Yoga class the other day was frustrating. The reason I go back to this particular teacher is because she always ties the practice to a theme. Friday’s theme was – very appropriately – negative self-talk.
I’ve said this before: when I don’t execute a particular goal perfectly it perfectly the first time out, I get very frustrated. Worse, I put myself down. So there we were, doing tree pose, and I was teetering left and tottering right trying to stay upright.. Between my pancake-flat feet, lack of arches, and torn ligaments in both ankles due to being hit by a car (left ankle) and coming down from a spike in volleyball (right ankle), I struggle to balance my weight on one foot. Now, none of these things are my fault, but I couldn’t help but feel inadequate each time I tried and failed to hold the pose.
Is it my weight?
Is it my body?
Am I just not any good at this? Will I ever be?
In rushed the negative self-talk. Then today I took another class with a different teacher. I knew when she was five minutes late to class that I wasn’t going to like her. At one point I wasn’t doing the correct pose. From the middle of the room she said, “You, in the back” then made her way over to assist me with the pose. Thanks for that, by the way. Really appreciate being singled out in that manner. When she told us all to watch the pregnant woman in the class nail a pose “even with her big belly” I was mentally done. I’ll never return to her class. Speaking of yoga, after I hit my goal of attending six classes, I rewarded myself with this:
— ATWYSingle ® (@ATWYSingle) April 6, 2017
I love the material, but it’s a bit sheer and offers no support to my breasts. I’d have to wear a bralette of some kind underneath. My goal is to do the Equinox Firestarter class in June without collapsing on the floor gasping for breath.
Now for some dirt…
As fate would have it – Gym Guy and I crossed paths as I was leaving the other day. Before I could reach the door to exit the gym, the woman checking in members called me back to the desk to ask me where I bought my leggings and top. There on the screen in front of me was Gym Guy’s profile, with his full name in clear view. I committed it to memory and went on my way, eager to get to work.
On my walk home I typed his name into Facebook and up popped his profile. Pros: He’s single. Cons: When he’s not bleary-eyed and hat-haired, he – like Derek Zoolander – is really, really ridiculously good-looking. Think Jeffrey Dean Morgan with a little Adrien Grenier thrown in for measure.
I knew he was good looking, but I had no idea just how good looking he was because when I see him he always looks like he fell out of bed.
Oh, he’s also younger than I approximated, making my gushing that much more pathetic. As an astute reader of my private posts noted, his Instagram is sprinkled with comments from women cryptically-but-not hinting at the fact that they’ve fucked him or want to. I can’t say I blame them. Who wouldn’t brag about sleeping with him? To his credit (or maybe I’m giving him too much benefit of the doubt) he never acknowledges these comments. While I think he is acutely aware of his hotness, I don’t think it crosses over into arrogant territory. (Again, take that with a grain of salt.) He seems like a genuinely nice person.
This man is trophy-husband hot. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to sleep with him just to say that I did and prove something to all the nay sayers who like to mock the fact that I was a successful dating advice columnist who critiqued other people’s inabilities to find love but couldn’t keep a guy around long herself. Because let’s face it: One inexplicably hot person in the bed is like five in the bush. Or something. I’ll call anyone out for lying if they say they’d get no personal satisfaction from posting a photo of themselves cozying up to someone they know others would covet. What am I saying? I’m saying that, at times, I am riddled with self-doubt and wish I had a man to trot around on social media to make myself feel better. There. I said it.
The self-doubt is not helped when I wake up to bitchy comments from readers., like this one:
My advice…stop listening to Moxie! She’s very logical and very smart. BUT, she’s very unsuccessful in dating. And is a bit unhappy about working on this column…
She ignores her own advice, asks “How do I Look?” posts, yet argues with reasonable comments that are less than complimentary to her. She even asked for honest feedback on her dating website pics and commentary, then blasted those who had honest and respectful suggestions.
BUT, she offers to make YOUR profiles better so you can get more hits. Maybe they are better, but how are your profiles doing? PS – Porn shots don’t count….
She also ignores her own advice. Ignore him! Don’t approach him! My favorite is, “if he’s difficult, delete, if he wants to meet at a coffee shop across town, delete!, If he says you’re pretty, delete! If he asks if you workout, delete!
Gee, who gets a break? There is no relaxing, meeting someone for coffee (there’s something wrong with him!), or not drinking (if you don’t drink, just stay home!). I’m pretty easygoing….until I’m not.
For me? I’m out. I’m sure you won’t miss me because I rarely, rarely post. BUT, this is an interesting blog only because this woman is a personal NOT TO DO list.
I can’t really argue her points, can I? I am unsuccessful at dating. The past five years have been a wash because I was far too broken down from trauma and family infighting and grief to muster the energy to date much at all. But if you asked me a question about your love life I’d dissect it with razor-sharp insight and lay it all out for you. I have no problem stating that nobody – nobody – who deemed themselves an “expert” on matters of the app delivered such incisive feedback. I was better than good. Would I go as far as to say I was a personal not to do list in my own dating travails? No. Not by a longshot. I have blindspots like everyone else. Thanks to the depression, my emotional state was weakened, leaving me susceptible to the insecurity that occurs when one experiences rejection. And let’s be honest, for many online dating is a steady stream of rejection.
Another point from the comment that I have to agree with is that writing that blog every day made me unhappy. I can now say will full confidence that my happier mental state today is due to taking a step back from that column. Twice a week posts are enough for me. I could not and would not do a daily column again if you paid me. Writing it was nothing more than a reminder that I was single and struggling. And miserable. Not feeling the pressure to write that column every day freed me to do other things, things I enjoy. Who knew that doing things you liked made you happy?
But despite the steady stream of calm and inner peace I feel, I still combat nagging self-doubt in moments of weakness. Seeing the objectively hot women that Gym Guy hooks-up with and listening to comments from readers hammering home the fact that he’s gorgeous – possibly too gorgeous for the likes of me – totally slapped me over the head with some much-needed reality.
So, now that the flame of my crush has been snuffed out, I’m a little sad. But – and this is the best part – I’m not sad enough that I head to that place in my mind where I beat myself up. Eh, it was fun while it lasted. Next.
That’s the old me, the woman who took things on the chin and rebounded quickly. I remember her.
I’ve missed her.