Retro Boy - Part 2

After I turned down Retro Boy, he responded nicely and we parted ways. Honestly, I didn’t think of it again. Over the coming months I had other dates and a lot of personal change and I really did completely forget about him.

Until six months later when he emailed me out of the blue.

As I said before, he is a genuinely nice guy. I didn’t blow him off maliciously or harbor any ill will for him. He didn’t do anything nasty. So when he dropped me a line, I was nice right back. There was no reason not to be. We had parted on good terms, and he already knew I wasn’t interested in dating him. I figured it was an odd but friendly hello. And for a while, it was.

We chatted about our lives, I told him I had moved recently. It was nice. Just as I was starting to wonder exactly where he was going with all of this random small talk, he stepped up and told me. Or rather, he asked me out again.

Let me restate that in case you missed it. We went on one date. I turned him down for future dates. He disappeared. Six months later he reappeared and asked me out again out of the blue. Right. Just making sure you got that.

I was floored. I still didn’t want to go out with him, but that was a brand new maneuver I’d never seen anyone pull before. I sat on the email for longer than usual before replying. As I always was with him, I was polite. But I told him nothing had changed for me and I still wasn’t interested. And I waited to see what would happen.

What happened was exactly nothing. He fell silent and didn’t email again. I shrugged it off and assumed that was that. I felt a little bad that I had to reject him again, but giving him false hope seemed worse. I had done the right thing. Hopefully he was off finding a date with someone who thought he was the bee’s knees. And so I forgot about it again.

That was almost exactly six months ago. And there is a very good reason I remembered this story just recently. A reason I will surely give you…. tomorrow.

Retro Boy

You know what? We haven’t had story time in a while. So let me tell you a story. This tale takes us back to over a year ago when I was just starting to seriously want to date again. This story is about RetroBoy.

RetroBoy earned his name up front from the pictures he posted on Plenty of Fish. He was neither attractive nor unattractive, but he had a Hawaiian shirt, Buddy holly glasses, lava lamp in the background kind of retro thing going on. It was a little endearing. Enough, at least to make me answer him when he emailed me.

As emailing went on, I made a classic mistake. He was silly and made me laugh. He signed off his emails with funny little rhymes like “Toodles Noodles” that made me laugh. When he realized I was amused, he would come up with a new one every time. I started to get excited about going out with him. I was looking forward to a date.

We all know that never ends well, right? Finally we managed to schedule a time to meet. I continued to look forward to the date and to think positive things. He continued to say things like “Later Tater” and me me giggle. All was well. Until, of course, the date.

Reality is rarely as good as hope would like us to believe. From the moment I spotted Retro Boy, I knew we were in trouble. First of all, he was skinny. Not thin, but skinny. Truth be told, even thin is not my thing, but skinny is rarely anyone’s. And this guy was skinny. He was all legs and arms and overly large hands, but no real substance. And his hair was not the retro gelled look I thought from his picture. Instead it was rather thin and oddly fuzzy. Still, I smiled and went into the restaurant with him.

He was also very soft-spoken. I learned that next as I kept having to lean over the table to hear him. We were in a crowded restaurant and his voice did not carry over the noise, despite the fact he was sitting right across from me. Despite this, he seemed to find joy in the smallest things. Retro Boy was obviously a very positive and mostly happy person. It was refreshing, but not necessarily what I wanted to find next to me in bed, you know? Unfortunately the remainder of the conversation did not work in his favor. Although he wouldn’t come out and say it directly, I learned that at 37, Retro Boy still lived with his mother. And it appeared to be due to the lack of money to live elsewhere. Oh yeah, this was just getting worse and worse. I obviously already knew that it was a first and last date with Retro Boy for me.

Still, the fact remains that this was an exceedingly nice man, and I didn’t want to be rude. So I made polite conversation, tried to pay for my dinner (which he didn’t let me do) and let him walk me to the car. When we got there I gave him a quick hug and headed off. Then I waited.

Because every One Date Wonder knows that what you do next is wait for the other person to show their hand. Especially in dating situations where you know you’re just not that into them, the next logical manuever is to wait for the other person to make a move. This is because the other person may also not be feeling it. The whole thing could conceivably die a natural death without the sort of painful gasping that having to explain you’re not interested may cause. So you wait. The other person may simply never contact you again, or may also express a disinterest. In those cases, you don’t need to take action or do anything painful. You can just accept their action and move on. Of course, sometimes they will express a continued interest, in which case you do indeed have to take action. Such was the case with Retro Boy.

