Date #2

It's amazing how freaked out I can get about dating.
Can't even tell you how many times I second-guessed myself last night during what was actually, a pretty fucking awesome good time.
I smoke too much. (I had 2 cigarettes the whole time)
I don't make enough money.
I'm overweight.
I'm in a burlesque show and I'm an actor and is he going to be ok with all that comes with dating an artist?
I'm not clean-cut enough for this guy.
I have a past. What if he finds out?
Anyone who knows me knows where this list of misgivings came from.
Thing is, though, is that it's not you-know-who's fault. It's mine. For buying into it. For thinking that I'm not good enough.
Consequently, I've embarked on a life-long campaign to push anyone that might be able to hurt me away as fast as possible...in the fastest way possible.
I sleep with them immediately.
I used to think it was an impulse control problem. It's not.
It's fear. Pure, unadulterated fear of being made to feel "less than". So, I take the reigns and do it to myself. So I can blame myself.
So I can say, "Well, what did I expect?"
That's part of another lifelong quest to set the bar low so that I'm never disappointed.
It was a trick my mother taught me to lessen the pain of not getting cast in a show.
"Don't get your hopes up, and your hopes will never be dashed."
Trouble is, once you learn this skill, you forget how to hope at all.
And life gets pretty dull.

This guy is very nice. I like him. It would be nice to stop hearing "Ok, let's not fuck this one up" on a loop in my brain.
He said last night that it seems like it would be impossible to make me blush.
I told him it's quite easy. Just say something nice to me.
For when faced with someone that I like, suddenly there are stakes. There's something to lose.
I suddenly become painfully goddamned shy.

So, Hey, Good news is, I have something to talk about in therapy next week!
So, I got that going for me.
Which is nice.