Mirror, Mirror On The Wall. (Or, Shattering Who Is The Fairest Of Them All.)

Friends, lovers or nothing.
There can only be one.
Friends, lovers or nothing.
There'll never be an in between, so give it up.
You whisper 'come on over' 'cuz you're two drinks in.
But in the morning I will say goodbye again.
...Anything other than yes is no,
anything other than stay is go,
anything less than I Love You is lying.

-Fucking John Mayer. I hate that kid. 

I am not perfect. 

This is a post in two parts.

1. 

I went to lunch today. Not on a date, but to lunch. 

With a boy that I went on two dates with in the Fall, and really liked as a Friend. 

Not a Lover but also not Nothing. I asked him to lunch because more often than not, if I see something funny or silly I want to share it with him. Since our two dates, every time I see a cheese with a funny name, a man with a glittery shirt or anything else that makes me smirk, I break out my phone and fill him in. We have a hilarious rapport and I like him - As a person, as a Friend. 

Admittedly, he liked me as More, and I may or may not have asked him to lunch because I needed some self-esteem reinforcement*. (Caution: This is not the way to do it. Caution!) 

*Though I was not willing to admit this to myself prior to the actual lunch date. 

I wanted to go to lunch with a boy who saw me through rose colored glasses: Not as the girl whose ex-boyfriends don't speak to her, as the girl whose exes from 10 years ago still have her blocked on facebook, but as the girl who he had two fantastic evenings with right as the Autumn leaves were beginning to change from green to gold. So, we met for lunch, and I could tell he was nervous. 

Hell! I was nervous! I didn't know what to expect. 

He was certainly curious about my lunch-related intentions and he asked me, point blank, though very kindly, why I asked him to lunch; and I gave the above explanation - that the silly texts and facebook banter were not a mass-text to all men, but to him specifically. I even pinky swore that this was the truth. (Because it is.) 

But the short(ish) version of our lunch un-date is that, in between the octopus carpaccio appetizer and the good bye hug; I somehow managed to break down the glass menagerie-version of myself my mind had created pretty damn fast.

Shatter that glass, you ass.

How? I guess by being myself - the sometimes inarticulate, overly layered (clothing wise) and admittedly a bit spacey version of myself. I didn't have all the answers, I got overwhelmed by all the Italian on the Italian menu, and haven't been following all the presidential debates. All over two glasses of tap water. I was grateful he ordered my salad for me, we smiled and laughed, but the reality is, by scheduling a confusing date for unclear reasons and then showing up as Myself, and not the First Date version of me, I believe broke down what I thought was the perfect image he had of me in his head. And not only that, I thiiiink, as a result of the general ambiguity of such a lunch date, with a boy I broke it off with, I was stupid to expect any sort of ego stroke in the first place. I mean, really!?! Man, of course, as much as I was testing the flame, seeing if it was a fire I could rekindle - no, ignite - he, on some level (if not totally aware already) could see how transparent my actions were. You see, I realize now, I wanted a man to see that unblemished version of me, not the faulty and unflattering view in the mirror I see, or the faulty and unflattering view of me that F had. 

And F loved.

That F Loves.

But, transparency being as it is, and as well, fragile as I am - now and always - of course he saw right through me! It was a weird thing to realize. I guess it was a mistake to be myself, fragility and all, when my only intentions were to sit there and have someone see me as my most Perfect Me. Because, especially now, I know am not and he never saw me as such. It dawned on me, because of certain things he said, that how I thought he saw me was never, in fact, how he saw me at all. 

Which, to say the least, is discouraging.

In explaining my thought processes regarding leaving my shop,  I was saying how I had come to realize that I'm going to be thirty and needed to...

...get a Big Girl Job? He interrupted.

In that moment I felt so small.
So. Small.
The answer is yes, but I hate that a man who knew so very little about me could say that so succinctly. I thought I was hiding the fact that my shopgirl job was the princess loving eight year old in me's Dream Job.

Dress Ups Forever!!!??? Where do I sign up?!?

