[dropcap]So[/dropcap] let’s see…Friday night I went out with a 23 year old…and made out in the rain in a movie theatre parking lot. (following the it was great to meet you text message was a barrage of amenable text messages about how he had been shy and would certainly please my every whim and desire the next time. Apparently he too wanted to go down on me (not that I’ve ever really had anyone not want to go down on me…but verbalizing it…rather than say…telling me they wanted to fuck me…was becoming a trend…the 23 year old…Come Back Charlie…*spoiler alert* and some others not yet discussed.) I digress. The text messages went on for quite awhile. Perhaps I didn’t play along enough. Perhaps it was because I pointed out that with both of us currently staying with our folks, there was hardly a place for said behavior to occur. Still, it seemed to end well.
And yet, like The PhD. before him, after a series of dirty text messages, I never heard from him again. Okay that’s a lie, I heard once, one text message but it was about school and being busy and who the fuck cares. The truth was, I was probably using the whole nowhere to kick it as an excuse because as much as it seemed interesting to date a 23 year old…I wasn’t really feeling him. Deuces.
Monday I went out with Come Back Charlie. He sent the usual text so great to meet you and can’t wait to see you again. We made plans. Or. Well. I thought we made plans. He asked if I was free Wednesday, I wasn’t. I asked if he was free Thursday, he wasn’t. Well, I said, I’m busy Saturday and Sunday so it’s either Friday or next Monday or Tuesday? Friday could work, he said. But then he added, that he’d have to check and see if he was working early Saturday morning or not. To be honest, it felt like a brush off. But then again I tend to overact and get my spikes up
for anyone who displays anything other than total admiration for me if I think I’m being jilted. But I was trying to be breezy, no? So I said sure, sounds great and that was that.
Looking back now, it’s clear that we were only hanging out if he let me know, which he did not. But at the time, I foolishly thought we had plans, assuming that he didn’t tell me he had to work. See. I make dating mistakes too. All the time in fact. Just in case you were under the misguided presumption that I always know what the fuck I’m doing. Anyway, so Friday rolled around and somewhere around 2pm I sent a text message saying so, are we on for tonight?
We were in fact, not on for tonight. He had to blah blah blah tonight and wouldn’t blah blah blah till tomorrow blah blah blah. And so that was that. I got the brush off. Ain’t that a bitch. Looks like this whole Vancouver summer fling before I move to Montreal thing really just wasn’t going to happen. So I mean, fuck. But whatever. I guess.
My response to his text message? Silence. Because what is there reallly to say.
It takes all my strength to say nothing. To text nothing. Because I know that there is no point. Because I know these feelings are irrational. Because nobody likes bitter betty. But here, in this blog, where I share some of my most vulnerable moments, I can tell you this: I am a ball of rage.
I want to text you know you just blew it right? because there is a part of me that actually thinks that it is not simply a case of him not liking me enough but that he might really be that stupid. But I think we all know, it’s not an either or situation. He doesn’t like me, stupid or not. Bird Seed. Full Stop. Because otherwise he would’ve told me the moment he knew…rather than waiting for me to text and ask if we were still on, only to then inform me that we’re not.
I want to text thanks for wasting my time or good thing I wasn’t waiting around to hear from you or fuck you fuck you fuck you but really fuck me fuck me fuck me I’m so stupid I fucking hate you!!!
I want to send him a link to the blog. I want him to read this post. I want to know how can someone seem so totally into me (even if we are expiration dating, a time stamped affair), and then just fuck it all up.
I want I want I want. Doesn’t he know that the rest of the summer was laid out for him? We could’ve watched movies and created our own x-rated scenes. We could’ve laughed. We could’ve done all the fun things in dating without worrying about where is this going? and what are we doing? We could’ve had the drive in movie theatre make out, thrown our empty popcorn tubs and sodas on the ground (metaphorically of course, you know mamma don’t litter) and driven off into the night.
It feels like handing someone an all-out-paid-for dream vacation and them just shrugging their shoulders and saying something ridiculous like meh…I think my passport is expired. Like that’s an acceptable reason to turn down such a treasure.
I want to rage. I want to smash things. I want to write long, well thought out, articles that somehow change the world into being the place I want it to be. A place where people respect the time of others. A place where people say what the fuck they’re thinking. A place where people don’t treat others like shit. I want to be right and maybe I just don’t give a fuck about being happy!!!
Except that I do. Because I’ve adopted a new policy in life. Better to be happy than to be right.
I actually used to think the total opposite. Better to be right (because in being right, you could find happiness). But given that you can’t control others, that often isn’t the case. And so I changed my mind. Better to be happy than to be right. Better to keep your mouth shut about some things. Better not to bother trying to teach someone something that you think is right
which, if we’re being honest, they probably either disagree with or even more likely don’t give a shit about.
Plus aside from the fact that he could’ve saved me the time and energy wasted in being excited/stressed about hanging out, was there really anything to teach Come Back Charlie
besides how to be a fucking decent human being, no, of course not. The truth was, he just simply didn’t like me. Adorable conversation, hot and heavy making out, even cute realizations that our father’s have the same careers…all of that aside…the dude didn’t want to see me again. Case closed. And I just fucking accept it. So I did.
Well…until I had a conversation with two close friends. More on that next time *awkward winky face* *falls over* *jumps up* *bats eyelashes to try to make up for stumble instead looks like a girl having a seizure* *gives up and walks away*
Vancouver Dating Blog: Dating Vancouver a Better Place, One “Something” at a Time
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