#NerdsUnite: Confessions of an Overdreamer (Sometimes I Miss My Imaginary Boyfriends)

 

<editorsnote> Nerds, meet my buddy Megan. (Yes, another one!) I met her at the #20SB summit in Chicago, and she's a really really really rad chica. She's here today to tell you about a little problem that she has. Megan is what we would call an over-dreamer. Not an overachiever because an overachiever actually achieves something ... Megan dreams, and that's it. And these are her stories ... HIT IT MEGAN!! </editorsnote>

#TalkNerdyToMeLover's @mahannay

Up until my early twenties, I was scared to talk to most boys. Literally. Scared. Frightened. Afraid of. Red-faced. Shaky. Stammery. Unwitty. Like – I’d rather talk to a hungry T-Rex or Charles Manson than a halfway decent-looking boy my age. And the cute ones? Oh dear god.

 

I know this is a common problem for kids and teenagers. Everyone gets a little nervous around the opposite sex. But for me, it was beyond that. I didn’t date until I was 21 because I was … let’s call it “below grade level” …  at communicating with boys. 

Every time a guy would talk to me, some part of my brain would turn off. One time, in 10th grade chemistry class, I my crush-of-the-year, Richard stood next to my desk and said “what’s up?” I couldn’t think of anything to say back, so I just stammered and stared. He never asked me “what’s up?” again.

Another time, I found myself repeating a very unfunny joke, very loudly about ten times to my girlfriend (who kept not getting the bad joke), just hoping that my church crush would overhear. And when I say “found myself,” I really do mean that. It’s like the common sense side of Megan went to sleep, and when she woke up, she was yelling a bad joke in the middle of youth group.

Okay, self-deprecating part over. I promise this whole post isn’t about what a loser shy girl I was in high school and most of college.

It’s actually more about what being an overdreamer and a shy girl did to my perception of boys and dating.  Just because I didn’t date any of the boys in my high school doesn’t mean I didn’t like any of them. In fact, I really liked some of them. And since we weren’t having real conversations, most of my early interactions with boys occurred in my imagination.

Many girls still do this. We see a hot guy and wonder what he’d be like on a date or what he’d be like in bed. We start dating a guy and think “what if we were married?” – even if we’re years away from marriage. (I mean, if you’ve been dating a dude for four months, and the thought of one day walking down an aisle with him at the end of it is enough to send you into vomiting spasms of horror, you may want to reconsider the seriousness of the relationship.)

But the one thing we all learn pretty quickly is that the imaginary conversations are nothing like the real ones. Most girls learn this around age 15. I had to wait until age 21. So, at 24, I’m sometimes still getting used to it.

Imaginary boys never leave conversations ambiguous. They always know just what to say, and how come their hair always looks amazing too? You know another thing about imaginary boys? They always agree with me! They’re always on the same page! Amazing, they are. Was I hoping for a surprise trip? Imaginary boy was planning one!  

Sometimes I think that spending so many years speculating about dating led me to having ridiculously high expectations for non-imaginary boys. By the time I actually started dating, I was a romantic to the core. Sweet gestures, lovely words, special songs – they were my kryptonite. I actually ended up dating a guy who was perfectly wrong for me just because his charm was almost at imaginary boy level (lesson learned – in real life, always be a bit wary of the charmers).

In my next posts, I’ll explain how my imagination has dominated each of my three major romantic relationships. From the first love I could never leave (even after he broke up with me on Valentine’s Day) to the current long-distance boyfriend that I still have an imaginary version of (healthy? too much? you can judge).

In the meantime, I say to my (maybe not-so) imaginary audience – Happy Friday!

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