It was only two dates.
He didn’t even kiss me.
…Shoulda been my first clue, I guess.
We went for a walk. Then a few days later, we went out for coffee at Second Cup and closed the joint down. He said in the parking lot he wanted to see me again, but, obviously — not so much.
I seriously have no idea what I did or said that caused him to look at his phone and go, “Uhm, no thanks”. I never will (more’s the pity). And it’s not like I was mentally walking him down the aisle. But, really? GAAAAACK! I still want to know why I’m not the one who gets to Date #3. When I was so nice. And funny. With great hair.
The sad reality is that I just need to get over myself and move on. I wasn’t heavily emotionally involved, but my ego takes a beating every time a guy decides I’m not the one, whether I’m into him or not. I’m self aware enough to state that even though I may not be smitten, I certainly want him to be, as ridiculous as I know that is. I grit my teeth when I think about the guys that just stopped. Stopped texting. Stopped calling. The only guy who still trys to get ahold of me was a lousy boyfriend the first time around, and I’m not interested. I think this happens to every gal — gotta kiss a lotta frogs to get a prince, as they say — but with this particular guy, we had known each other casually for several years, and I kinda developed a thing for him. I’m not shedding any tears, but I’m pouting pretty hard.
I think that although women normally throw their hands up and make like they want to know what happened so that they don’t make the same mistakes again — they lie. We lie. We don’t like to think we’ve done anything wrong, much less have it pointed out to us, no matter how much we insist we do. We’ll probably bitch you out when you give us the answer we said we were looking for. So we are perfect. And confused. Because if we’re so perfect, why didn’t he call back?
We make all kinds of mistakes. An off-handed comment that falls flat. Showing up in heels and being taller than him. Suggesting the wrong movie. And then there’s always the spinach in the teeth/zipper undone/snotty nose horror that we don’t find out about until we get home and realize our chance with him totally slid down the drain. It can also just be a chemistry thing. You’re feeling it, but he’s not. And he’s not doing it on purpose. He can’t help it, which somehow makes it worse.
What we have to realize is that the guys who don’t call back are just getting out of the way for the guy who will. It’s like looking for a really nice pantsuit at Bergdorf Goodman. Some you just leave on the rack. Others you try on, hum and hah about, then take off after a minute or two. Others — well, you can suck in your tummy, fight with the zipper, try to explain away the weird colour, and tell yourself it will “ride up with wear”, but the amazing suit you had your heart set on is just not going to work. Ever. No matter how much it blows, you have to put it back on the hanger for some other gal to try out and keep if it works.
I’m sad. Not devastated. Weepy. Shattered. Just sad, thinking about the men who have been messaging me on the dating site that I use and realizing they are not even close to being matches for me. I liked this particular guy. Boo-urns. But if this ever happens to you (and if you’ve ever been single, it has), keep your chin up. I know how hard it can be, but don’t let a few no-shows let you down. I know I’ll feel better tomorrow, and that’s because I totally, 100% believe that the perfect suit is hanging up at Holt Renfrew — I just need to keep looking.