I guess I might as well get you up to speed.
The point of what I’m about to say is something I’ve said before and it’s that the secret of life is to just show up, like it or not, no matter what.
I know from experience that if you crawl under the covers, nothing good happens. Everything goes dark.
There have been times when I needed everything to go dark, because I was either dark myself or very tired. Like the year after my break-up with Peter.
I think I kept the lights on, but I was a blustery storm of torrential sadness. I cried all the time. And I do mean all the time.
Well, not anymore.
There’s bluebirds on my shoulder and I’m an effin Disney movie.
Even when stupid things happen, like this latest run of dating, I generally feel like life is more better and less worse.
Even with all this rain and the perpetual gray skies overhead.
Last weekend my kid came home and we went to Martha’s. She’s my friend with the good marriage. Julien went to Italy to race cars or ride his bike or something like that. So we went to eat, watched a movie and had a sleepover!
Garth was a little freaked out because she has an Irish Wolfhound and he’s as big as a horse.
At the time I was texting some guy named Jay who surprised me by sounding like James Bond on the phone.
My last British invasion was a bit of a nightmare, but okay.
Then he asked for a photo of me – twice. Remember those red flags?
That, combined with the fact that he called me sweetheart and he’d yet to meet me (two red flags in rapid succession) made calling it quits a no-brainer. Even if he did live in Sausalito and was in grad school because his uber successful tech company didn’t feed his soul. Even given that.
A man who has already read my profile and been gifted once with a personal selfie to prove I am roughly who I say I am doesn’t get another picture…to do what with, exactly? Creepy.
Plus I get to decide if I’m someone’s sweetheart or not. It isn’t something you just waltz in and appropriate.
So he was over and done with and I went to Penrose with my kid and the groove is in the heart waiter remembered me and my date who was too sick to order a lemonade from the week before.
He said “you poor thing,” hugged me, and sent over free Beignets.
We had some nice food.
A little later, two things.
I checked my OkC account and the infirm sent me this, a week after he’d forced out the words “rain check?” between bouts of stomach and ear pain.
He didn’t let my passive-aggressive-sweet/not-sweet response stand. He had the last word, telling me that he’d seen a doctor and now felt great.
How fabulous for him.
I never say this but, like I care.
I had the last last word and blocked him forever. Take that! Nothing worse than a bunch of dead soldiers cluttering up your OkC inbox.
Plus, I hate having to wince over and over every time I accidentally see the relic of a ridiculous exchange. I mean a mere days ago Andy was admiring my wit and panache and texting things like – I can tell we’re going to have FUN!
Poor Andy. He actually thought that I was still holding out hope for his recovery and a rain check. And once again, not wanting to be rude, he was just rude.
There are very few times when ghosting is appropriate but I think after a bad date, it’s actually the kinder thing to do.
I’ve also come clean on a date, during the date, when I’ve immediately known someone is not for me. Nicely of course, but I’ve said it.
After a week of silence though, it’s just not necessary to unroof that scab. I mean, the healing has begun, so why mess with it.
I don’t need to tell you this but even when you aren’t really interested in someone, when that person says you aren’t a match after a date that they themselves completely botched…how does that work even? That’s what goes through your head for about ten minutes. You call your friend and ask them to be honest and tell you if you are really a troll or something because what the heck?!!
Dating is making me a little meaner and crazier than I might otherwise be. And possibly insecure. I mean I like myself just fine but maybe I’ve aged out of the guy thing.
So when Tom #2 (the first Tom was nice, but not for me) stared back at me from my dating app, I almost deleted him too.
Tom #2 was away for a week working and right before he left I answered his message and he left some question open and didn’t write back so in my oh, brother state of mind I almost deleted him too.
But my kid said, mom you’re being a freak. So I didn’t delete him in my fit of disgust.
Andy and that British dude can still suck it and I made up my mind that Tom 2 was going to be my last OkC date for a bit.
A person can only digest so many ridiculous dates. I’d definitely say I’m a little warped from all this weirdness.
Also, it’s been so long since I’ve been in a settled, LTR thing. I don’t remember what it was like enough to know if I even want it again.
I feel like I’m failing my therapist and The Secret miserably at this point but I am starting to have no clue as to what it is that I really want. No vision board. Nada.
Hell if I know.
Tom 2 did contact me and we went to dinner and he is a totally normal person with brains, a nice face, and the right vibe.
He said yes to square dancing this Friday (!) and he texts with enthusiasm.
There is nothing like reaching out to a person and seeing those gray dots bounce right back at you, pronto. It’s the best.
So basically, I got Beignets, a nice weekend with my kid and with Martha and a decent date for once – and all I did was show up.
If I can do it, so can you.
So swallow hard and keep going.
Never forget that there are free Beignets waiting. And guys named Tom who aren’t total buttheads.
Woop! For the win.