I’ve been on dates with two different women, and both times I got awkward. Apparently, being interested in someone is enough to interfere with my ability to behave like a person who has previously had a conversation.
One of those dates led to a second date. That seems like relevant information, although my brain has politely filed it somewhere inaccessible.
The other woman said we’d be better as friends. She said friends; I heard loser. Those aren’t the same word, and I know I’m supplying the harsher one myself. It still feels convincing when I’m already embarrassed.
What bothers me is how quickly the awkwardness becomes the whole story in my head. I want to meet someone, but afterward I’m stuck thinking about how uncomfortable I felt and whether it showed. Dating is supposed to involve another person. I seem to be conducting an extensive review of myself.
I know I need to keep trying. One second date even suggests that getting nervous hasn’t ruined every possibility. Right now, though, I’m frustrated, and the prospect of being awkward in front of someone new feels less like an opportunity than I’d hoped.