A day or so later, I had an email from Retro Boy telling me it was the best date he’d been on in ages, he had a great time, and he wanted to do it again. I was out of town at the time, which he knew, so I had a small window to assemble some kind of reason why that wouldn’t happen. I thought and thought, but the bottom line is that despite my lack of interest, this was a genuinely good person and I didn’t want to hurt him. So I fed him some vague nonsense that did not specifically state that I would never be attracted to him. He said ok, and it was worth a try, and our email exchange ended. I promptly wrote off Retro Boy and went about my life.

Until six months later when I heard from him again. But that’s a story for tomorrow.

Do you believe?

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the chances we get in life, and specifically love. As someone who is twice divorced, this is a hot topic for me and one that I’ve thought about very differently over the years.

When I was young, I believed in one soulmate. That there was this one person out there who was your perfect match. The logistics of you never running into them never occurred to me. There was this soulmate and eventually I would meet him. We would just know, and we would hold on to each other. Then we would live out our lives like a Disney movie…. happily ever after. When I met my first husband, I believed he was it. We had the deep instant connection. He wasn’t afraid of being with me or committing to me. Everything was wonderful. Until I got divorced.

After that I was faced with the downfall of my belief system. After all, if this had been my one soulmate, then I was doomed right? But I was still young and full of hope. And so I chose to believe that I wasn’t doomed yet. But I was soured on the idea of a soulmate. I moved on to believing there were lots of people you could work with, you just had to find the right one. And my ever optimistic heart met husband number two and believed he was that right one. I believed we were going to make happiness and grow old together. Everything was wonderful. Until I got divorced again.

After that I was much less optimistic. At first I was determined to learn to stand on my own two feet. Having spent over a decade either married or in a serious relationship, I no longer knew how to be alone. In fact, I probably never knew. So I was going to learn. And that was my main focus. Gradually, I realized I had that part under control and the problem became that I no longer blindly believed there was someone out there for me. For the first time in my life, I wasn’t sure that I would ever find someone else to love. I was no longer confident that I wouldn’t die alone. I was no longer sure.

Experience has not served me well on that. Instead I am learning not to hope and not to believe. And while that may save me from short term heartbreak, sometimes I wonder at the long term implications of such a belief system. Once or twice I have even forced myself to abandon negativity, unfortunately only to be reminded of why I adopted those attitudes in the first place. And so I find myself in a somewhat jaded place and unsure of what to believe anymore. It’s the first time in my life that I’ve looked at love without conviction.

Since I’m not sure anymore, I’m wondering what all of you believe. Do you believe in soulmates? In love at first sight? In things being meant to be? Do you have conviction that there is someone out there for everyone? That we will find these people? Or have you given up? Are you unsure too? What do you believe?

Random thoughts

I know you love it when I’m all scatterbrained and I post anyway. I just know you do. So, just to oblige you, here is this:

• I adore the smell of fresh clean boy with manly soap. Seriously. Whatever they put in men’s soap and deodorant is like crack to me. Mr. Big is now talking about leaving his soap in my apartment for just this reason.
• Secretly, I’m sure he will never do such a thing. Because that would mean something of his would live at my place. And he is especially phobic about stuff like that.
• I am still battling that f-ing cat litterbox smell. I’m starting to think it’s all in my head. My friends say my apartment doesn’t smell, and yet I smell it every time I walk in the door. What’s up with that? And please send help.
• I am tired.
• Today is a very weird day. By the end of it, I’m sure I won’t like it anymore. But right now, in just this second, I can find at least one thing to be grateful for. I could find more if I got another email. Although I feel I may never, and I will be back where I started.
• I don’t know how, but I still miss him. Maybe I always will.
• I am on the verge of making a new life. Teetering on the edge really. Just dipping my toe into the pool. Just one little breeze and I’m all in. Go on, I dare you…. push me.
• I’ve been looking for reasons to start over for months now. I am just starting to realize the only real reason is just for me. And I am ready in so many ways. All I need is a little help and I’m there. I will make this happen. I think.

Happy accident

Sometimes I truly believe that real life is far more amusing than anything I can make up. And so today, I offer you a true email exchange that has just happened to me. Word for word. Only names have been removed to protect the guilty.

It all started when I got an email from a complete stranger today. In it was a picture of two people I didn’t recognize… a guy and a girl. No text, no explanation. And clearly not meant for me as the people were complete strangers and the email address was unfamiliar. So I replied…

Me:

The guy in the picture is available if you’re interested.

Thanks

Me:

Well he is cute, and I am single.

Also, this is seriously amusing!

Him:

Now this is beautiful, making the best of a situation.[He] is an interesting guy, he has a steady job as a Carrier Coordinator, he is an accomplished musician and teaches the guitar, he is also a standup comedian. Quite a catch if you ask me.

What do you look like OneDateWonder, I think it only fair that you send a picture of yourself since you know what [he] looks like.

Me:

Fair is fair. Although I have no idea where you are, this is me. (I attached a picture to this email.)

