Tag Archives: being single

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Dating the Doppelganger

Last night, my company had one of our big award galas followed by drinks on the boss and then the younger crew took to the streets for additional boozing. Needless to say, our GM’s request for us all to come in a little later was much appreciated.

My hair wet and my makeup carelessly applied and smudged, I couldn’t bring myself to read F. Scott Fitzgerald as I rode the downtown train. Somehow, Gatsby just seems to deserve more than my hung-over attention. Instead of reading, I did one of my prized past-times, people watching. Though I usually stand, at this mid-morning hour I gave into the desire to plop down and bulge my elbows to claim my personal space bubble.

Glancing through the straphangers, I met eyes with a few cuties, made a silly face at a baby with curls and said a prayer for the homeless man scratching himself in the corner of the cart as everyone around him scattered, afraid they could catch “homeless” if they got too close. The married, gray-haired man next to me read his Wall Street Journal folded up into a tight little square, opening it as he slowly read the financial news of the day. And a rather non-amused teenager listening to Nicki Minaj so loudly it made my eardrums ring.

And then across from me, sat Mr. Possibility.

Or so, I thought, anyway. But no, it couldn’t be – Mr. Possibility is out-of-town this weekend and there was no way he’d be riding the downtown train from the Upper West Side to Chelsea at 10 a.m. I did a double-take when I first saw him, trying to further convince myself that it wasn’t in fact my boyfriend, but his doppelganger.

I couldn’t help but study him, left with nothing else to entertain myself with for the next six stops. His hair laid the same way. His eyes were the same color. He made the same face that Mr. Possibility does when he’s thinking really hard. When he lost at whatever game his phone was entertaining him with, he mouthed “F***” just as I imagine Mr. Possibility would do if he had actually downloaded that Angry Bird app he once played for an hour straight at a friend’s barbeque. His attire could have been pulled out of Mr. Possibility’s closet. I didn’t know this man, but here I was watching him intimately, feeling like I could strike up a conversation with little effort. He doesn’t know me, but I’m dating his doppelganger. Who is this guy and what is the universe trying to tell me? It’s an omen of death to meet your own look-a-like, so what happens when you see the twin of the guy you’re dating?

Once I exited the train, I didn’t give too much more thought about the character I encountered and busily got to writing and editing articles. When 1:30 rolled around and I realized I was still surviving off my pizza indulgence from last night’s shenanigans, I hurried out of the office to grab something simple to eat and a hot dose of caffeine to keep me going until half-past-five.

Taking the stairs to rid my carbohydrate-d guilt, I flung the door into the lobby open and found myself face-to-face with the doppelganger.

He looked surprised and smiled as he asked, “You were on the train this morning.” I confirmed and felt my cheeks redden to the tune of Akon, realizing he noticed me, noticing him. We talked about working in the same building and both living on the Upper West Side and what a small world Manhattan is. I wasn’t too incredibly freaked out by the meeting until he said, “Well, it’s nice to meet you, my name is Mr. Possibility.”

Yep. They have the same name too.

I stammered my way out of his vicinity and into the streets, less hungry and more intrigued. Maybe Mr. Possibility is my match, but I just met his. I said a silent prayer they weren’t just alike because that probably means there’s another one of me lurking around the corner, writing a blog about dating, love, sex, and ridiculousness.

But you know – I kind of already know I’m not one-of-a-kind. Sure, there’s not another Lindsay Tigar on Facebook or anyone who is just like or looks identical to me or has my same history and passions – but I’ve met women who are very similar to me. The planet has no lack of writers or editors and not enough jobs to fill the passion. Anyone who wants to be can be a blogger and if you want a byline, there’s probably an outlet for you somewhere on some website, somewhere in the World Wide Web. There are blue-eyed beauties and average-height brunettes who love heels and hail from North Carolina. And if you’ve dated at all, you’ve probably found a Mr. Unavailable, a Mr. Possibility, a Mr. Idea, and all of the rest. I have no doubt I probably have dozens of twins and perhaps even a doppelganger too, that I’d like to not meet anytime soon.

Maybe we’re not so unique but rather, vain enough to believe there is only one person who can do whatever it is that we do. Or perhaps we’re silly to believe that only one person is designed to be our partner in this life, that only one wonderful, dream-like dude can fit the bill of boyfriend or husband or otherwise.

But that’s not true. I’ve met two Mr. Possibilities. And really, isn’t every man a Mr. Possibility until proven…impossible?

