Competing for Love

I went out to dinner last night with one of the funniest friends I have. I know that I’ll be met with actual interest in my life and her full, undivided attention. She’s the type of friend that puts her phone away the entire time she’s with you. Call me old fashioned or needy, but I require that in a friend. We haven’t seen each other in what feels like a year because she’s living on budget, making big moves to stabilize her financial status (genuinely proud of her) but she made the exception for dinner last night. We’ve known each other since high school, so even when we go through moments of distance, when we meet up again, it’s like we haven’t been apart at all. She is truly one of my favourite people on earth.

We talked about so many different things last night: work crushes, annoying co-workers, future career goals, debt, odd friendships, past jobs, work crush (again), high school, seeing people from high school when you look ratchet, my favourite human from work, other friends and family situations, my current job hunt, our goals for 2020, our dead, non-existent love lives and then… the bachelor.

I want to clarify that I do not watch the bachelor. I used to, like forty two seasons ago. For you bachelor fans, the last season I watched was the one with Jake and Vienna – after that I was like – nope, I can’t spend my limited emotional capacity on that. She proceeded to tell me that all the ladies at her work are currently watching the season, and because she wanted to fit in, she’s watching it too. I am extremely grateful I work in a male dominated environment sometimes.

So she asked me if I would ever go on a show like that. The answer: heccccck no. But of course, now I’m thinking about it. So I guess we are going to talk about it.

Listen, I probably wouldn’t be chosen to be on the show but if by some miracle I were to be chosen by the grand jury to participate, I definitely wouldn’t make it past the first rose ceremony. If I think about it too long, it gives me mild anxiety. There is no way that I would be a rock star in that kind of setting, seriously, I would quickly crumble into a pile of pure human goop. I am barely a functional human being in a setting that I’m comfortable in; being in an environment where you are competing for the “love” (I use this term loosey goosey) of a man, is the exact opposite of what I would call “comfortable”.

I am competitive in many areas of my life. Seriously. Competitive. The other day I was playing UNO, the card game, and this child kept telling me all these rules that I knew weren’t real. So I googled the rules of UNO to prove to him that he was wrong. I know, I’m not impressed by my actions either. This was a literal child. Maybe it’s because I grew up with boys that never let me win at anything, but I actually do better under a little bit of stress. So competition is good. However, the one area of my life where I refuse to be competitive is when it comes to relationships. I don’t have the self-esteem for that junk. This fact became super clear to me when I was younger.

Let me set the scene for you: I was a young gal, about sixteen years old and I really liked this boy. He was great. We were buddies – we chatted every day after school on MSN (whoa, throwback), would see each other pretty frequently, would hug each other when we saw each other, et cetera et cetera. And then another girl came into the picture. Now this girl, she’s got confidence you know. She knows how to flirt probably and doesn’t think people are just being nice. She doesn’t put guys in the friend zone immediately, she owns who she is and gets what she wants. As it turns out, what she wanted was him.

So what did I do? Glad you asked.

I insisted on telling him how much she liked him and that he should give her a chance. He didn’t immediately react to what I was saying. At first, he’d deny he liked her. But slowly but surely, the more I (and other people) suggested he should, the idea grew on him. So he ended up dating her. Not only did I know how and when he was going to ask her out, once he did, he came right over to tell me. I was forever in the friend zone. It was the actual worst.

In an odd and tragic turn of events, I discovered that I am a great wing woman but not a great competitor. I know my place in the world. Being a wing woman is not a helpful skill to have on a show like the bachelor. Just imagine me, going up to the dude, and saying, “Brad, you know who I really think you’d click with: Kirsten or Kristen, Lindsay or Lindzi! Oh! And maybe Ashlee or Ashleigh… just to mix it up a bit. Great girls. K, Good luck…. Byeeeeeeee.”

Sidenote: is it just me or do they all have the same name?

Is there such thing as personal adviser to the bachelor, cause there’s a job I’d be great at. Haha

How about you? Would you ever be on a show like the bachelor? No, yes… maybe. Well if you ever go, good luck. If you need some advice, I’m your gal.