Strongly Worded

The Inconvience of Nice: Mr. Ponytail Returns

So you all remember Mr. Ponytail, right? He was the sweet, sweet guy with whom I went out twice, felt no chemistry, and then exchanged let's-be-friends emails. Since then we have met for a movie, and we continue to email as follows: he wants to correspond regularly. Me ... not so much.

Normally I love, love, love email. Before I started blogging, I'd send long messages to all my friends, not just when I had important news, but just to keep them updated on dumb everyday things (now the blog expedites this. My friends are informed, up-to-the-minute, about everything, especially the dumb things). When I lived in Spain I sent daily messages to my mom--now I have a veritable journal of that time. So you see that usually, in an email relationship, I'm the one writing the most, responding the soonest, etc.

However, this is not the case now. I notice that Mr. Ponytail writes a lot, and writes often. He asks endearing questions about my work (which is rare and wonderful), and writes about his news, and proposes outings.

For some reason, this has become a burden. I squirm when I see his name in my inbox, and I avoid writing back until not doing so becomes rude. I do not feel like writing a whole manifesto about a public hearing or the progress of the proposal I'm working on (interesting, since I do that for you all on a very regular basis.) While I genuinely do want to see the movies we've discussed, the whole things feels inconvenient to me. Seeing my current friends takes major priority over hanging out with him, and also, as sweet and nice as he is (I can't say that enough) he's a little dull. I've realized that the reason I'm not into him romantically, or even friend-ishly (besides the ponytail) is that he has no Edge.

For me, Edge is an absolute requirement in a guy (and a friend, now that I think of it). A lot of women don't need it--avoid it--or don't understand it. And Edge is hard to define. It's a cynical streak, a little subtle bitchiness, a somewhat wicked sense of humor. Edge is not mean. It's not demeaning. It's just, to be totally cliched, the salt that brings out the flavor (and, in human terms, complements the goodness and sweetness that makes me love someone). I need to be with someone who isn't nice all the time and doesn't expect constant niceness from me.

So. Mr. Ponytail has no Edge. Very nice guy, but no go. And yet I've put myself in the situation where I feel obligated to write to him (he writes me pretty long emails, and, obviously, I can't just refer him to my blog for updates about me), feel obligated to see him, and--please don't think I'm an egomaniac--I feel the tiniest worry that maybe he's holding out to see if I might fall in love with him despite my clear indications to the contrary. The reason for this worry is that I told him specifically to repost his sweet and lovely Internet personal ad, and he has not.

So. I find myself with regular witty, well-written messages from him, which are equally nice and detailed and prompt regardless of the brevity and lapse in my responses.

Suggestions?

Posted by Dori at 9:14 AM