It's been a week and a half since the unsurprising end of my relationship with Mr. Something's-Not-Right, and I think I've made my way through the worst of the post-breakup funk. I credit the usual painkillers: lots of sleep, TV marathons (I'm getting good use out of my Sex & the City DVDs), a pint of hazelnut chocolate gelato, and a little time.
Something else that helped was that the day after we ended things, he sent me an "it's not you; it's me" email. He said he just wanted to make sure I knew that he thought I was amazing. Our personalities and lifestyles seemed like an incredible match, and he was frustrated that we were so likely to click and yet he had such an inexplicable disconnect. He didn't know what was wrong with him, but I deserved someone who could give himself to me 100%. He was already jealous of that guy. He also already missed me.
I thought it was a sweet, unnecessary gesture, and though it didn't make the situation any less depressing, it did take down my frustration a few notches. I wrote him back once and told him I understood. It was sad, but if he wasn't feeling that special something with me, then that can't be helped. Still, I thought he was a great guy and in spite of the way things turned out, I was glad we met and got to spend even that short amount of time together.
It felt like good closure. -–But I still miss him. I miss a lot of things, but I particularly miss just talking to him and knowing him. Since we had so much in common, dated for such a short time, and ended things more or less amicably, I've been toying with the idea of if we could one day be friends. Granted, it'll be a while until it could realistically be possible, and by then I may not even be interested, but it's an intriguing prospect that helps dull the sense of loss. Maybe it's just a crazy thought that's the mental equivalent of sleeping too much and eating too much ice cream. Legitimate idea or coping mechanism? Only more time will tell.
Friday, November 19, 2010
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Finally, an answer
I went out with Lynn last weekend and told her about how I was still waiting for this guy I’m dating to figure things out. Though, I admitted, I honestly thought I could only handle another week or two of this indecision stuff before I’d have to cut my losses. It was just too hard, and sometimes I wondered why I was even putting myself through it.
“It makes sense. Even if things look hopeless, everyone has to let go in their own time,” she said. “Remember when I was dating that guy who admitted he loses interest in a girl after the beginning of the relationship, and even when he was eventually down to only dropping by for booty calls, I still didn’t listen to you and kept seeing him until I got fed up?”
“Yeah, that one time, didn’t you go his place directly after we met and chatted about how I thought you should dump him?”
“YES. And remember how after I broke up with still-technically-married guy, I still pined for him even though he was, well, technically married and didn’t see a future for us? We all do stupid things sometimes when we like someone.”
I told her I was aware that waiting was a stupid thing since this was probably going to end badly, but it was just hard to walk away. I didn’t want to give up too early and have to wonder what if things would have been better in a week? What if he would have actually made up his mind in my favor?
The more I thought about it, however, the more ridiculous it felt. If I learned anything from my last failed relationship, it’s that I want to be with someone who KNOWS he wants to be with me. If this new guy, no matter how great he was otherwise, was already wavering around month two, why in the world was I sticking around? Why was I wasting so much time waiting for him, not to mention letting myself feel bad about it, when I was already fairly certain what he would decide?
I didn’t want to put off the inevitable any longer. I wanted an answer already.
After some initial small talk and a few minutes of questioning, I finally got it. He said his problem was that something didn’t feel right. He finally defined the “something” further and said he felt a bit like things weren’t developing, that at times it almost felt like we were in a friendship with benefits instead of a relationship. (Ouch. I wasn't expecting that one.)
I told him it was still really early, and I didn’t get that vibe at all, but if that’s what he feels, it’s what he feels. It was still hard to pin him down on a decision, though. He continued to hesitate, saying he knew it was still early, that he thought I was really a catch, and that he felt things could potentially be amazing so he was reluctant to just give up. I had to question him specifically on whether he was ready to call this a done deal before he admitted he was so confused about things that he thought he had no choice and probably shouldn’t be dating at all right now.
That was hard to hear, but it was also what I needed to hear. Even though I wasn’t the least bit surprised about his decision, it was still disappointing and surprisingly heartbreaking. He was sad about it, too, and said he was kicking himself for doing this, even as he was going through with it. We both said we wished things were different.
It was tough for me to end the conversation. It was difficult to imagine not talking to him anymore, and I know I’m really going to miss him. I told him I hope he gets unconfused soon and finds what he’s looking for.
I guess I’ll have to keep looking, too.
“It makes sense. Even if things look hopeless, everyone has to let go in their own time,” she said. “Remember when I was dating that guy who admitted he loses interest in a girl after the beginning of the relationship, and even when he was eventually down to only dropping by for booty calls, I still didn’t listen to you and kept seeing him until I got fed up?”
“Yeah, that one time, didn’t you go his place directly after we met and chatted about how I thought you should dump him?”
“YES. And remember how after I broke up with still-technically-married guy, I still pined for him even though he was, well, technically married and didn’t see a future for us? We all do stupid things sometimes when we like someone.”
I told her I was aware that waiting was a stupid thing since this was probably going to end badly, but it was just hard to walk away. I didn’t want to give up too early and have to wonder what if things would have been better in a week? What if he would have actually made up his mind in my favor?
The more I thought about it, however, the more ridiculous it felt. If I learned anything from my last failed relationship, it’s that I want to be with someone who KNOWS he wants to be with me. If this new guy, no matter how great he was otherwise, was already wavering around month two, why in the world was I sticking around? Why was I wasting so much time waiting for him, not to mention letting myself feel bad about it, when I was already fairly certain what he would decide?
I didn’t want to put off the inevitable any longer. I wanted an answer already.