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A Broken Give-a-Damn

The day before my college graduation, standing in streets covered with a slippery thin sheet of ice, Mr. Idea and I screamed at each other hunched under an awning a block from my apartment.

It wasn’t either of our finest moments.

It ultimately led to me throwing a high-heeled shoe in his general direction out of frustration, unchartered emotion and a little bit of booze. It didn’t hit him but he was astonished at my actions so much that he screamed (much to the dismay of my roommate): “You threw a shoe at my face! Lindsay! What’s wrong with you?” Equally as loud but through a thick stream of tears and unflattering nose-runnage, I replied: “I just want you to make me feel like you care and you don’t!!! Why can’t you just make me feel better?”

I’d like to say I’ve grown out of that immature statement but the truth is, I’m not sure we ever do. Maybe those totally-Zen, consistently healthy and one-with-the-world people are clear and peaceful in their relationships, but I don’t happen to be part of that demographic.

I’m emotional. I’m impatient. I can overreact. I have a tendency to overanalyze. I think people should give me just as much as I give them, though I don’t take all that much. When I’m mad, I cry. When I’m sad, I cry. When I’m furious, I need to take a walk (and apparently throw things). And when I’m upset in a relationship, as I was with Mr. Idea and probably as I’ll be with any man I date, I tend to think they should make me feel a certain way.

They should be understanding and kind. They should sometimes prioritize me above other things. They should have my best interest at heart and work hard at bettering my life, just as I hope to make their day-to-day brighter. Promises should be made and kept, not haphazardly planned and forgotten. I consider myself a great catch and you, whoever it is that I’m dating, should treat me as such. You should know what you have when you have me, and gosh-darnit – you should make me feel like the most amazing creature on Earth.

Right?

Well, maybe that worked once upon a time in never-never land, but in real life, in real relationship that are messy, complicated and flat-out irritating at times – things aren’t so cut and dry. While your partner should make you happy and positively affect your existence, they are not and should not be responsible for making you feel any way. And if you find yourself yelling at the top of your lungs, Jimmy in hand, begging them to make you feel differently – maybe you should check yourself. Check your emotions. And above all – check on the relationship.

There will be ups and downs and there will be fights. Hell, arguing can even be healthy occasionally and shows you how someone handles themselves in the heat of the moment or when tensions brew. But if there are more bad times than good, if you’re not getting what you want, if you’re not feeling what you want to feel, if you’re not finding that loving feeling as often as you’re battling the urge to run away – then what are you doing?

You’re waiting for someone to make you feel a way you can’t with them and maybe asking them to feel something they don’t. And if you can’t and they don’t, then the answer to your questionable exit strategy is…go. Breathe. Revel in yourself and in the possibility to meet someone who doesn’t frustrate you. Who doesn’t stand outside in the cold threatening to break up with you on the eve of your college graduation.

Because really, the only person who can make you feel the way you want to feel is you. The you who one day finds a love that doesn’t make you doubt or wonder constantly. And if you’re with the wrong one, you can never meet the right one. If you’re too busy fighting, you don’t have any energy to love. And if there is no love left, then girl, go out and find it.

And before you find it, find yourself. Decide your give-a-damn is broken and make yourself feel so in love with you that nothing else can compare.

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A Distracting Click

I call it the “click.”

Others refer to it as chemistry, shared interests, similar backgrounds, or an unparalleled connection. It’s that feeling – or maybe it’s a moment – when you’re just starting to date someone and you recognize the “click.” It’s that little voice or that nudge in your tummy that says, “Oh! This could be something. I like him!”

I think the click is different for everyone and specific to each relationship. The click with Mr. Idea was on our first date, while the click with Mr. Possibility took a few months to develop. Anything can ignite the click, a sentence, a discovery, a trip, an intense sex session, and the list goes on and on. Regardless, the click is important. It’s the beginning of the lifeline of a relationship-that-could-be and it’s when any eligible bachelor steps up from courter to, well, possibility.

My friend K has an exciting dating life, and I’ve often told her she should be writing this blog instead of me since I’m no longer making the Manhattan rounds. She’s an equal-opportunity dater: tall, short, older, younger, religious, unaffiliated, foreign, All-American, this or that. Her stories are wildly entertaining and her optimism is refreshing, no matter what she holds her head high and goes onto the next one if this one doesn’t fit. She’s quite level-headed when it comes to dudes – a trait I only developed through this blog – so when she Gchatted me first thing this morning to ask for advice in a somewhat frantic manner, I was a tad surprised.

