Remember that guy I told you about, the one who gave me his number at a Christmas party? Well, my initial optimism turned out to be a dud.
We spent several weeks getting to know each other, interrupted by the holidays and time spent away with family and friends. But there were messages, phone calls, and a generally promising vibe. It turns out that he was getting to know someone else at the same time and went for the leggy blonde in the end.
Remember when Meredith in Grey’s Anatomy beseeches Derek: “Pick me. Choose me. Love me.”
If you don’t know the show, Derek was having an affair with Meredith but she didn’t know he was married. Instead of divorcing him, his wife demands back her husband. Derek has to decide where his heart lies.
Back when the episode first aired in 2005, Meredith’s plea was considered an expression of emotion and vulnerability, of longing. Much like Julia Roberts in Notting Hill: “I’m just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her.”
More recently, being a “pick me girl” has become pretty much an insult. A woman shouldn’t beg a man to pick her! Our sense of self-worth should see us stronger than looking to a man for validation. He ditched you? Buh-bye!
We should be more like Pippi Longstocking – determined, fearless, independent – and less like Annika, Pippi’s goody two-shoes friend, the one who’s always well-behaved, cautious – in short, a follower, not a leader.
Mixed signals aren’t a challenge
Can we convince someone to be with us by sheer force of will? I used to take mixed signals as a challenge. If only I tried harder maybe I would win the man’s affection after all. You will be (not at all) surprised to hear that strategy didn’t pay off.
As for Christmas party guy: there’s little harm done, really. He was nice enough and I enjoyed getting to know him, but it was also the very early stages of anything. I’m not heartbroken. I politely wished him good luck with everything and moved on.
But beneath the gracefully accepted rejection is a desire for someone to, well, pick me!
Being single can be an exercise in not losing your self-confidence. My family and friends will tell you that I am kind and generous, caring, smart, witty. Sure, I can also be cynical and stubborn. The more I am pushed, the more likely I am to dig in my heels. I am outspoken and will not shy away from argument. I am not a leggy blonde (as we have established) but I’m not an ogre either.
All in all, I’m a good sort. And yet, long is the list of men who did not pick me.
A guy I fancied at university fancied my friend instead. They ended up dating. In the wake of this turn of events, a pal of his, whom I had no designs on, went out of his way to tell me preemptively that he wasn’t interested. Just so I don’t get any ideas!
A guy I met a couple of years ago who had fairly recently gotten out of a relationship decided to get back together with his ex.
That’s not to say I haven’t turned down invitations to first, second or third dates when I didn’t feel interested or curious enough to go further. But let’s not kid ourselves: it’s harder on the receiving end, especially when you liked what you saw.
A man I dated for several months and was genuinely falling for (dare I say, falling in love with) just didn’t feel the same way. There was no other woman at all. He chose to be single (or to keep looking elsewhere). While I quickly got over Christmas party guy, I sometimes still wonder what I could’ve done differently with this other man. Is there any version of events in which we could’ve ended up together? There is no answer to that question.
So no, I will not wail and beg a man to pick me. But eventually, I would like someone to enthusiastically pick me, no coaxing or begging needed.
Our Lonely hearts columnist is a single woman living in Luxembourg in her 30s. To protect her privacy – and that of her dates – the column is published under a pseudonym.