Him:

Well, I’ll forward your information on to him and if he is interested, he’ll reach out to you.

Nice to meet you OneDateWonder.

Me:

Nice to meet you too. This is by far the most amusing thing that’s happened to me all day.

Now I recognize that is probably the last I’ll ever hear of that. But still, how funny? I know I’m still laughing.

Something fun!

Time for a non-alcoholic pick me up. Mollie over at Musings of a “Crazy Cat Lady” has quickly become just one of my favorite all around gals. She is sweet, and positive, and can even disagree with me gracefully. Which, truth be told, is hard to do because I’m a little stubborn sometimes. (Only a little!)

Anyway, she has graciously invited me to provide some advice to her and her readers regarding the wonderful wild and wacky world of online dating. So hop on over to Musings of a “Crazy Cat Lady” and check it out!

(Disclaimer: Mollie may love kitties but is not indeed actually crazy. At least, I don’t think she is…)

How NOT to be a bridesmaid

You know, I like to share advice here to enrich my readers’ lives. Just my own personal little service. A gift from me to you. I’m just nice like that. So, in the spirit of giving, I would like to tell you how not to be a bridesmaid.

First of all, you should not be laid back. This will apparently piss off at least one of the bridesmaids. I will explain in more detail later.

You should definitely not drink red wine all night and forgo the simple rules of hydration such as…. you know…. to hydrate. Water is not your enemy. You should probably also not start bumming cigarettes off of the mother of the bride in your drunken stupor. Because she will give them to you, and you will smoke them. You should also not take the closing of the bar as a reason to speed up drinking. You should however remember if your father is attending the same function, so as to avoid doing anything stupid in front of him in your fancy dress.

As a brief note to the staff at wedding type establishments, you should probably not hand sparklers to a crowd of drunken people. Won’t always go badly…. but it could so very easily.

You should not tell a couple of drunken male friends that you had a nice conversation with a guy. Because they will inevitably decide you should bang him and harass you all night.

You should not ever go swimming in the wee hours of the morning when none of you have bathing suits. This may result in you getting into a pool in your pajama top and someone else’s slip which you will then forget to return.

Apparently you should not begin a deep discussion with that bridesmaid you pissed off at the very beginning of this list. This will result in her telling you how abrasive you are and that you hurt her feelings. At that point you definitely should not apologize to her, no matter how much you would like to smooth over your dear friends wedding day.

At this point a husband of the pissed bridesmaid would like you to know that you should not fall into the fountain in front of your guest house. Because everyone will laugh and no one will believe it was on purpose. Also, you will smell like a sewer afterwards. Your wife will force you to shower before you leave for home in boxers and a button down shirt. She will also get pulled over on the drive home and that just won’t look good. (However, you should feel free to snicker if such a thing does occur. Because that is seriously funny.)

You should not use the bathroom in your guest house to wash your face, pee, or vomit. Because you will see freaky little bugs in there no matter which you are doing. Sometimes on the floor, sometimes in the washcloth, and in unrelated news sometimes dead in your bed.

The next morning you should not go to breakfast if you are not feeling 100%. Because you will get to the top notch quaint little restaurant on the property first thing in the morning and promptly start to feel not so good. You will then locate the teeny tiny completely unsoundproofed powder room which has just been impeccably cleaned. And you will defile it with the aforementioned red wine and lack of hydration.

You should then not imagine you are fine and get in the car with the bride’s parents to drive back home. Especially if the drive is over an hour long. Here is why. About five minutes before you get there, your stomach will get very angry. To the point where you have to let the parents know. They will speed up in an effort to avoid disaster, but it probably won’t work. Eventually your urgent need to empty your stomach will overcome all decency. Your friend’s parents will pull over in font of a stranger’s driveway. And, in a moment of complete fabulosity, you will hop out of the car and be sick. On a stranger’s driveway. In front of the bride’s parents.

I think we can all agree that it definitely a comprehensive guide on how not to be a bridesmaid. Hypothetically speaking, of course.

Virtual Bandaid

I still hurt. I still don’t understand why. I am still startled and off balance over the whole thing. I am still wounded deeply. I still wish he would call, or write, or reappear. That we could talk. That this was all a bad mistake that we could go about fixing.

I’m tired. I will be sad for a while. Very sad. I don’t know how long. Probably longer than you think I should be. I will cry when no one’s looking.

BUT…

I’m done bleeding all over the internet. I have unlimited space and permission to do it, but it’s stopping now. This is me slapping a bandaid on it and pretending I can move on. I will fake it til I make it as that is the only option left.

I pulled him off of my IM list so I can no longer follow when he logs on and off. And, as badly as this hurt today, I deleted his contact info from my phone. I can no longer call or text or drive us both insane. If he wants me, he will have to take a step. I am here if he does, and I’m gone if he doesn’t.

