My self-imposed clusterf* of a hell week

You haven't heard much from me because I've been in headless-chicken mode. I had a fantastic long weekend with friends, but the drive took a lot out of me. Then I spent the next few days working late, sleeping poorly, and spending half my free time cooking and baking things for work events and the rother half running to non-work events. It was a week of misses, from the botched chili for the chili cook-off at work (the quinoa drained the flavor, making the chili bland) to the bad date (bad because I was a mess). Now, botched chili is not a tragedy--I had to make chili because I'm on the social committee at work (don't ask) and this was our event, and not that many people signed up to cook--but cooking misses make me sad. The bad date, however... I rarely meet interesting guys with personality, who look like Jon Hamm (except possibly more attractive). How do I botch the opportunity when it actually arises?


Here's how:

Monday: after driving home (over three hours), I cleaned the house and ran back out to pick up an online order (girl needs her wine aerator) and get the chili ingredients. Soaked the beans overnight.

Tuesday: cooked the beans in the morning, left the house, thought (once I got to work) that I couldn't be 100 percent sure I'd turned the beans off, didn't have time to go home (at that point, it would have been too late, anyway). Worked late, came home to the stove-top off, house still standing, cat still alive (woo hoo!). Made chili. Made muffins for my friend's baby shower. Made date arrangements for the following evening--an event I was already going to that he was interested in.

Wednesday: lugged massive crockpot, lots of chili, and a dozen muffins to work by metro (try it). Scrambled to get a ton of work done; ate too much at the chili-cookoff, couldn't think about food for the rest of the day. Got home frazzled, picked up CSA veggies, drove onward to meet the guy. He got there before I did; I felt bad. Whole evening's awkward, even though nothing was awkward when we first met the week before. But that night, I was a neurotic mess, and whenever I looked over at him, I saw a horrified or confused facial expression. I wondered whether he wanted to do something else after the movie got out, but he didn't say anything so I offered him a ride, maybe before he really has a chance to ask. So I drive him to the metro. I'm not good at driving and conversing at the same time, especially when it's dark and when I don't know where I'm going.

Did I tell you guys about the time I got kidnapped by this needy woman? She and I were both in the same evening class. She always struck me as a little off. One night, she offered me a ride, and I politely declined. She offered again, insisting that it wouldn't be a problem for her. I must have sensed, in the back of my mind, that she'd reframed the issue, but I didn't ascertain it consciously in time to respond accordingly--i.e., to say, "it's not that I don't appreciate your offering me a ride, but I really would prefer to walk." Instead, I took her up on a ride to the metro, which was ten or so blocks away. She drove right by it, so I said, "okay, could you drop me at Foggy Bottom" and then it was "Rosslyn" and then, the next thing I knew, we were out of the city. She said she was getting so distracted by the conversation that she was missing these stops. I pulled myself together and firmly but politely directed her to the next exit, where she could turn around and take me to the nearest metro. I contemplated jumping out of the car when she slowed down, but it was fine; eventually she did take me to a metro. I don't know how I let myself get into a car with her, even as I saw through her from the start. She was a very lonely woman with poor social skills, who would take any opportunity for a literally captive audience.

So, I'm driving, and this guy in the passenger seat looks frightened, and I think, "oh, no, I hope he doesn't think he's been kidnapped by a crazy woman." All this while he's actually trying to ask me out again, but I miss the signal because I'm thinking of the kidnapping story and also because I have to switch lanes suddenly. I drop him off. He says he'll be in touch. I nod, but I doubt it. I'm disappointed, deflated.

I start to wonder whether I'm not still scarred from my last relationship, not out of lingering feelings for my ex--I assure you there are none--but because I overcorrected the mistakes I'd made. But maybe some of those mistakes were an issue only because (1) my ex was a gutless wonder who lacked initiative or (2) the two of us were fundamentally incompatible. Yes, it was a mistake to plan so much, initiate so much, when F. and I started dating--to never put him in the position of coming up with plans because I always had a play to see or a party to go to that I could just invite him to. I tried to correct course early on--I even asked him flat-out, repeatedly, to come up with stuff for us to do--but he never did. And then he threw it back in my face--told me I was fitting him into my life rather than planning for what he actually wanted to do. I don't want to be the one making all the plans, but I'm also not going to wait around for a guy to invite me to things before making plans. Does this make me seem too busy?

I revel in the irony that I'd love to be better at repelling men I'm not interested in. Is that irony, or is there causality? What now? The he's-just-not-that-into-you extreme of "only mirror; don't communicate first, ever," and the "f* that" view that why should it be the guy who always puts his ego on the line.

But back to my week...

Thursday: I work, it's busy. Relentless. When I first foolishly overbooked the week, I figured I could leave a little early every day... but I couldn't. After a late meeting across town, I ended up jumping out of the cab on the way back to the office--in my coworker's words, into traffic--to just get on the metro so I could get to the next thing (volunteer gig). I make it to everything on time, just barely, but all the running around for over a week has taken a toll on my energy.

Before long, the question of whether I'd cleared the emotional damage from my last ex yielded to the question of whether I'd cleared all the emotional damage from mom, otherwise, why am I wondering, "Was it because my hair was a mess? Was it because he hadn't seen me eat, maybe thought I had an eating disorder, didn't know I was vegan so there was nothing there for me (it was a cinema where you could order food and drinks), and I was stuffed from the cookoff? Was it because I apologized too much, made too many disclaimers (sorry I'm late, sorry my car is messy, etc.)?" Has mom so trained me to apologize for myself for all the ways I ever inconvenience anyone, ever, that I give off a sense of insecurity, even though, really, I'm a quite confident person?

Friday: Work, a lot, but manage to get things under control. Go to a show and get home late, tired, deflated-again. Why do I do this to myself??

I make a choice to let the dating debacle go. I may have bad hair, and if that's all it takes to turn someone off, well, whatever. Giving someone the impression that I have deep-seated emotional issues is another matter. The truth is, and I've long known this, I come off as a lot more stressed and frazzled than I actually am, and I was pretty frazzled as it was. I understand, more than ever, the value of the 'mood-changing' ritual one should engage in between work and a date. But what it keeps coming down to is, there's an integral part of me that's a frazzled, neurotic hot mess. It's who I am and I make it work. Someone who can't handle it is not right for me.

What other lessons do I draw from this? That I might want to be more forgiving of men who are awkward? Figure out when I'm in no state to be around people, and not go out during those times? All of the above?