early on in the year, I made a bunch of rapid-fire jokes.

I spoke to her in the way I speak to many people, to enjoy the attention and not expect it to lead anywhere.

She never complimented me, never told me how cute I was, never told me how much she liked me. But I found my newfound confidence waning, and I flipped out. So I did one of the toughest, stupidest things I’ve ever done: I broke up with her.♦◊♦So what if I thought I wasn’t good enough for her? She had agreed to be with me and that should have been good enough.

She didn’t try to hold my hand, she didn’t caress my back, she didn’t try to kiss me in public. She didn’t seem to understand how awesome I was, and in turn, I started feeling less awesome. If she didn’t think I was that great, shouldn’t she be with a guy who was? If she had wanted to break up with me, she would have done so. I was back to square one—I became the same neurotic, anxious, awkward, desperate jerk that I had ever been. Like many mistakes in my life, I should’ve learned from it but didn’t.