She had the click with someone.

And this time, instead of just being another guy on the roster, he’s stepped ahead in the rankings and now a bazillion questions are running through her mind (and being asked via chat): how do I not get jealous over his ex? When is a good time to express that I’d be fine with not dating anyone else? How do I not peek over his shoulder when something piques my interest on his BlackBerry? Why does sex suddenly mean something because my emotions are tied to him?

Attempting to put things into check for her while still being a good friend – I felt like a hypocrite. I’m advising her to take it slow, to calm down, to keep her options open since it’s only been a handful of dates, to not worry, to be herself, to let him fall for her, and all of these cookie-cutter trite words of wisdom. But the truth is – once you click, it’s hard to compromise.

Because that feeling is intoxicating. It takes over all of your rational thought and turns you into an obsessive, crazy gal who wants what she wants right when she wants it. It makes fun sex have strings attached. It makes us want to stalk the ex-girlfriend by any means available. It makes us want to pull him so incredibly close that he can’t seemingly get away. It makes us want to lock him in as boyfriend, pray insistently that he isn’t tempted by the fruit of another, and more than anything, it makes us deathly afraid. We know the click doesn’t come along often and when it does, shouldn’t we capitalize on it? And not compromise what we’re feeling because we love it so damn much?

But we kind of have to. We have to slow down. We have to tell our heart to have some patience. We have to not get too attached too soon. We have to not let our hope rise too high because we know what it feels like when it falls too low. We have to put up some protection because we’ve been burned before. The click is the first indication but it isn’t a signal of longevity or a promise that love is in the making.

The click is just what it is: a brief feeling that sparks something. And that something, if we can swallow our fear and stomach the process of dating until (or if) casual turns into concrete, the maybe, that click will click into an actual something. Something that’s more defined and dependable.

We have to tuck away that obsessive nature and focus on something more important than the click, even when it seems like it’s the most valuable thing in the whole world.

You know, distract ourselves. Because if the click is going to distract us from everything else, the only compromise that makes sense is to distract it right back.

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Why I Do The Things I Do

My mom has this way of attracting ladies with magnetic personalities. Her gaggle of girlfriends is eclectic and intense, always laughing, always sharing, always discussing, and always formulating. I’ve always been intrigued by her network, and when I visit I often find myself gladly in their company and energy. Tonight was no different when she invited me to go with her to the Women’s Wisdom Circle – a group led by her friend C.

Leaving Mr. Possibility to have dinner alone with my father (the house and the two of them survived, though the bottle of Tequila did not), mom and I had dinner at our favorite Greek restaurant and a few glasses of Cabernet before taking a seat of wisdom. The group aims to raise questions and to get women to ask themselves basically the premise of this blog: if we know thyself, then doesn’t everything fall into place?

Each week has a different topic of interest and this week, the group chatted about motivation. Specifically, what motivates you to keep going?

We all had a moment to ourselves before sharing our thoughts, and as I sat there, pen and clipboard in hand, trying to answer this question for myself. Playing off of the very little I know about meditation (that’s the next step), I pictured myself back in New York, lying in the bed I bought with money I earned from the job I go to everyday. I thought about how I feel each morning, when the alarm goes off earlier than I want it to and my body is tired from a night of unsettled rest. I thought about the routine I practice when I’m not on vacation and how each day gets started.

What makes me get up?

Is it my iced coffee and egg-and-cheese wake-up wrap from Dunkin’ Donuts? Or my morning commute that is always filled with interesting people and ample fodder? Is it penning articles and updating websites and writing this blog? Maybe it’s my wonderful group of friends or my possibility or the combination of all of the above?

I couldn’t really decide and at first, it worried me. Does nothing really motivate me? Do I not have anything in my life that gets me going? That pushes me to move forward? Do I just do things for the sake of doing them? Because I know I should or that I think that by doing them, I’ll get somewhere else? Or find someone? Or get something in return?

Why do I do the things I do?

Chewing on the end of my pen on loan, hoping the owner wouldn’t mind, I circled the room with my eyes, searching for answers in the faces of a few strangers, a friend and my mom. They all read differently and they spoke about what drove them in different ways: “my morning coffee”, “my pets”, “I feel lazy if I don’t”, and “I have a need to be productive”, among others. When it came my turn, I spoke hesitantly because I noticed a big difference in my response compared to the others. Also because I was at a different point in my life, all of the women were over 40, a few retired, some married, some with children – and here I was, the visitor from the big city, daughter of the very lovely, open-minded and radiant woman, in my 20s, not hitched and without a child. Was I really about to say what I truly felt?

