Not all shots are successful, but they’re also not always an obvious failure.
Shooting your shot can often be a painful ordeal of the long game. While yes, I’ve been partial to an immediate, “I have a girlfriend” reply, in an attempt to evade a situation, I think being strung along with no intention is infinitely worse.
It’s safe to say that I’ve shot my shot a fair few times over the years. As an avid believer of “don’t ask, don’t get” I can’t help but convince myself that beautiful men won’t talk to me unless I talk to them. Which is almost always true. I’m a confident person, but ultimately I’m very aware that I’m not my types type and the very few people that do swarm my DMs, just aren’t quite it for me. Swarm is even enthusiastic. Every once in a while I’ll pluck up the courage to tell the beautiful man that I think he’s beautiful and feel empowered for all of 25 minutes. Because while it may seem as though the shot has landed, it’s likely part of a screenshot game presented to his group chat and my overthinking knows this. As with every piece I write, this is fuelled by yet another embarrassing occurrence in my life. Which will one day be used to create a biopic of my truly awful love life and life in general to be fair.
Naturally, having a terrible day, I was ill informed that a beautiful man I seemingly got along with wasn’t interested at all, in an attempt to date a friend of mine. Totally fair. Which makes sense as to why he told the world and their sons that I “was all in his DMs”. I mean sure, I was. Like I said, don’t ask, don’t get. But I can’t help but feel all the more embarrassed. I’m often the second choice and while sure, I’ve become pretty complacent in my role as runner up, I don’t think I deserve it. No one does. I’ve always been particularly weary of men and or women who put down other people in attempt to raise other people up. The “she’s not my type, but you are,” merchants. But when it’s reaffirmed and your efforts are used as a laughing tool, you’re seemingly reminded of your role. Instead of being upfront, my favourite tool of conversation since love tore me a new one in 2018, I can’t help but be dumbfounded when others don’t use the same approach. I’ve written time and time again how much simpler dating would be had we all just said, “yep interested” or the far less fun, “nope, not interested”. But instead human nature dictates that we must string each other along for the heck of it. I mean I’m not saying I’d have married this man, it barely even made it to a first date, but I was of course reminded that men will risk it all in their attempts to make you feel small, to make others feel big. This dates back to my confident months of May, June and July, when flirting and wooing men was a doddle. I’ve since recoiled at the thought of telling a man I find attractive, that I find him attractive. What would even be the point?
It’s likely that the few bad attempts I’ve experienced this year alone, have scarred me enough for me never to want to move to a guy again. Which I’m sure sounds incredibly excessive, but much like the ice skating rinks I refuse to get back onto and the bikes I refuse to ride, I’ve tried it and it’s not for me. Einstein once hypothesised that insanity was doing something over and over again and expecting different results and by that account, I’d be utterly insane to subject myself to another round of embarrassment at the hands of the London love scene. I’ll accept where my desirability lies and that’s in the words I write and the foods I recommend. Should I die alone for not having someone I fancy make the first move then so be it. The game is apparently the game.