#9 It's a Number Game

This past week I slowed myself down in terms of dating. I joined a new gym, had my last hypnotherapy appointment, and decided to focus on myself and the independence gleaned from being single. It was my final hypnotherapy session for two reasons. The first being that as I began my regular consultation beforehand, I realized that I was on my way to achieving the goals we had set out to accomplish when I first began. And I had been the one behind the transformation. She hadn't had anything to do with it for several months. This was empowering for me to realize just as I was about to be put under for another session. As I was feeling this empowerment take over, she made a big mistake that solidified my decision to go it alone. My hypnotist decided to install some triggers in my brain that we didn't discuss beforehand. Messing with my brain is bad enough, but messing with it to fundamentally change who I identified myself as was intolerable. My subconscious battled fiercely and responded in my skull with a resounding, "Oh, HELL no!" as she began to suggest that I start associating the taste of olives (which I detest) with some of my favorite foods such as french fries, chinese, and ice cream. She made me eat an entire imaginary plate of the 4 foods mixed together as one big mushy casserole. My subconscious was strong though and rejected the suggestion as I proved later in the week by eating all 3 foods, though not all at the same time. For a split second, I was nervous that the first bite of any of them would repulse my taste buds and immediately leave me gagging in the corner and thus meaning that she had won. Luckily though, that didn't happen. I left the session politely saying that I'd be back although I knew at that point that I wouldn't. I was on my way to being happy and strong and I had done that without her. It was liberating to figure that out and see what a different place I'm in now compared to months ago when I first started seeing her. I was an independent woman now. I can do it. "I am strong, I'm invincible, I am Woman." Ok, well, I'm not a woman, but there aren't really any songs that talk about male liberation besides old Viking ditties and I don't speak norwegian.
Friday was my day off and I had planned on going on a date with one of two guys. The first guy told me he couldn't make it and the other guy has yet to text me back as to whether he wants to do "friday wine night." Sure, it's been three days, but maybe he's really backed up on text messages. Since neither date night worked out, I decided to have wine night myself and relax at home trying out a new recipe from the pile of cookbooks that I never use. I compiled my list of ingredients and headed to the supermarket near my apartment. The moment I walked in, I noticed an attractive gay guy pushing a cart just ahead of me. My mind began racing. So this is where the cute unattached gay men spend their friday nights. Of course, the supermarket is a great place to meet somebody. You take one look in their cart or basket and can tell so much about them right away. For instance, if he has a lot of vegetables or spends time in the produce section, I assume that he's a good cook. Or if he has ice cream, I figure that we could share a pint together. However, the dark thoughts sometimes take control and before I knew it I was seeing other things like,
"You've been staring at the trail mix for 5 minutes. It's not a difficult decision."
or
"Gluten free aisle? Next!"
or
"That's a lot of Cucumbers....I hope they're only for eating..."

Pushing those images out of my head, I focused on what was in front of me. A handsome guy pushing a cart by himself shopping, like me, on a friday night. This was the place to be single on a friday. So much for clubs and bars. As I followed safely behind the unsuspecting gay, what magnificent sight appears before my eyes? Another attractive gay walking right towards me. How could I have missed this place for so long? The Handsome guy #2 approached with a smile on his face and put the few cans he was carrying into the cart of Handsome guy #1 before placing his hand on the small of #2's back as they meandered their way toward baking supplies. A little disheartened, I continued my trek collecting all of my ingredients for my first attempt at making chinese food. Just minutes into my trek, Handsome #3 rounded a corner directly followed by Handsome #4. Apparently 3 goes with 4 so I set out to find #5 in the poultry section where he had already taken up with #6. Sure that #7 would be in the cooking oils, I discovered him instead in the jams where he was joined by his wife discussing what peanut butter they wanted. Becoming more and more frustrated that everyone had a significant other appear out of nowhere and mildly concerned that the count from Sesame Street was fucking with me, I focused solely on collecting the rest of my groceries. Having crossed off the final item off my list, I walked right into Handsome #8. I feigned interest in strawberry jam for a few minutes waiting for his boyfriend to round the corner. When no boyfriend arrived, I began plotting my careful, "oh, excuse me....I just need to grab that can directly in front of where you're standing...haha, what a coincidence," when Handsome #9 dropped by to tell his "honey" that he found it. Whatever the "it" was he found, "it" was almost me hitting on his boyfriend that he found. Aborting my mission and heading to the checkout, I became really self-conscious. Yes, there were a lot of people at the store on a friday night shopping for dinner. But I seemed to be the only single one. Were they judging my dinner for one? Did they see something in my cart that made them immediately think, "Aha, that's why he's here by himself. Lay off the Cheddar Bunnies, loner!" The problem with spending so much of my time and energy on being alone, living alone, and going out alone is that in the end, I am alone. All of the feminism and independence talk is fantastic but only if you truly believe it. The grocery store incident makes me really wonder if I am truly empowered. If I were, why would I spend so much time waiting for a #?
the end, by sean