I mean who doesn't love a tiara?
Or a motherfucking tutu?

I was so naive to think that I was the only one to think of my job as some manifestation of a child's love of costumes.
(Because, at my lowest points, that is exactly how I see it.)

Nix that with 'em both.
Ya? Kay? Cool.

But at least, I guess, when a man looks at you and thinks possible 'wife, mother, partner' he can overlook such quoteunquote "silliness". So by shattering that vision to a man - by ending that (even) momentary vision of partnership -  I guess my 'Not Big Girl Job' becomes a matter of discussion.
At lunch, I realized that I am as see-through as an open window with the curtains drawn; like a giant bay window accompanied by a dull view. From that point on, over the course of our lunch, I was stumbling over my words, unable to verbalize an entire thought. (Not a rarity, but again, I now assume these things are somewhat excusable when you are looking at a girl through OkCupid's rose colored glasses.) Anyhow, the lunch went on, and my insecurity continued its flare up, and by the end of it all - when he was telling me about the girl he last dated seriously having no real interests of any kind (and OCD) - I was internalizing each statement as a subconscious dig at me; him telling me I have no interests either.
Or, in Lehman's terms, I am not interesting either.
My Brain at Work: Because, though I love clothing, decorating and all that, of what interest is all that to man? (Because, that is what's really important, right?!?)
Before he got to the her 'having no interests', he also explained that he - in the realm of online & real world dating - had decided to look for a girl who,

'...Made her own money, took care of her own, because I have in the past always been the one taking care of the woman, ya know?'

So between that statement, and the 'Big Girl Job' interjection... I couldn't help but think,

'Aaaah, I see now. I see how you saw me: Why you liked me. You thought I needed someone to help me be a Big Girl.'

Fuck! Dude, I only (selfishly) wanted the personal reinforcement that someone could think of me as unblemished, as a beautiful existence permanently composed of two dinner dates.
But, instead, I left lunch with my ego shattered. 
I realize only now that even though I felt like he threw some terrible rock at my own self image at lunch today, he did not; I realize now, that my ego was looking to be stroked and instead someone held a hand mirror to it. And, the reflection of myself that I saw, or heard, in his words - in his actions - made me feel like I was never that 'perfect' image in the first place; to him, I was always a little girl lost in need of someone to order her (not very good) Pear & Gorgonzola salad for her.
And today, at lunch, is exactly what he did.

'She'll have the pear and Gorgonzola salad and I'll have the...'

Friends, Lovers or Nothing.

 2.

Not even Cuddle Buddies.

Apartment F was my Lover.
And my Boyfriend.
And is my Best Friend.
But I need to work on not turning to him, as my 'Best Friend', because I broke up with my Boyfriend.
Though he may love Me - Me, my number of lovers, acne scars and anxieties alike - Me as I see myself in the mirror, flawed and transparent - It is not fair to him.
Because we cannot simply be Friends.
Because although Best Friend and Boyfriend were once one in the same, it is not fair to him because I need to realize that they are no longer. Friend is not best friend or boyfriend.
I need to be fair to him, because I love him. Even though when he looks at me, he sees what I see; and sometimes I think when he's sees it, he loves her more than I do.
But I cannot lean on his shoulder to cry about leaving Him*. 

*Not even under the guise of Kat Moss asking about him. Meow.

Because he cannot differentiate between Friends, Lovers or Nothing like I do.
Who am I kidding, I can't either. 
Regardless, in order to be fair to him, I have to edit out the first two, too.
We have to be Friends, Lovers or Nothing

Fuck you John Mayer. Fuuuuuuuuck you.

 ...Anything other than yes is no,anything other than stay is go,anything less than I Love You is lying.

Sidenote: I have a date with potential Saturday night. Like REAL potential. So I have to get this helpless child schtick out of my head beforehand otherwise it is doomed. I need to be okay with being me, Me, me me me, no job, half a job, eight year old dream job alike. Aaaaaaaaaaaand, I'm back at the game. Back to the dates, back to the dinners and the why wait?!