Maybe I’ve dissected it a thousand times. Maybe I barely paid attention when it was happening. Maybe just too much time has passed. Maybe the continuous over-analyzation of the details was like metaphorically pulling at the thread of my memory sweater. I pulled too hard. I pulled too fast. And it all fucking fell apart. My memory that is. Because I swear to you people. If it wasn’t for text messaging as some sort of tangible record of the events. I might not be able to tell this story. Poof! Like it never even happened. But lucky (or not so lucky) for us all, I do indeed have the tangible words that bring this tale to a……well just let me tell you.
So The Nick Name and I had had our 2nd Date. I’d been the
dirty slut sexy vixen you all know and love me as. And things were great. Except. Well. Ya know how some chicks dissect every fucking detail? See I only do that when things are negative. When things have a positive result. I skip along. Tra la la la. Like everything is draped in cotton candy and sugar coated in icing. Tra la la la. Skip. Skip. Hop. Only the thing is. When I retell these stories to you. Some of the icing sugar has shaken off. And I feel a bit retarded if I don’t point out the things I know should have been obvious. Like somehow I need to prove to you guys I’m not totally retarded. Just naively hopeful.
So the thing is. Even though after we were finished messing around so to speak. There was what I would call cuddling. Not spooning. Because it was more like face to face. Well actually more like I was on my stomach and he was beside me on his side. And we were just kind of curled up kiss kiss wrapped around each other kiss kiss just lying there. Eyes closed. Honestly trying not to fall asleep. And as super pathetic as this is going to sound. I kind of wanted to keep laying there. But I could feel it. Feel something. Feel him. Dude wanted to go to sleep. Now don’t get me wrong he didn’t do anything douchey or awful. But I could just tell. And so I got up to go. He got up with me. Talked about our date for the coming Wednesday still being on. And walked me to the door.
And there. Right in that moment. I knew. Not good. Not good at all. Because the thing of the thing is. He didn’t walk me to my car. And bee tee dub. It was late. It was dark. It was fucking New Westminster. A more residential than sketchy area but please. And the thing that allowed me at the time to discount this. Ignore it. Move along. Was the fact that up until this dating foray that is my 2010 experience, I wouldn’t have expected a boy to walk me to my car. Sure on the first date. But after that. Not really. The door and seal it with a kiss?? obviously. But put your shoes on come out to my car? Not really. But the thing is. I’m not 21 anymore. And I’m certainly not dating 21 year olds. These boys are damn near 40 and they know what’s up. They know what being a gentleman means. And not feeling desireous/compelled to walk me to my car? a bad sign. That I ignored.
Sidebar. The logic behind WHY I ignored all this will come in a wholly separate post (yes it’s that lengthy and complex lol) so just bee tee dub.
But it’s whatevs. I had fun. I’m ignoring the one bad sign in favor of all the good ones. Carrying on. Boxing day rolls in. There is texting. I’m italics.
I’m at my buddies for dinner and the game. Call you later!
Dec. 27th. I wake up with bells on and head down to Seattle. Which I’ll tell you all about. New friends. MegaLove. Etcetera. But in another post. This post is all about TheNickName. So let’s get back to it. I arrive home from Seattle in the wee morning hours of the 28th. And when I turn my phone back on. Obviously expecting it to be blown up with…Hey and then hello? and then further you arounds? and perhaps even are you ignoring me?s. Only it doesn’t. Silence. Okay well not total silence. Texts from friends etc. But from TheNickName. Silence. I mean. What. The. Fuck. I go to sleep.
Later in the day…I get a text from him (me in italics again). Fucking weak ass shit.
Pathetic I know. But in my defense. This was sort of me trying to decipher if he really was bailing for last minute out town pl….fuck…even as I type it…it sounds too stupid. Fuck it was just pathetic. We all slip. Lots. Don’t judge. People in glass houses and all that.
At some point it gets late. I’m going to bed. Fuck this noise. All of me understands he’s not swooning over me. Most of me understands he’s not dying to spend time with me. Some of me understands that he probably doesn’t even like me enough to continue seeing each other (this behavior being evidence). But none of me can grasp how someone I took it slow…but not too slow…with…and have cute conversations with…can go from…good to go and super cute and totally into me….to…total blow off. Now to be clear. I understand it happens. I get it in theory that sometimes people just don’t like either people. But at this exact moment in my defense (I’ve had to say that a lot this post….damn…exclamation point!)…I couldn’t quite make the logic fit…the illogicality of people and emotions and behaviors and whatever the fuck was going on with this dude. So I made one last pathetic attempt. Because the truth is. Me and him. We were better on the phone. Just Sayin’
To Be Continued….Here: Rip the Bandaid, Bitch! (Part Two)
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