Continued from Come Back Charlies (Part II)
[dropcap]…But[/dropcap] that wasn’t the end of it though. Not by a long shot. He was just the first. The first Come Back Charlie. The first boy who mistook me for easy. The first boy to return and announce by his actions (or messages as the case may be) that he was absolutely fucking retarded. Moreover, that he thought that I, was absolutely fucking retarded but boy was he mistaken.
And I don’t know who was spreading these rumors of delusion. I don’t know who was whispering in their ears. Pshh pss psst pssh ppssst You should give it another go Pshh pss psst pssh ppssst You should try her again Pshh pss psst pssh ppssst She totally gives second chances and definitely doesn’t put up walls between herself and those who have jilted her. I bet it was some magic little sprite. Leading them all astray. If only they knew. But alas. Maybe the same way Bitter Betty doesn’t always know she’s bitter. Come Back Charlie’s might not always know they’re retarded.
And so back they came. Charlie #2 and Charlie #3. Both of whom were “somethings” that could have been but never were. Maybe they lacked balls. They were shy. Just a case of the pans. Maybe I was a backup chick. A third tier. Just a fallback and not a priority. Maybe they were just fucking retarded. Out of touch with the physical act of dating (that which entails a meeting). Perhaps they simply didn’t know how to plan. Just not as smart as me. But whatever it was. They never made it past the first step. Fucking babies.
Charlie #2 was the 2nd potential “something” there ever was. After Barbie. Before Garbage Man. He was black. He was hot. He was a native ATLien. Win. Win. Win. He was 32 and tall like Kobe. Almost. 6’4. Close enough. He’d played basketball at SFU (not a first for me oddly enough) and graduated with a BSc. The wooing started with messages. Messages led to texting. Texting led to plans. More than once. And more than once those plans were broken. And thus I’m out was my sentiment expressed. And yet. He still called. And upon not getting the response he sought. Contact stopped. Done.
I should mention. Just in case you’re not super up to date on the whole time line that is this dating journey of mine. This all occurred over roughly the period of November/December 2009. So you can imagine my surprise. When December 2010 rolls around. For all you non-math majors that’s a mother-fucking year. A fucking year gone by and then who should stroll his ass into my POF inbox? None other than Charlie #2 himself. Mr. Atlanta. Mr. Basketball. Mr. Planning and failing himself. I couldn’t fucking believe it. Right on the tail of The Oxymoronic Lawyer aka Charlie #1. Here was this douche bag. Throwing a hail mary. On the off chance a year would have softened me?? Honestly I don’t what he was thinking. We’d only ever talked on the phone maybe once.
But I know this. I wasn’t buying. No thanks. Take those wears and peddle them elsewhere. Mamma isn’t interested. Because his messages (yes plural). Well. They weren’t anything to write home about. No confession narrative about what a retard he’d been. No diatribe about the trials and tribulations that had kept him from my deserving arms (deserving of awesomeness, not deserving of his idiotic tendencies). Nothing about how he had changed or how things would be different. Until. Wait for it. Wait for it. I asked him!
Oh don’t act so fucking shocked. You know me better than that by now. I’m Engaging Edith. Mother fucking Questioning Quinn. I just can’t help myself. I seek answers. However, I’m not a naive child anymore. Because when I get the unsatisfactory answers (as they most surely are). I walk away. Nonchalant Nancy. Learned my Lesson Lisa. Walk. The Fuck. Away. And I did. Just like that. And his answer. FYI. For what was different? Oh. He’d grown up. Retard, please!
And I know what you’re thinking. Wow. Charlie #1 (aka The Lawyer) and Charlie #2 (aka Mr. Basketball) both returning for a second shot. Another crack at the bat. Within what. Like a two week period? Christmas break? Yep…That was exactly two weeks. December 21, 2010 – January 4, 2011. That’s crazy. Only the thing is. Not even close to crazy enough. Because of course. After all. You know for sure (foreshadowing). That there is at least (foreshadowing) one more Charlie, Charlie #3.
But alas my loves. It is late. And this story does indeed drag on. Like any good never-ending story should. And yet this delicate flower needs her beauty sleep. So this story will have to yet again be put on hold. To be resumed soon. And I will have to bid you adieu. Until I can return. And begin again, with the saga of Charlie #3.
To Be Continued…
Vancouver Dating Blog: Dating Vancouver a Better Place, One “Something” at a Time
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