Scotoma

Well, this week has been interesting to say the least.

Initially I was sure I had made a positive impression on A, and that a second would be on the cards. However, the old familiar feelings of negativity and self-doubt started creeping back by Sunday afternoon, further exacerbated by the fact that the texts stopped dead. Should I text him? No way, I would look desperate. I was afraid of the inevitable rejection, so decided to take pre-emptive action and... take no action. At work on Monday, Michael and Rob reminded me about the distinction between “girl time” and “boy time”, and advised me to wait until Wednesday to attempt to resume contact with A.

However I didn’t have time to dwell a moment longer, as on Tuesday I was to begin a two day workshop held by my university’s graduate college scheme. The workshop was entitled ‘Staying Motivated’. I had originally signed up to break up the monotony of my working week, and to take advantage of the free food and drink on offer. However, the workshop more than exceeded my expectations. The workshop was a truncated version of a similar course run by the Pacific Institute. Some of the things covered were tips on raising ones self-esteem, stretching comfort zones, and how to set goals and make affirmations. I will definitely write about it in greater detail at a later date.

The central concept was the Law of Attraction. Essentially, this is the belief that “like attracts like”. If we focus on negative thoughts, then we bring about negative results. Therefore, we need to think positive thoughts to bring about positive results. This may seem like the most obvious and simplistic thing ever, but I never realised just how damaging my own thoughts are, and how they’re holding me back.

Another thing I learnt is that we have scotomas (blind spots) in the way we perceive our surroundings. I’ll demonstrate what I mean by this. Read the sentence below as quickly as you can, and count the number of F’s that you see:

Finished files are the result of years of scientific study combined with the experience of many years.

So, how many? Three? Four? There are actually six. Our brains scan through and pick out the hard F sounds, but disregard the soft Fs. It's like a filter, meaning we only retain the information that is important to us, as it would be impossible to process all the millions of images, smells, sounds, etc that we are bombarded with every day. For example, if you went shopping for a red top, you would upon entering the store automatically scan for red tops. You could not tell me how many blue tops you saw, as you were blind to them.

I realised this week that this is a perfect analogy for my lack of success with the male species. I have been lamenting the lack of decent men for months. Or at least, the lack of men interested in me. It turns out I have simply been blind to them. With this knowledge I left the workshop on Thursday afternoon, and headed for the bus home. The usual bus was pulling away before I could reach the stop, so I hopped on the next one. And then I saw him.

He was the most gorgeous man I’ve seen in real life for quite some time. He was sitting near the window with a vacant seat next to him. I stupidly opted for the vacant seat opposite. Our eyes locked, and I thought I detected the tiniest of smiles. I quickly looked away into my hands. When I thought it was safe, I snuck a look back at him, and was surprised to see he was doing the same. We both quickly turned away. This continued for the entire journey, with every move mirrored by the other. I felt my heart start to race, and my palms were sweaty. After months of being blind to infatuation, it was a heady feeling to have all my senses filled up by a complete stranger. An internal dialogue ensued: “He’s definitely looking at me.. but why? Maybe he’s clocked the spot on my chin.. no wait.. think positive.. I am a strong, confident woman.. look at him again. You have a notepad. Write down your number and slip it in his hands. Quickly. Oh look here’s your stop. Well done, you’ve missed your chance”. So as I rose to disembark I flashed him one last smile, which he returned enthusiastically. I smiled at him again through the window. And then he was gone.

I ran home giggling, it was an incredible feeling. Rather than be disappointed I had not taken the chance to talk to him, I chose to feel positive, happy that my scotoma was finally gone. The encounter with the man on the bus set in motion a chain of events. I realised that I had been living a life free of risk, for fear of falling, and being hurt by an object of my affection. I now felt empowered remembering how gloriously exhilarating it feels to immerse ones self in something new and exciting. I logged onto POF and decided for the first time ever to find someone I liked and message him first. And so to cut a short story even shorter, tonight I have a date with M. M is a pilot (!), and although conversation hasn’t exactly flowed like the great Niagara, he’s pretty easy on the eye. Plus did I mention he’s a pilot?!

So what about A? Well I finally text him Friday, and he got back to me quick as a flash. We’re going out again sometime soon, so I’m no longer afraid he just thought I was a mental case. Maybe he was afraid like me. But in the words of Kevin McCallister: “I’m not afraid anymore!”