That the reason I got up each morning was that I’m happy?

And if I think about what motivates me to give each day a chance, it’s the fact that it is a new start. A sunny beginning. It’s the fact that if I get through today, if I give this 24-hour span my everything, if I work hard, if I believe in the goodness of life and in the brightness of my spirit, then tomorrow will most likely come. Perhaps not guaranteed but quite likely, it will arrive. And with tomorrow, I’ll be one step closer, one moment nearer to the pieces of my future and of my dreams that I’m still piecing together. That dream job down the road will be in sight, that home I hope to build, that love I want to find, and that byline I long to see, those will be closer if I decide to turn the alarm off instead of snooze. If I decide to shower and throw the covers up on my bed, pick out a pair of kicks to battle the city with. If I decide to smile and have faith in the divinity of what is it be and to have peace with the days that came before. Those days where I decided to do the things I’ll do today.

And I’ll do  the things I do because I’m happy with the me I am. And excited for the me I’ve yet to meet.

For more information on Women’s Wisdom Circles, email C. 

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A Real Relationship

I’m a pretty relaxed traveler. I don’t over pack but I pack enough. I’m not afraid of missing my flight but I’m perpetually way too early. I don’t set my plans in stone but I always have a general idea of what I’d like to do. Most of the traveling and exploring I’ve done, I’ve done alone, so globe or stateside trotting with someone else is just about the only thing that makes me a little nervous.

Mr. Possibility and I have been through a lot together and I’ve known him almost the entire time I’ve been writing this blog, making the process of learning to love myself, with or without a guy that much more complicated. I was specific when I started this journey that I wasn’t going to make any rules and I wasn’t going to stop dating if someone happened to fall into my life that I was interested in. Most literally, I just about fell into Mr. Possibility’s lap on that sunny afternoon nearly nine months ago.

And here we are today, preparing for our first trip together, attempting to put the past behind us and set out into the adventure that is a relationship. I haven’t been in one for a while and the last one (Mr. Idea) wasn’t exactly sunshine-and-roses, but with Mr. possibility, it was nearly impossible (pun intended) to not give it a go. There’s something about connecting with someone on such a personal basis that even if there wasn’t chemistry or passion or sex or all of the above, you’d still like who they were as a person, all other things aside. That’s Mr. Possibility for you – a good guy. A guy who gets me, who makes me laugh, who doesn’t try to hold me back, who encourages my dreams and is pretty dependable.

He is many wonderful things or he wouldn’t be with me – but one thing that he’s not is organized. I’m not the cleanest person in the world, trust me. Neither is he and that not-so-winning combination has caused some sticky situations in the past. But when it comes to preparing to go away or getting my affairs in order before leaving home for a week, I start to think ahead…well, ahead. Mr. Possibility doesn’t quite think in the same way, or rather if he does, he’s far more relaxed about it then I am.

I’ve had my suitcase packed for two days, an idea of what time we have to get up to be there in enough time, and our itinerary, including our rental car information and flight schedule printed. I’ve packed magazines I’ve been dying to read (and one for him), formulated a few blog posts so I wouldn’t have to stress on vacation (but I’m bringing my laptop, can’t help myself), and came up with a list of things I want to do. Mr. Possibility, on the other hand, didn’t start packing until right now, is stopping by a friend’s birthday party when we have a 6 a.m. flight tomorrow, and I’m finishing up laundry so he’ll have everything he needs.

Needless to say, perhaps, there’s been a little tension.

A big part of a relationship is compromise and accepting someone’s idiosyncrasies. I know I have ridiculous traits and I also know he has his, but if we can both learn to relax, to take a step back, and remember why we care – instead of what annoys the hell out of us – then we have a chance at a great trip and at a great partnership. I probably packed too many shoes and will be a little flustered if I don’t get to see some of the things I want to see, and Mr. Possibility could run away screaming from me if I ask him one more time if he has everything he needs – but I take him for him. He takes me for me. It’s not perfect and it’s not supposed to be, but it is life and this is a real relationship. We can’t escape reality, even if we are going on vacation.

I’m still coming to terms with giving up the single status but I’m excited about taking a trip with a man. Even if he happens to be the sort of man who is standing in front of me, asking which tie goes the best with the suit he wants to bring and neither of his options match at all. Did I mention we’re leaving ten hours? And his suitcase is empty?

Sigh.