For those who know me, this will (sadly) be news and cause for celebration: I actually went on a date last night.
For most of my life I’ve been chronically (and sometimes I worry terminally) single. With brief exception, during the last four years in Los Angeles I not only didn’t have a boyfriend, or dates, but I wasn’t even getting flirted with. Actually, there’s even something worse than not being flirted with: it’s when guys who have no self-confidence look you over with the obsequious look of “He’ll do; he’ll suffice; maybe he’ll like me.” in their eyes. Most often these guys are way older than I am—like 15 or 20 years—but sometimes they’re not too bad except that they have… this is going to sound really nasty to say, but they have no soul left.
So I would go out and the only attention I would get would be from these vulture-like guys, which is depressing because it means that I qualified as carrion.
I remembered times in New York when that wasn’t the case. Although I’ve always had a bit of trouble with self-confidence, I would get flirted with, sometimes with really young (20 or 21) guys, which I always found really validating. I think a conclusion that started creeping into my head was a horrible “logical” conclusion: I used to get flirted with and then I didn’t. I must have hit some age threshold where I was no longer sexy, and that being the case, logic would conclude that my best days were behind me.
Now I know how self-defeating (and self-perpetuating) that mindset is, but once you’re in the throes of depression that voice just doesn’t shut off. Intellectually I knew that this wasn’t the case, but that somehow it was my mindset that was crippling me. Essentially my mojo was broken.
The Sociological Perspective
I can’t tell you how much I thought about this for the past four years. (Believe me, being alone for that long I had plenty of time to dwell!) There was a really bad T.V. show called How to Get the Guy on ABC earlier this year. It was so bad it didn’t even air all of its episodes. I mean, it was really really bad, horribly scripted, really fake. But it was also really thought-provoking and I watched it with rapt attention. The premise of the show was that four San Francisco single women weren’t happy with their love lives and they were going to employ the help of two life/relationship coaches to tackle the problem face-on.
One of the women had that “nice girl next door” quality but just simply never got any dates. (The other women had different issues that weren’t relevant to me, so I wont mention them.) The first thing the life coaches had her do was practice “active flirting”. Their point was that if you don’t put out any signals other people wont even notice you. They had her practice striking up small conversations with any and every interesting-looking guy she met—even if they were only 20 seconds initiated by asking what time it was. The other big thing was eye contact, trying to count up to a full and uncomfortable eight seconds. Suddenly BANG she was getting so many dates and offers that she was quickly swamped by the attention.
I realized with horror that I had completely stopped sending out any signals whatsoever. I had neutered myself and wondered why I was invisible. Of course, realization may be “half the battle” but that didn’t suddenly fix everything. Whenever I went out I still felt like I was invisible. Okay, I didn’t have the guts to just walk up to complete and total strangers and start conversations. There had to be some sense of invitation that I wasn’t feeling, except again from the older guys that I just wasn’t interested in. (I’m really not an ageist. Older guys can be fantastic and sexy and amazing. it’s just that I kept feeling like carrion until I could get someone my own age or younger to notice me.)
The Mojo is Fixed
I wish I could tell you what happened to fix all this. I do think that people in L.A. operate on a different wavelength from me, that I just don’t click with them. But to put it all on Los Angeles and the 16 million people living there is unfair. I’ve got to own more of the problem than that. I am much happier in New York for reasons I can’t even understand. I do feel more alive, more vital. Maybe it’s just been the rush that comes from taking a frightening step and taking charge of my own life again. But whether or not it’s a “regional incompatibility” the point is something changed. I became willing and interested in getting back in the game.
And I don’t recognize myself. It’s not that I’m more confident per se as much as I’m simply doing things that seem a little out-of-character yet feel totally comfortable. I’m in a bar with friends, I meet someone new who seems interesting (and attractive) and there’s this feeling of chemistry. This strange tingling somewhere in the back of my brain. Eye contact is established. We talk for a while. Suddenly I lean forward and kiss him gently, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
And this voice in the back of my head, the narrator or the conscious self of the “ego” in freudian terms screams “Whoa! What just happened!?!” It’s completely out of character for the nice-but-awkward, shy guy I “know” I am… was… whatever. It’s the Invasion of the Body Snatchers or The Puppet Masters except with the twist that I’m much happier with the new alien mind than the old one. But there’s the same feeling of being scared and exhilarated at the same time that makes me squirm a little inside.
Mojo baby! Yeah!
Back to Scientific Examination
Actually, it could also be simple brain chemistry. There was a recent (Feb 2006) issue of National Geographic with an article about the brain chemistry of love. The article was badly written, but had some interesting scientific points. At different phases of the mating game (seeking potential mates, bonding with a mate, developing the relationship) the brain chemistry shifts dramatically and the personality changes along with it.
Once a mate is selected the “falling in love” period ensues. An intense and overwhelming experience that is typically classified with passion and romance is experienced. If I remember correctly there’s an abundance of dopamine that hyper-focuses the brain on this other individual. After a few months the dopamine level drops off. The article had a cute way of explaining that: in primitive times if the hunter stays in drug-user-level dopamine mode of initial-love he and his mate will starve to death; eventually he has to start hunting again. So the brain shifts from dopamine to serotonin, creating an overall feeling of “contentment and safety” while in the presence of the mate.
I don’t know if I’m in high-dopamine mode or if there’s a completely different phase of brain chemistry that’s associated with finding the mate, but I do feel like I’m operating with someone else’s brain at the moment, so something’s started working again. Is there a chemical compound for mojo?
And the big question… How’d the Date Go?
Oh, the date was fine. I had a blast. I think I’ll be seeing him again quite soon.