The only way I found to get through my day to day life involves refraining from asking attractive waitresses, baristas, female grocery store cashiers, and female staff at the Austin Clubhouse for dates, contact info, or making any other attempt, such as approaching them on social media, in an effort to get to know them better. That doesn't mean I don't approach ANYONE for social reasons, but it does mean that I don't approach many women for social reasons. This past year I approached that young woman who used to work at that business whom I can go on and on about, but I also approached a woman I knew from my music scene hangouts, and I approached that woman at Free Comic Book Day where I had a table at my friends' shop.
The young woman at that business falls under the category of waitress, barista, etc., but in approaching her I really, really raised the bar quite a bit as to what all it would take for me to even make a try for one of those types. I could not stop thinking about her for one, this whole cat and mouse thing with her had gone on for almost three years for another, and so the verbal invitation I offered to come see me at my comic book table last October served two purposes: 1) I really liked her and wanted to get to know her better, but also, 2) I put her on notice that this cat and mouse bullshit would soon end, and so it did.
So, I have a viable boundary in regards to the above mentioned types that I have no desire to cross at this time. I don't maintain this boundary out of shyness, inhibition, or lack of courage, because I will approach other types of women in other settings readily enough. At least enough to satisfy me in my mind that my boundaries with waitresses, baristas, etc., exist because I grew tired of these types acting as if I'd committed some gross affront towards them, and having to put up with mean games in retaliation for these supposed affronts.
If any waitress, barista, grocery store cashier, or Austin Clubhouse staff member wants to get to know me better, but it has to go down where I, Richard Alexander, SIMPLY MUST act as the initial breaker of the ice, well then, you're shit out of luck. But don't blame me, blame all of the shitty behavior I had to endure as a consequence of asking a fucking barista on date, or having a mental illness while grocery shopping, or what have you. Not "having a mental illness while grocery shopping" in the sense that I was psychotic while in the grocery store or anything, but just being a person with a mental illness who needs to buy groceries like everyone else.
The young woman at that business falls under the category of waitress, barista, etc., but in approaching her I really, really raised the bar quite a bit as to what all it would take for me to even make a try for one of those types. I could not stop thinking about her for one, this whole cat and mouse thing with her had gone on for almost three years for another, and so the verbal invitation I offered to come see me at my comic book table last October served two purposes: 1) I really liked her and wanted to get to know her better, but also, 2) I put her on notice that this cat and mouse bullshit would soon end, and so it did.
So, I have a viable boundary in regards to the above mentioned types that I have no desire to cross at this time. I don't maintain this boundary out of shyness, inhibition, or lack of courage, because I will approach other types of women in other settings readily enough. At least enough to satisfy me in my mind that my boundaries with waitresses, baristas, etc., exist because I grew tired of these types acting as if I'd committed some gross affront towards them, and having to put up with mean games in retaliation for these supposed affronts.
If any waitress, barista, grocery store cashier, or Austin Clubhouse staff member wants to get to know me better, but it has to go down where I, Richard Alexander, SIMPLY MUST act as the initial breaker of the ice, well then, you're shit out of luck. But don't blame me, blame all of the shitty behavior I had to endure as a consequence of asking a fucking barista on date, or having a mental illness while grocery shopping, or what have you. Not "having a mental illness while grocery shopping" in the sense that I was psychotic while in the grocery store or anything, but just being a person with a mental illness who needs to buy groceries like everyone else.
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