No Games Allowed--Okay, Maybe Just a Little

Yet another article on MSN.com got me thinking this morning about a topic that has come up in my life quite a number of times recently. No, I’m not talking about being single; I’m talking about playing THE GAME. We all know what I’m referring to, we’ve all played it, we’ve all lost to it, and we’ve all loathed it. I’m becoming increasingly more impatient with the whole hoopla the older I get and the more I date. I’m getting too old to pretend that I don’t like someone. Yet, I’m totally guilty of holding a double standard when it comes to playing or not. A question posed within the article grabbed my attention:

Can two people create a healthy relationship without game-playing, or is it a necessary evil to instill a little excitement?

The Brit didn’t play the game, and it was refreshing. He called me every day, asked me out on dates, and wanted me to meet up with him and his friends every night he was out. He was very open with the fact that he liked me, and I liked him, so things worked. It wasn’t a huge headache or too much effort. Why can’t everything be this easy? I’m curious if you only can get away with not playing The Game if two people are mutually interested and excited about dating one another. I think that if interest levels sway one way or the other, the one less interested is going to get annoyed if the other party reveals how much they like the other. Patience is a virtue here I guess, and when it comes to hanging out with someone I like…I don’t have any.

What a nice transition into the situation my bearded lover. I dug him, and he drove me crazy. I’ve never been so sprung on someone so fast—left wondering if he’ll call me, checking my phone every five minutes. I believe I was in hell on Earth. I never could get this guy. I didn’t know if I was calling too much; if he was too shy, and I should be calling more; if he didn’t want to hear from me; if he wanted to hear from me, but was playing the game back. The whole thing gave me an ulcer. And quite frankly, I’d rather not be involved with someone than worried 24 hours a day if they like me or not. I liked him, therefore I wanted to hear from him…but I wouldn’t call too often myself because I was conscious of The Game the two of us were supposed to be playing. The irony is there, isn’t it? I’m sick of The Game; yet, I’m stuck playing it so I don’t look like a desperate, psycho girl. Why is it so forbidden in modern-day society to let someone know that you dig ‘em?

But then there’s the problem of revealing to someone that you dig him or her a little too much. Case in point: guys who call too much. (Which is where I’m guilty of the double standard.) Recently, I met an ex U-Dub football player who was so huge that I referred to him as Bruiser. Bruiser and I started talking one night at a party with some mutual friends. He got my number so we could go to breakfast the next morning, and I shrugged it off, not knowing how drunk he was or if he really was that serious about calling me. Oh my God. If I only knew how serious he was I would have never given him my number. The man down and outright stalked me for days. For those of you who know me, you know that I pretty much answer my phone all the time. If I’m busy for one reason or another, I’ll call you back as soon as I’m not busy. Well, Bruiser didn’t understand that concept. The man called me over and over again…one day he called three times in a three-hour time frame without one answer or phone call back from me. Who does that? He even would call an hour or a half hour later after I already told him I had plans to invite himself or ask if we could meet up. He was cute, and we definitely got along the first time we hung out, but I was totally turned off by how forward he was. He came across as slightly pathetic. Does this make me guilty of wanting someone to play the game…just a little bit…not too much…*Sigh* I think in some sort of sick and twisted world, a small version of The Game is necessary, although, if drawn out too much, rather annoying.

Ok. So, let’s analyze this rambling blog.
I’ve had:
1. A successful dating situation with a man who didn’t bother playing The Game, therefore we always saw each other and things moved along quickly without any sleepless nights. (Well, sleepless nights attributed to missed phone calls at least.)
2. Someone who played The Game, or wasn’t interested, but sort of acted interested, so I didn’t act too interested, or was dating someone else, therefore only called me when he wasn't with her, or liked me, but couldn't call me cause he had to figure out what was going on with the other girl, or used me for a little fun, (I’m still confused about what happened there, so can’t draw a final conclusion, but can still state that The Game was necessary in this situation.)
3. A guy who didn’t know the slightest about what it’s like to play The Game, but because I wasn’t that interested in him, it miserably backfired, and I haven’t talked to him since the last five phone calls he gave me.

What can I conclude from this? I suppose as exhausting as The Game is, it is necessary to play it just a bit…if that prevents someone from calling the other over and over and blowing their chances. Although, I’m not going to model my dating life after it. The longer I’m single, the better I’m getting at flirting and being forward with guys. I’ve realized that it’s usually the only way you’re going to get what you want.

SO...Friday I met someone. Again. (Hey, get off my back, it's summer-fling season!)We chatted a bit. He got my number, and I got his. I dig him. A lot. If he doesn’t call like he said he would by Thursday—I’m calling him.

No games.

Currently Feeling: Like I’m craving some sort of physically grueling activity. I’ve been slacking and partying too much lately. Time to get strict again.
Currently Anticipating: You know the answer—a phone call from Kelly.
Currently Listening To: Pearl Jam of course, to prepare myself for the concert this weekend. Fuck yeah.