Girl gone crazy

“I don’t think I’ll ever fall madly in love with you.”

Mere months ago, such words would have sent me into a tailspin. Instead, when the man I’m crazy about said them to me yesterday, I experienced pain, sadness and what surely will turn out to be vain hope. But no tailspin.

We had spent a cozy if wet afternoon at an outdoor art fair. The constant mist didn’t dampen my enthusiasm just to be with him. We held hands. We shared an umbrella. We laughed and talked. He moved his chair close to mine and put his arm around me at the puppet show. We were acting like boyfriend and girlfriend – which is what I hoped for but knew better than to assume.

The question had been on my mind for the last couple of dates. When we went back to his place and peeled off our wet shoes and socks to dry by the fire, it happened: We had “the talk.”

“My life is just too busy for a serious relationship,” he said. I had just finished reading the book, He’s Just Not That Into You, which says that most every statement like this has the same unspoken meaning. So I said, “Tell me if this is correct or not. When a man says, ‘My life is just too busy for a serious relationship,’ I interpret it to mean, ‘I’m just not that into you.” (Thanks, Greg Behrendt!)

What he said next was meant either to soften the blow or to leave the door of possibility open a little crack (I know, I know, Greg, a man who is into a woman is not satisfied until the door is blown off the hinges. Allow me a few days to fantasize.) I think he said something to the effect that he didn’t know if he would be more into me if his life weren’t so demanding. (And you’re thinking, “She finds this somehow hopeful?”)

I’ll confess, even though Greg’s book laid bare the years I’ve wasted pining for men who just weren’t that into me, it’s going to take me a little while to do more than quote it during “the talk.” But I’m not here to psychoanalyze what may seem my desperate need to grasp at straws. I’m here to celebrate the truly destructive things I didn’t/won’t do.

As I said, mere months ago my reaction to his statement would have been to, first, argue with him about why he’s wrong and he really is into me. Then I’d cry a lot and maybe go for a walk in the dark. If it’s raining, all the better. Then I’d go into the aforementioned tailspin and become so morose that no right-minded man would give me a second thought. This pity party with an attendance of one (or is that a given?) would last until something came along to distract me.

OK, so I exaggerate. (Really, men, it’s called “poetic license.” I’m not as whacked out as it may seem.)

Some of you may recognize this behavior. But he hasn’t seen it in me.

My “change of heart,” you might call it, occurred almost imperceptibly over the summer. A co-worker and I started the season lamenting our lack of significant others. One day as we were eating lunch, one of her male friends, who has a lovely girlfriend, happened by, so we thought we’d get a man’s perspective on it. “Where can we go to meet nice men?” I asked. Considering the fact that he’s not in the market for a nice man, it was only logical that he shrug his shoulders and say he didn’t know. So that dashed my hope that "location, location, location" would provide the answer to finding a man.

As I considered the situation, I remembered hearing what seemed good advice: Do the things you enjoy doing and you’re more likely to meet someone who enjoys them, too, giving you something in common. It made sense. Then I thought of the years I spent in church choir with mostly married people. Because I was there to meet a man, the apparent “failure” of that endeavor sapped much of the joy I would normally feel while singing. So while the philosophy of doing what I loved was clearly an improvement over “cruising” for men, it still left me feeling empty.

I‘m not sure just how it happened, but I made a big leap forward about then. It might have been that a long-standing issue in my life seemed to have been resolved. Or maybe I had heard this for the requisite nine times it takes for things to register with the human brain. But it finally sunk in: Do things you enjoy for your own sake, not with an agenda – an agenda over which you have no control.

So I rediscovered roller-skating. I bought some CDs (second hand, of course) because I liked them. I started wearing make-up again because I feel more confident and pretty with a little eyeliner and mascara. And I plan to spend next January in India volunteering at an interfaith dialogue center.

My old mindset made me inclined to think of this short-lived romance as a waste of time and emotional energy. But my new outlook reminded me of what I've gained: a new appreciation for myself, in part through his words. I'm literate, pretty, generous, funny, surprising and sexy. And the lead sentence for the singles ad I plan to write for myself comes almost verbatim from him: I'm not like the women you usually get liquored up with.

So any of you men reading this who might be interested in getting to know me, be forewarned: my life is too busy for a serious relationship.

I guess the girl hasn't gone crazy, after all.