The Virgin/Whore Complex.

So, I know you’ve all been anxiously awaiting your update regarding the date with RCB. I had some aversions calling it a date in the first place but some of you out there convinced me that it would, in fact, be a date.

I should have trusted my instincts.

But let’s back up a little. We talked briefly on Thursday to figure out where and when we’d meet. He showed up at the appointed time and we walked to the bar together. We went to the back bar, as it was less crowded, and sat down and ordered a round. We started to talk. And it wasn’t awkward and it wasn’t forced and it wasn’t silent. In fact, it was quite nice and comfortable, filled with an equal combination of flirty banter and intellectual discussion. Many compliments were thrown my way, all of which were accepted but none of which were returned.

Four hours later, he asked his famous, “what do you want to do” and looked me in the eyes. Dammit. Did he mean what did I want to do or what did I think we should do? I knew how I should answer but the opposite words came out of my mouth. Throwing absolutely zero caution to the wind, I gave him four choices, one of which was to go back to my house (very close by), make something to eat and watch television (as it was a school night).

Of course he picked the go back to my place choice. However, I set down guidelines and rules before we walked out of the bar (not only because this was a “first date” and this is how I am but also because of how he treated me in the past and because of the still ambiguousness of the relationship with The Hooker, whose name was never uttered by either of us). I drew The Line so that he would not have any misconceptions about what would happen when we got to my house. If nothing else, I am very good at not crossing my self drawn lines; toeing them, sure, but crossing them if I set my mind not to, never. Ask Him.

We get to my house and, obviously, no meal was made and no television was watched. As not generally being one to share this kind of information, I will just say that we had a good evening. He acted in the right way and said and did all the right things. He followed the rules. A naïve girl would be a fool to think that this guy hadn’t changed! A naïve girl would think that this kid now knew what was up, what he had given up two years ago and what he had been missing in the meantime.

Everything seemed to be good, or at least copasetic. I mean, why go through the trouble of contacting me after so long, arranging a meeting, maintaining hours of conversation and more hours of hanging out if you didn’t, at the very least, like me?

Naïve, naïve girl. I apparently have never heard the phrase "have your cake and eat it, too."

Through my own resources, I come to find out that he would be spending the entire long weekend with Her. And that their weekend would consist of much alcohol and hanging out. That kind of hanging out. And that this was all planned well in advance of his meeting with me.

What. The. Fuck.

This is the girl who told me, when she was trying [unsuccessfully] to be my friend (ew!), that her friends joke she’s been around the block so many times that she built her own sidewalk. The one who said, if put in the place of Monica Lewinsky, she would have done everything the same except she “wouldn’t have gotten anything on the dress.” The girl whose boyfriend had tamed her to the point of being able to look but not touch, who refers to men as boy toys.

As Objection so aptly stated the other day, “it’s the classic virgin/whore complex” meaning that guys really like the sweet, innocent, normal girl (ie ME) but always tend to gravitate toward the girl who is the exact opposite in all ways (HER).

This is so dunzo.