I’m going to tell you a story about a man I dated named Jacob.
Jacob was a textbook extrovert. He had a loud, infectious laugh, and an irreverent sense of humour.
He preferred the company of men – that was clear from the outset. He had an enormous group of friends, and an active social life. Part of me envied it.
But emotionally, he was completely withdrawn. I dug and dug hoping to find something, though I didn’t know what exactly. But I hit concrete. As I looked at him across the table at a restaurant one night, certain he hadn’t listened to anything I’d said for the last 20 minutes, I realised, “This is it – this is all there is to him.”
I didn’t break up with Jacob, of course. I just lived with the growing sense of inadequacy, knowing that nothing I said could ever keep his attention.
And after Jacob and I broke up, I dated ‘Jacob’ again. Not Jacob the person, but Jacob-the-type.
There was something very familiar and comfortable about The Jacob. I knew exactly what I was dealing with.
The thing about The Jacob, was that he did pursuing. I never had to leave my comfort zone. The Jacobs of the world come to you.
And then one day, after I’d been single for three years and had sworn firmly off The Jacobs, I began wondering about the men who, literally and figuratively, stood behind Jacob. The ones who don’t find approaching girls so effortless.
Albert Einstein famously said, “The definition of insanity is doing the same thing and expecting different results.”
And when it comes to dating, we’re all f*cking insane.