As I grow stronger and the silence continues, I will remove him from other places. Until I can go for a day or two or even three without wondering, without looking, without seeking him out somehow. I will force myself to come around.

The stupid Tums are still on the counter though. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe.

Self Indulgence

I didn’t change the sheets last night after all. Instead I touched the empty space next to me and admitted I had not been ready to let go of that yet. I admonished myself for a while, then I slept. Mercifully, I did not dream. That I couldn’t have handled.

This morning I opened my eyes and bcame determined that today would be better. Once I got in the shower, I remembered him telling me how he was not all men. How he was going to prove to me that some men are different. And I realized he had failed. He had done exactly what men before him have done. Exactly what I actually trusted him not to do. I tried to get angry over it, but I couldn’t. So I tried not to cry instead. Also, I couldn’t.

Then it happened. I started finding the things he left behind. I must have looked at the spot a thousand times last night, but this morning I saw a bottle of his just laying there in that spot in my bedroom. There was no doubt, it was his. I picked it up to throw it out and got as far as the kitchen, but I couldn’t. So I set it on the counter and stared. A bottle of Tums. This is ridiculous. But there it sits.

I got down to my car and realized he was the last one to drive it. Everything was set differently. I had to take time to put it back. I tried not to cry. I saw the momento he had taken from the restaurant where we had brunch Sunday, sitting in my car. Not with him now, but with me. I remembered how he had talked to my friends while I was in the restroom and told them how he could really see himself with me. I wondered why that wasn’t worth at least a shot. A chance that this could be different, for both of us.

And yet the fear has made it exactly the same as so many things that came before it. Another reason to be broken. Another reason to hurt. And I am so profoundly sad because I truly believed this would not come to this. I haven’t been willing to believe like this in literally years. And if something in this doesn’t give it will be so many more before I do again. My friends insist this will come around, because there was so much there for both of us. I tell them I can’t afford to hope anymore. And yet I think we all know a tiny corner of my heart is still lit with exactly that.

I remember the crushed look on his face when he told me he never wanted me to have another night like I did two nights ago. When I fell asleep crying in his arms. What he never knew is that that night was so much better than last night. Where I ached and hurt and cried and there was no one to talk to or hold me. When I knew that he would not be there to do it again. Last night was infintely worse, and I wonder now if he’ll ever know that. If we can ever fix it.

This morning I remembered all the half formed plans I already had for us. Concerts, and conferences, and roller coasters. How I had already looked at my calendar to see when in the coming months I could go there to see him. How I had already thought out how we could make some events affordable for him to come and see me. How I was mapping things out carefully in my head to make it work, even though it broke all of my rules too. Even though.

But right now he is shutting me out. And there is nothing I can do. I’m helpless. And all I can think is that despite all hope and belief and promises, right now he is exactly like so many who came before. And I’m desperate for him to prove me wrong.

I could have

I could have fallen in love with him. Sometime in the middle of the day on Saturday, I knew that was true. I pushed it off into a pile of things I couldn’t deal with right away, but it was there. Right on the top. An undeniable fact.

I could have fallen in love with him. He was a great kisser. He could cook too. My friends ended up meeting him and loved him. Everyone voted yes. He’s a keeper. He is great for me. I knew all the reasons why I shouldn’t listen. But all those reasons, they’ve gotten me nowhere in life. I’m ready for changes on a huge scale. Ready for risks. Ready for happiness.

I could have fallen in love with him. I was already three quarters of the way there. It was terrifying and beautiful. Are there things wrong with both of us? For sure. Lots even. I am tired and bitter. He is dark. We are both a little broken. But somehow that doesn’t mean we can’t both find happiness, right?

I could have fallen in love with him. But the truth is, now I’ll never have the chance. This One Date Wonder asked him to believe and he said no. So there is no nickname. There are no plans. There will be no future entries. He left early today and he won’t come back. And in the middle of that moment, the best I could do was to tell him not to leave anything behind. You see, I can’t afford to find his shirt or his sock or his toothbrush and have that particular breakdown. In fact, in a few hours when I stop weeping, I will have to change the sheets so I can’t smell him when I’m curling up alone, again. And again. And again.

I could have fallen in love with him. But instead I have another reason never to hope again. Another reason not to believe. Another life I’ll never have. Just another dead end and another chink in the armor I’ve never worn. There is another brick in my wall that no one will get through. My life has become just a series of reasons to believe that it does not actually get better than this. And, as it turns out, it doesn’t matter if I believe or not. Life really is just that hopeless. That’s a lesson I really wish I hadn’t learned.

So I could have fallen in love with him. But, as it turns out, I won’t.