Why I’m glad I asked a guy out and why I never will again

I need to preface this post by saying that, truly, I don’t have any extra time in my life for dating. I can’t even find extra time in my life to do things I love (cooking, BLOGGING, shopping, TV watching, dance-classing), let alone things I’ve come to hate — i.e., dating. But with everyone around me finding love in unexpected places (and expected ones, too, such as El Interneto), with a slew of wedding invitations and fake February holidays, and the upcoming antsy-pantsy pangs of spring fever, I’ve wanted to make time for a boy. I’ve wanted to find a boy worth making time for.

A few weeks ago I met a friend of a friend who made me laugh. I like laughing, so I was drawn to this character. And when we hung out a second time a few weeks ago, he made me laugh even more, and I found myself wanting to keep talking to him long after the bar was closing.

To my surprise and delight, this dude actually asked the mutual friend for my phone number the next day. Hurrah! Someone liked making me laugh! Or, better yet, this dude thought I was funny, too!

But, because this is me we’re talking about, the digits were never used to contact me, and two weeks later I was still thinking about this dude who made me laugh but who never called me. At the urging of the lonely single sister sitting on my shoulder and a few girl-power-enthusiastic friends, I got the dude’s digits from the mutual friend and asked him out myself.

To his credit, he didn’t ignore the invitation: He wrote back that it sounded great and we began a roundabout few texts to try to choose a date and time. But with my 4:45 a.m. wake up calls, impending spring break, and two tests before Thursday, it just wasn’t happening. We had settled on “Monday or Tuesday,” and it was his job to let me know which one panned out better with his schedule….and here we are, and that never happened.

On the one hand, I do feel pretty good about having the confidence to ask a guy out on my own (even though I could barely press “send” on my own I was so nervous). But I won’t ever do it again.

Because as much as no one would tell me this to my face, there’s usually some reason a guy didn’t get in touch. And we all know this. It’s the motto of He’s Just Not That Into You that every girl has been forced to swallow and accept for years: you’re the rule, and not the exception.

It doesn’t matter that the reason he wasn’t into me was just because I’m too pretty and too awesome (obvi). Some things just don’t work out. And in the future, I’m going to let actions speak for themselves without requiring further proof of what I already know: If he doesn’t call you, he’s not into you. Period.

So I shall spend Monday and Tuesday doing what I need to be doing – studying, packing, doing laundry, and trying to find time to cook a somewhat nutritious meal while getting as much sleep as possible before that alarm goes off way too soon again.

And hopefully, when it’s really LFB who makes me laugh, he’ll call me.

First.