In Chase Me. Don’t Chase Me., Maggie Lamar offers up her nutty, sometimes off-kilter relationship history with heart and dry wit – all in an attempt to help you find your way, to help you feel a little less alone, and to help you discover a bit more of yourself on your own journey to love everlasting (and to hopefully help you kiss a few less frogs).
With honesty, forthright humility and a large dollop of humor, she combs through her own dating life to glean hard-won lessons about life, love and men – because when you can learn from an experience, you can grow from it. When an experience serves you, it strengthens you.
And hey, if it doesn’t serve or strengthen at least you can have a good laugh.
“It’s My Therapist’s Fault” Boy
THE SCENE
I’m sitting in a snug little office. It is late summer and a hot breeze is floating in through the window, bringing with it the promise of sunshine, BBQ and laughter. The office is peaceful, tranquil almost, with taupe dominating the color palette and a water fixture gurgling happily in the corner.
My mind is in direct conflict with the environment due to the task my therapist has just assigned me. She sits before me relaxed and confident, sure that the thing she just asked of me won’t kill me. I’m not convinced.
Over the past few weeks, we had wandered through subject after subject in my life. I hadn’t been prepared to cry, but on numerous occasions I had made use of the box of Kleenex that always sat by my side. He was a stalwart little fellow, always there when I needed him and never yet running out of tissues.
I knew of course that we would eventually get around to the subject of dating. When a girl of nineteen is feeling depressed after her first two years of college, it’s inevitable that some well-meaning adult assumes it’s because of a breakup, an infatuation or a love affair gone wrong. I knew this wasn’t true in my case but I was still curious about what advice my therapist could give on the matter—mostly because I was thoroughly convinced that boys just didn’t like me.
This tinderbox of a topic is finally our focus today and as we tiptoe around in the tulips, I decide it will be much easier to just cut to the chase. When I voice my deep-seated belief that boys just don’t like me, my therapist looks at me as if I have just sprouted horns. She pauses to collect herself and then begins to point out all that I have to offer in a relationship. When it is clear that I’m not buying any of it, she asks me the question that no one has ever asked me, the question that throws my mind into chaos, the question that changes everything.
“Do you flirt with boys?”
It is my turn to stare at her as if the devil has just taken over her body. I search her face for several seconds and this reconnaissance tells me two things. First, she is completely in earnest. Second, she doesn’t think the question she has posed is outlandish, crazy or irrational. I can read in her expression clarity of mind and I am dumbfounded.
“Of course not. Why would I do that?”
She attempts to cover her expression of “AHA!” but she is not quick enough and I feel my defensive guard rising up. I despise it when I’m on the receiving end of an “AHA!” look as it is always accompanied by a dash of pity with a smidge of “I Know Better Than You” thrown in there. I despise this look because it makes me feel like I’ve been doing something wrong when I thought, when I had been so sure, I was doing things right.
My therapist, as any good therapist does, follows up her seeming light-bulb moment with a question.
“Why wouldn’t you do that?”
As I pause to prepare an answer, it suddenly feels as if an entire stereotype is crashing down around me. In the span of about fifteen seconds, I realize that nestled next to the “Boys Don’t Like Me” lie in my brain is another equally ridiculous falsehood—I have sincerely believed that girls who flirt are all blonde cheerleaders whose main concerns are their hair, nails and wardrobes. I have believed that girls who flirt are shallow, vapid and low on intelligence. I have believed that girls who flirt are everything that I am fighting not to be, and therefore I have ruled out any sort of behavior in my life that in any way mimics or mirrors theirs. In essence, I have believed that flirting is evil and, after bringing all that hidden prejudice into the harsh light of day, I now realize that I am totally wrong.
My therapist watches me as I silently sort through all of this. When I bring my eyes back up to hers, she encourages (more like chides) me to not lump all the behaviors I have seen in girls I do not respect into the same category. After all, how are these girls getting guys? Flirting, of course. Flirting is a necessary part of the dating process.
As I listen, my long-entrenched stereotype fights courageously against every word she says, but my brain cannot defy her logic. I realize I have been missing a pivotal piece in the puzzle of relationships (not to mention been incredibly hard on my own sex). If I never flirt, if I never show interest in a guy, what motivation does he have to pursue me? What teenage boy, indeed what boy ever, would chase after a girl who is giving him every indication that she would reject him? I know the answer to that question. Zero. My dating life was currently a woefully accurate portrait of this fact.
With the shreds of my long-held stereotype swirling around me, I am hopeful that my therapist will end things here and give me time to digest the messy and disparate thoughts that are jockeying for position in my brain. Instead, she calmly looks at me and takes things an additional step further.
“We are running out of time today, but I want you to do something for me this week.”
I sit up a bit straighter. The people pleaser in me is standing at full attention, ready to do whatever she asks as quickly and perfectly as I can.
“I want you to flirt with someone. Anyone. As shamelessly and brazenly as possible.”
My shoulders slump as my mouth falls open in shock. Immediately, a cold, clammy fear starts warring with my innate desire to do as I am told. I stare at her for several seconds.
Flirt? Me? What the hell?
Copyright © 2023 Maggie Lamar
All rights reserved.
Author bio:
Maggie Lamar is the author of the newly released Chase Me. Don't Chase Me. - The Relational Musings of an Emotional, Conflicted, Contrary Woman. When she is not lost in the pages of a new book or overanalyzing the results of a personality quiz, she attempts to contribute to the overall health and happiness of the world in sunny Los Angeles.
I'm currently only on Instagram - @maggielamar15
https://www.instagram.com/maggielamar15/
I'm currently doing an Amazon exclusive so it's only available there at the moment. Here is the link -
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