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Sunday, 17 January 2010

I went out this evening with a previous date. Having bumped into him a couple of times, I received a text saying he was going out with a couple of friends if I wanted join them. Bored already with my 'Not going out' campaign, I joined them.

I am unclear as to the etiquette of meeting up with old dates when you don't want to date. It didn't really occur to me that just because I didn't want to date, that everyone should feel the same. It only occurred to me on the way. I wondered if I should have sent some text saying 'Would love to meet, but I am not looking to date'. He may not be looking to date and would then view me as arrogant, It is all so complicated.

I went anyway. I laughed so much, I physically ached. I laugh very loudly and there is a chance I may never get invited again. We all ended up talking about dating anyway. Tis a small town and everybody knows everybody and is sure to know who everyone dated. I knew my old dates latest date. She was recently dating a neighbours friend. My old dates friend knows my last date. When I mentioned I had dated a serial dater, he knew exactly who it was. In fact, he had worked for him.

It was with some embarrassment that he revealed this serial dater had dated almost every woman in the county and was most apologetic for knowing this.

It is a strange thing. Everyone thinks that I must be the last in a line of devastated dates. I am not. I knew the reputation, I listened to the warnings. I made my own mind up.

I do not regret it. I enjoyed it. I loved it. This man made me feel totally alive. Granted the mind games threw me for a while, but the minute I realised he was in fact emotionally damaged - ~I felt far more comfortable.

I don't feel sorry for myself. I do not feel used. I feel saddened that this man will be lonely. I feel saddened that he could be so much more. I feel saddened that he has an addiction that he can probably recognise but is not ready to deal with. I still believe that his feeling are honest but his feelings are the thing that scare him most.

Anyone that has to date to the degree he does is not happy. It is not about sex, it is about emotional commitment. Hand your emotions to someone else and they have the power to annihilate you. This is not a risk he can take. Hand your emotions to someone else and you risk being happy. Being happy risks being unhappy. Far too scary.

I know it, he knows it. Serial daters are not players. Players are in it for the game, for the sex. Serial daters are in it because they thing the answer lies in someone else, but that someone else never quite matches up. They can never match up - because if they did, they might see you for what you really are. Serial daters never feel good enough.

A repetitive cycle. Feel like you are not good enough. Date, dump, feel guilty. Guilt makes you feel a bit crappy about yourself, so you date someone else to get the high. And so it goes on. One day, probably in the next 5 years, my serial dater will wake up any realise that gnawing loneliness and unhappiness that leads him to constantly search out women - is eating away at him. Before he knows it, he will be 50 and alone.

Does this hurt me? No, it hurts him. I simply feel saddened.

I will not think badly of him. He is not gods gift to woman, he is emotionally immature. I cared about him, I will always care. He is a sensitive, complicated, unique man. Sadly, he is so wound up in his own thought process, that he is incapable of offering it to anyone else. Such a shame. In many ways he had the potential of being my perfect match. The only sadness is that it was simply potential.

He fascinates me. Serial dating fascinates me. It fascinates me that everyone would assume that I would hate a man because he is terrified of any form of emotional commitment. Granted, it would have been easier and less painful if he had been honest. And boy, was it painful. Here in lies the problem. If he was honest about his issues, then he would not be a serial dater. See, not really possible.

The dates of players, get wined, dined, lied to and shagged. The dates of serial daters get taken on an emotional roller coaster and spat out at the end. The dates of serial daters get over it. Serial daters don't. My serial dater was honest with me to the point he had to start being honest with himself.

I will never regret sleeping with a man who's house is painted in the same colour as mine. I will never regret sleeping with a man that googles every thing to the degree I do. I will never regret sleeping with a man that questions to the degree I do.

The only thing I regret, is that I ended up having to feel sorry for him

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