The truth behind dating.

If there’s an ordinary experience more agonizing than being romantically rejected without explanation, I’m not familiar with it.
Here’s what I am familiar with: the torment that comes when a person with whom I've had one of the best conversations of my life shows no interest in having another. Or when a person who when he kissed me drops completely out of contact without even having asked how I might feel about being used.
The pain certainly would be lessened if only I knew the answer to a simple, obvious question: What the hell happened? After all, as one of the characters in Sex and the city says, “If you love someone and you break up, where does the love go?” But as great as it would be to hold a brief interview whenever a dating situation goes wrong, it’s just not done. Which is odd, really, when you consider that requesting feedback is acceptable in so many other situations, such as interviewing for a new job (when, according to the career experts, we’re supposed to follow up with those who have declined to hire us).
In the dating world, however, we’re unable to know any reliable information about ourselves—your friends opinions do not count here— they will never give you a blow by blow of you might be causing people to flee. Instead, we are left to imagine the worst—which is certainly what I do. My mind turns on me like a witch out of a Disney movie, and I assume that the guy in question has seen me, warts and all. I assume, that is, that I’m not smart enough for a brilliant person, not clever enough for the successful man, not enough of a looker for the handsome prince.

This may, of course, have to do with my self-esteem, I’d always assumed that most people react this way—that matters of the heart turned us all into crazy people. But when I was discussing this with a friend, he said, “Now that you’re a little older Sarah, isn't it easier to see that when something doesn't work out, it’s just because you did not match?”
Clearly he is either in deny or well informed. But another friend said almost exactly the same thing. “You have to stop thinking that there’s something wrong with you, “she told me. “No time to waste if there is no spark”.
Much as I would love to believe in the Romantic side of me, it always leaves me questioning: If I thought some Mr. Wonderful was in with a chance, why didn't he feel the same?

Earlier this year, I encountered a man who told me more than my friends had ever: He convinced me, with his feedback, that the reason he hadn't fallen for me had nothing to do with a personal trait of mine, nor looks.
This guy was so attractive—with dark blonde hair (I never go for this hair type) and eyes any girl would swoon into—dressed better than anyone I have dated. His personality was rather amazing too: Instead of trading stories about ourselves, we spent the time I knew him mostly talking crap—or rather, he talked, and I listened ( as I think back now). And people I talk a lot. He also had a good, if quirky, sense of humor.
We went on three dates in total—and I enjoyed his company, though nothing that felt even close to a spark ever developed. After time I knew what this ‘relationship’ was, I didn't feel I wanted anymore. When I spoke with him he suggested that we might do better as friends. I agreed that it was a good idea. This was clearly just a case of not being right for each other.
Moments later, a little voice inside my head began nagging at me, saying: Why just friends so fast? Was there something about me he didn't like. I would soon find out exactly what it was.

In an attempt to begin a friendly chat while having mutually friends on a night out, during this conversation, I finally dared to make the conversation more personal, opening up about how I’d just ended something with someone, and revealing my real fear in a joking manner ‘ I wonder where I go wrong’.
He seemed very interested in my problems, “Look, I have a theory about why you’re having trouble meeting someone.”
“You’re smart, funny and not like other girls.” Foolishly I thought: Perhaps this won’t hurt. “And your career is pretty interesting,” he went on. “That wouldn't turn anyone off. And you’re...attractive.”  “But...”
The hairs on the back of my neck were raised. Attractive, but? But what?
He came out with it, in a rush. “Your too forward, I could never be on my toes with you. You said it as it was, and it left the chase and spark out of being a man chasing a lady”. He was right: I did that. If being too honest was the worst, I would be OK.
“But, that was always a thing I liked about you,” he continued. “Don’t get me wrong, it was great to meet a girl that didn't play games” He mentioned that an ex-girlfriend would do the whole wait ten mins to text back because he had taken five mins.

All of this was dangerously close to being told I was prefect but not perfect enough. His words struck me as slightly blown out, I agree to be a tad too honest. Had I being as up front as he acknowledged I would have said that his hair was thinning, a bit of a jerk at times, that ‘he lived in the shadow of his older, famous brother.’
This man had rejected me for things that I basically like about myself. Though I hadn't quite appreciated how we really were not suited for each other, it was perfectly clear to me afterward.
Or as my best-friend said, “He’s a bit of a jackass, isn't he?”

I've now asked for the other person’s views about why a first date didn't lead to a second?
One friend said, “He extended his arm for a handshake before he could kiss me, and took a day or two to respond after I messaged him the next morning to ask if you wanted to get together again”.

You don't want to spend the next hour explaining every reason why, and they don't want to hear it. Just because you don't like one (or several) aspects of their personality doesn't mean somebody else won't, and there's no sense in making you think who you are is bad. The only judgment you want to make is whether or not you love yourself enough to keep the chin up and keep on being the you, you love.