Automatic Negative Thoughts

I've been fighting back sadness all week, telling myself it's hormones, or maybe it's sequela of my hypothyroidism. But I'm losing the battle against the funk and it's either write about it, or drown it in beer.

There are two incidences I can't stop thinking about. The sad thing is, they aren't even recent; neither of them occurred within the last month. They didn't bother me at the time, but now the words are running through my mind like an endless string of train cars: He isn't attracted to you. I don't like you. He isn't attracted to you. I don't like you.

Several months ago when Schmoozer and Katie had first started dating, he decided to bring along his best friend to one of our little meet ups to set us up. Only Schmoozer is a dude. A dude who chose to introduce us after my kickball game, so I was dressed in a unisex t-shirt, gym shorts, a ponytail, and a red, sweaty face. NOT THE TIME TO BE MEETING DUDES. And I didn't know he was bringing his friend, so I had no chance to prepare.

I had no chance at all. Schmoozer's best friend is gorgeous: tall, slender, chiseled face.

Schmoozer had been telling me about him over the months: he dates younger girls because he's so pretty, but Schmoozer thinks someone his own age would be good for him. Someone who is outgoing and would drag him out of his shell. Someone who wouldn't put up with his bullshit, because he tends to be cranky. At the time, Schmoozer thought of me and he introduced us.

His friend left the bar booth to use the restroom. I swatted Schmoozer's shoulder. "He's cute!"

"It wouldn't work out."

"Why?"

"Because he's angry all the time."

"Oh no, I wouldn't want that." I sat there in silence for a minute, thinking about Schmoozer telling me about the guy and his sudden appearance at our little outing. I remembered I had left the table earlier, leaving them alone together.

"He's not attracted to me, is he?" I asked suddenly.

"It just wouldn't work out," Schmoozer repeated.

"Because he's not attracted to me."

Schmoozer didn't respond. It was all the confirmation I needed.

At the time, I shrugged it off. I was still online dating. I had just joined a new kickball league. It was his loss and I truly believed it. At the time.

Only I've been spending a lot of time with Schmoozer and his bestie lately. Happy hours. Workday lunches. Parties. And I haven't been out on a date in months. And the kickball season ended after everything blew up in my face. And he's still gorgeous.

And every time I see him, I'm reminded that's he's not attracted to me. It's such a defeating sentiment. There's nothing I can do about that: I can't change the curve of my chin or the tilt of my nose.

We've been e-mailing the past two days. Yesterday it was entirely in French. Or rather, he was having a conversation with me in French and I was having a conversation with Google Translator and a Dollar-to-Euro converter, despite having hosted 2 French teenage boys for the summer during the 1996 Olympics.

Today he's e-mailing me with a plot to mess with Schmoozer. But every time his name appears in my inbox, I read I'm not attracted to you. It's wearing on me.

The other incident that occurred was with Hot Douchebag. And really, with a name like Hot Douchebag, I shouldn't be surprised with how things turned out. But after several conversations and games of flip cup at the weekly bar, I sent him a Facebook friend request after he popped up in my "People You May Know." Why, yes, Facebook, I do know him!

The request went unanswered. I saw him a week later and told him I friend-requested him.

"I know," he said. "But I don't know you."

"She's right here!" piped up my girlfriend, who used to sleep with him.

"And what I do know about you, I don't like," he finished.

Yeeeeeeeeeeesh. That was humiliating.

We have a ton of mutual friends and people ask why I visibly stiffen when his name is brought up. Because that dude hates me, that's why.

Last night I was at Screen on the Green and I see him approach with his girlfriend. We eye each other across the field and I quickly look away and smiled at the person next to me. Mutual friends get up from our blankets and invite him over and he's walking toward me and all I can think is I don't like you in beat of the step he's taking towards me. We eye each other again. I look away again. I don't like you. I don't like you. I don't like you...

A few weeks ago when these thoughts first started, I removed myself even further from the dating game. Not only am I not dating, I'm no longer flirting. There's no point. I'm neither attractive nor likable. I'm just going to sit out like a fat girl in gym.

And to be fair, I'm not telling the story where the girlfriend of one of my kickball buddies approached me on her own with the idea to set me up with one of her guyfriends, who I'm told is cute and also a writer. Intellectually I know I'm not a social pariah. I know I have made other friends. There will be other guys.

I just can't stop these automatic negative thoughts from circling my mind. The damage I'm doing is to myself. They only said these things to me once. I'm saying them to myself on repeat.