Pretty much since Megan and I took off up I-5 toward Portland, Oregon, a snake-like thought has hissed in the back of mind mind. Sometimes it’s a gardner snake, a tickling whisp easy enough to ignore. Sometimes it’s a party snake in a can that can simply be giggled at. But sometimes it’s a venomous snake, one who sinks her teeth in to my gray matter and won’t retract her jaw, pumping my mind full of endless questions all about who will ever want to be the boyfriend of the girl on went on 50 dates?
It’s not a new question for me, yet it’s one I’ve never been able to shed.
The fear isn’t completely confounded. 50/50 played a contentious part of a relationship in the past two years. Part of that is my own fault, in how I handled relationshipuations surrounding 50/50. And part of that is no one’s fault – it’s that some partners aren’t built to be truly okay with what it means to be dating me.
And what it means to be dating me is that, at some point (with fingers crossed, pixie dust, and the magic of Megan and Kim), there will be a documentary that features (though is not limited to) me going on a bunch of dates with different guys. Having conversations with them. In two instances, kissing them. And me answering the question would you have slept with any of them? Which ones? Somewhere, Megan even has footage of me discussing how I lost my virginity – though I don’t think that’s made it to the most recent version.
Which is why I bring this up.
A guy recently asked me, as everyone does, how the movie is coming along. Specifically, “Have you seen any cuts of it?”
Truth is, I haven’t. I’ve seen what amounts to 75 minutes of footage from different dates, but nothing cohesively cinema-esque, the way I’d imagine it will look in its final stages. I asked if he wanted to see some of that footage – raw, and kinda silly footage.
His face dropped. “I actually don’t think I want to watch you on dates with other guys.”
Pretty sure my face dropped there, too.
There are moments – and they are fleeting – where due to fearing a reaction like this, I wish I hadn’t gone on 50 first dates at all.
Which isn’t necessarily fair. I think plenty of men will come around to the idea of being supportive in a way I want them to me. For better or for worse, I want a partner who is going to be able to sit through the whole film with me and hold my hand. And a partner who will read drafts of my book (if not give me feedback).
It’s fair to say this is a tall order. Maybe the better option is to let my friends be the sounding boards and hand-holders for all things 50/50, and let the boys be boys.