It’s the last thing I wanted to think about this week. It really was.
I’m a little upset with the last fellow I thought I was building a rapport with. Not so much because we’re no longer talking but because it went dead. Just dead. I apologized for my unintentional slight and I was met with “k” and not a word more. At all.
I’ve spoken with a few fellows since then. I’m finding that everyone is waiting for the other person to make the first move.
If we chat, non-romantically, for more than few days, it never comes to anything.
If he makes an overt sexual comment, I shut him down.
Where is the middle ground?
At what point will it be okay to meet and not feel like I’m going to be date-raped? At what point will he feel it’s okay to suggest we meet? There’s a lot of fear. I recognize it’s on everyone’s parts.
A few years ago, I got myself out of a bad relationship. It came at the worst time. I said goodbye to a friend I’d had since I was 14. I’m not saying it was a good friendship. I recognized at the time, and still do, that the friendship was always toxic. When I was embroiled in extracting myself from that friendship, I reencountered the fellow Laurel and I named DoucheCanoe. I told my then-friend “Mallory” that I knew it would end in disaster if I pursued it. This was for a few reasons. He was several years younger than myself. He was very immature for his own age. He pursued me relentlessly. Mallory and I spent nearly a year in our falling out. It was a shame she couldn’t hear my words about why we were toxic together. Needless to say, it was very upsetting. DoucheCanoe went to prison for six months. I wrote him. Like an asshole. I was begging to be punished for something.
My sister and I were dealing with my growing anxiety disorder. We lived together and I was coming unhinged. I worked for a horrible company and my boss was a rage-oholic. I’m not the confrontational sort. There were a lot of bad things going on. I met Laurel that summer and I had someone to share with. We really connected under the stress of working for the rage-oholic, that boss getting fired, loving our new boss and the environment of loving the work and hating the job.
When DoucheCanoe got out, we had different ideas of what we were doing. It was upsetting for me. I knew it wasn’t going to last and I still tried to make something of it. Then my baby sister got sick. Then I spiraled. According to all, I was still recovering from working for the rage-oholic, the stress of my little sister being so ill, having family coming and going, seeing the DoucheCanoe on the side. I made some bad decisions.
I found myself overworked, disappointing everyone, including myself, and trying to claw myself out. After the New Year, I decided that I wasn’t going to see DouchCanoe again. I decided this about six hours before I slept with him one last time. I signed up for my first dating site. DouchesRUs. Within two weeks, I hadn’t eaten in about seven days. Not anything I could hold down. I was talking to a fellow on the dating site pretty seriously, and fending off a weird attraction at work. I was worried about my sister. I was denying my condition. When I realized and recognized that I was pregnant, I made my doctor’s appointment and I tried to tell the DoucheCanoe. He was himself. I was fairly certain he was seeing other people but wanting to have me on standby.
I miscarried and fought with the DoucheCanoe for about two weeks, for no other reason than to focus my rage and loss on something tangible. Honestly, I didn’t want to have the kid. I didn’t want to have a kid with him. It still felt like something had been stolen. Like a choice had been taken away from me. My serious fellow from the dating site and I got closer and I thought “this is the guy!” I wasn’t really paying attention to the signs.
He was a guy too damaged to be good for anyone. He strung me along for a while and when it came time to meet, at my insistence, I was stood up. I was humiliated. He never talked to me again. Never responded to my messages. I let it go.
I had enough to deal with. My sister was very ill. My job was all-consuming. I didn’t even have time to see friends, forget date.
No one is every going to be without stress. It’s a factor of life. Finding the gumption to get it up every day is hard but doable.
I’m happy to say that my darling baby sister is cancer-free and trying to get back into the world, even if she still has to wear wigs sometimes. My best friend Laurel and I get more time together. My new job allows me to leave work at work. I have time to date but my hours are crazy. I start conversations with guys at night and then I fall asleep. I try to get back with them in the morning but 5am is too early and 10:30am is a weird time. Making it work is not going to be easy but anything worth doing is worth doing right.
No more ex-cons. No more guys too shy to step outside. Getting control of my anxiety. Setting my standards at a reasonable high. I have my work cut out for me.
And NOW IndiscriminateDouches:
“If I could rearrange the alphabet, I would put U and I together.”
“When I saw you, I fainted and hit my head. I need your name and phone number to bill my insurance.” Translated this one from Spanish.
DouchesRUS really gave me a gem last night.
The message was in English. The fellow said that he could not put into words how romantic he was. He sent me a link to a youtube video that played spanish guitar with comments in bubbles in Spanish. I couldn’t read it but the view. Ahem. The handheld camera walked from the driveway into the house where a candlelit dinner was set out of mashed potatoes and some other cream-colored substance that I could not identify and some red fluid in a red solo cup.
I’m not saying it wasn’t sweet. I’m just saying he put it on youtube and sent it to me. It was in a playlist. I’m sure a lot of girls get the same thing. I’ve debated about putting it on here but some of the videos seemed to contain family members and so… I’ll let it go.
As I typed, I got a couple of messages. One from the fellow I was chatting with last night and one from a guy who has literally nothing in his profile but a bunch of periods and forward slashes. (……..///////////………///////). Well, there was a picture of his car but I abhor the Ford Mustang. I’m gonna have to pass.