Aye Spy

While I was in Florence my sister asked me again: “But why are you dating this guy? You see no future with him and I’m constantly seeing you dating for dating sake. Why don’t you just wait until you meet someone you actually want to be with and date them?”

Those words repeated over and over again on my last (and ultimate failure of a trip) with the Frenchman.

I knew he wasn’t the one but it was fun and exciting to date someone new, foreign, and who could speak another language.

But things got old right quick when the bigger picture came into play. He is a complete, and utter, chauvinist. The woman’s place is at home and he constantly tried to convince me that if a rich man came along, I would just want to take care of our babies, and lunch with my friends, and ya know, have no ambition of my own. (Which is, beyond, insulting.)

And the “play fights” over whether or not I would succumb to his desire to have me clean his…well…everything (shirts, pants, dishes, apartment…) got even older.

So after 2 very long days in the gorgeous city of Strasbourg, I knew it was time to let the Frenchman go and truly close up shop until I actually meet someone I like. Adore. Couldn’t see myself without.

It’s been a very long time since, but I have absolute faith. 

There are a few recent men in my life that I have briefly dated who are annoying the “f” out of me (still)

We either broke up (or rather they broke up with me) or they quite literally disappeared….never to be heard from again….except through facebook.

All of these guys I was friends with, and therefore facebook friends with, before we started dating. Hence how they got access to my profile (I do not friend guys I just meet, nor do I friend guys I am just dating. It’s too soul baring)

Yet these dudes who have disappeared from my life (from their own choosing I might add) CONSISTENTLY like my facebook statuses.

What.the.hell.

I have hidden them from my timelines (as I feel like de-friending them would seem too “aggressive”) but them liking my statuses I feel is ridiculously passive aggressive.

One dude literally disappeared - have not heard from him in 2 months - and he disappeared right after I asked the question “so, um, are we dating? Cause I keep getting asked out on dates from other guys but I don’t know what’s going on between us.” I even went so far as to say “not that I’m looking for a commitment, but I’d just like to know.” And that was met with complete and utter silence. 

Except when he likes my facebook statuses!

What the hell is the etiquette when it comes to this? Someone needs to write a book.

CHALLENGE ACCEPTED!

We sat going round and round when I just had to say it. 

“At the end of the day, there’s a girl, me, sitting across from a boy, you. Girl wants to be in a relationship with boy, boy doesn’t. We can sit here discussing why, or how, or when, or what killed this, but what’s the point?”

He said, “Well I wouldn’t put it…but yeah.”

I then gathered my rejected self and with as much dignity I could muster, excused myself from the situation - not before calling him an idiot of course.

As I sat on my bike, trying to turn the key, the tears started to stream. Shamelessly crying for the relationship that would never be.

With a swipe of the tears, and a few deep breaths, I set off and tried oh so hard not to look back.

You sit and wonder, torturing yourself. Stalk google, twitter, and facebook. You want to know what they’re doing, how they are. Too cowardly to ask them directly for fear of silence, you look for little snippets of their reality. You wonder how they can “miss you” yet never reach out. You ponder if it’s bullshit or sincere. Either way you just can’t let them go. 

You get angry at yourself for the constant state of self torture. The tug of the heart strings, the hopeful wonder. You mentally slap yourself over and over again. You’re no longer, separated by hundreds of miles, yet you still can’t forget them.

Forget how they made you feel. How it felt to walk beside them. Their dimples, scruff, intense dark eyes. The ease of falling in step. The laughter. The intimate moments you play over and over. Their hands through your hair. Their breath on your skin.

It will get better. They will go away. You will be happy and open to falling in love again. But right now it’s about time. Time to forget the conversations. Get some distance from their flesh. Forget the sound of their voice and how much you enjoyed listening to them talk about anything.

It will get better and you won’t feel like such an intense idiot for feeling this way.  

I’ve had a hard time letting go of the most recent boy. Mostly because there was nothing really wrong with our relationship, he was just deathly afraid of it. Instead of embracing it, he ran away (literally - ran away - as in no longer in NYC). You’d be proud. I called him the coward he is, the idiot he was and constantly said his decision was stupid. Regardless of the harsh truth I tried to reflect, he still ran, and fast. And although you’re shaking your head muttering under your breath “He’s just not that into you…, it is the truth. I’m a stickler for it, even if acknowledging it hurts me. He’s not ready, for me, for us, to be emotionally involved with anyone. And he might never be.

Part of me desperately clings to the thought that maybe, one day (soon), he’ll come to his senses, and when he does, he’ll remember me, us, and come running. Instead of ignoring the reality that when he does realize he’s “ready” for a relationship he’ll probably just leach on the first girl that drifts his way. (Timing’s a bitch)

So I decided to email him, randomly last week, just to say hi. I hope you’re ok. I miss you.

Crickets.

I started contemplating sending another, sometime in the future, if the words still rang true. Just to remind him I existed. I was still here. That I wouldn’t let go of him, our potential, that easily.

Then I stopped. He knows I exist. He doesn’t need to be reminded. I don’t need to tell him I miss him, or wonder about him. He should know, or if he doesn’t, then he doesn’t care anymore. And neither should I.

It’s time to put on my big girl pants and move on.

It’s been two solid weeks since he walked out the door. No promises made to stay friends, or in touch. He’s been so delicately erased from my every day. I catch myself dwelling on the potential of us, instead of the actuality of our history. I force myself to remember our time was brief, even if we both believed our future wouldn’t be.

It’s so hard to let go of him, of us. It’s so rare to feel connected, and get excited about potentials, and egg-shell talks of futures. To cut short the day dreamed adventures, and remind yourself that they never happened, even if you believed with all your might they would.

It’s a big black hole. As if he never existed, we never did.

And it fucking sucks.

Mom: I was going to call you Friday night but I figured you’d be busy!

Me: Nope, no plans.

Mom: Any plans tonight?

Me: Nothing solid. Might hang out with a girlfriend.

Mom: Tomorrow?

Me: Nadda.

Mom: What happened to the guy you were seeing? No plans with him?

Me: He’s taking some time to figure “stuff” out…

Mom: Fuck! Are you serious?

Me: DID YOU JUST SWEAR?!

Mom: Well I mean he’s an idiot.

Me: Yup.