After some initial small talk and a few minutes of questioning, I finally got it. He said his problem was that something didn’t feel right. He finally defined the “something” further and said he felt a bit like things weren’t developing, that at times it almost felt like we were in a friendship with benefits instead of a relationship. (Ouch. I wasn't expecting that one.)
I told him it was still really early, and I didn’t get that vibe at all, but if that’s what he feels, it’s what he feels. It was still hard to pin him down on a decision, though. He continued to hesitate, saying he knew it was still early, that he thought I was really a catch, and that he felt things could potentially be amazing so he was reluctant to just give up. I had to question him specifically on whether he was ready to call this a done deal before he admitted he was so confused about things that he thought he had no choice and probably shouldn’t be dating at all right now.
That was hard to hear, but it was also what I needed to hear. Even though I wasn’t the least bit surprised about his decision, it was still disappointing and surprisingly heartbreaking. He was sad about it, too, and said he was kicking himself for doing this, even as he was going through with it. We both said we wished things were different.
It was tough for me to end the conversation. It was difficult to imagine not talking to him anymore, and I know I’m really going to miss him. I told him I hope he gets unconfused soon and finds what he’s looking for.
I guess I’ll have to keep looking, too.
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Awaiting a verdict
When the guy you’re dating announces (twice) that he really likes you but is more or less debating whether to flee, what’s the next step? Do you keep to your separate corners and put things on hold for however long it takes him to figure things out? Or do you continue spending time together, averting your eyes from the pink elephant in the room, while he thinks it through? I had a hard time coming up with an answer. The truth was I still wanted to see him, but would it even be possible to keep things the way they were, and to continue putting myself out there, knowing he may have one foot out the door? Of course, as my sister suggested, there was always a third option: Break up with him and walk away from the whole confused situation. -–I admitted that made a lot of sense, but I wasn’t ready to give up just yet.
The worst part is that even though I know this problem likely has more to do with his baggage and issues than it does with me, I can’t help but feel a little inadequate. In moments of weakness, I wonder, Am I doing something wrong? Is the mysterious “something” that’s keeping him at arm’s length something that he thinks is wrong with me? It’s hard not to feel insecure when a guy you care about confesses he’s not all that sure about sticking around. Coming right after my “I’m not all that sure about marrying you” relationship, hearing that hasn't exactly done wonders for my ego. On my better days, however, I’m frustrated with him and think I deserve better, and I feel defiantly ambivalent about whatever’s going to happen. On one of those better days, I decided I could handle the inevitable awkwardness and would continue spending time with him, if he asked me to. Que sera sera.
For a while, I wasn’t even sure if he was going to ask to see me this weekend, but he texted me on Friday about getting together that evening, so I agreed. Seeing him in that first moment, for the first time after the second talk, was awkward. Surprisingly, kissing him again was not. Hearing him express regret over his “indecision” was awkward. Chatting over dinner was not. For me, the whole evening undulated between moments of normalcy and moments of trepidation. In spite of my attempts at a “come what may” attitude, I couldn’t help but also feel wary. I held back a story or two when we talked because I didn’t particularly feel like opening up to him anymore. When he asked me to stay the night, I declined. It suddenly seemed like a bad idea to let myself fall asleep in his arms.
We were supposed to get together for dinner tonight, as well, but he backed out at the last minute because he wasn’t feeling well. It wasn’t his fault, of course, but there’s nothing like getting sort of stood up on a Saturday night by a guy who may or may not want to continue seeing you (and realizing you feel worse about it than you probably should) to make you wonder what you’re doing. Sure, I care about him and want to give this the best shot I can, but sometimes I wonder if I’m being optimistic or masochistic. After all, though I don’t know what he’s going to decide, I can't help but think that the odds aren’t in my favor.
The worst part is that even though I know this problem likely has more to do with his baggage and issues than it does with me, I can’t help but feel a little inadequate. In moments of weakness, I wonder, Am I doing something wrong? Is the mysterious “something” that’s keeping him at arm’s length something that he thinks is wrong with me? It’s hard not to feel insecure when a guy you care about confesses he’s not all that sure about sticking around. Coming right after my “I’m not all that sure about marrying you” relationship, hearing that hasn't exactly done wonders for my ego. On my better days, however, I’m frustrated with him and think I deserve better, and I feel defiantly ambivalent about whatever’s going to happen. On one of those better days, I decided I could handle the inevitable awkwardness and would continue spending time with him, if he asked me to. Que sera sera.
For a while, I wasn’t even sure if he was going to ask to see me this weekend, but he texted me on Friday about getting together that evening, so I agreed. Seeing him in that first moment, for the first time after the second talk, was awkward. Surprisingly, kissing him again was not. Hearing him express regret over his “indecision” was awkward. Chatting over dinner was not. For me, the whole evening undulated between moments of normalcy and moments of trepidation. In spite of my attempts at a “come what may” attitude, I couldn’t help but also feel wary. I held back a story or two when we talked because I didn’t particularly feel like opening up to him anymore. When he asked me to stay the night, I declined. It suddenly seemed like a bad idea to let myself fall asleep in his arms.
We were supposed to get together for dinner tonight, as well, but he backed out at the last minute because he wasn’t feeling well. It wasn’t his fault, of course, but there’s nothing like getting sort of stood up on a Saturday night by a guy who may or may not want to continue seeing you (and realizing you feel worse about it than you probably should) to make you wonder what you’re doing. Sure, I care about him and want to give this the best shot I can, but sometimes I wonder if I’m being optimistic or masochistic. After all, though I don’t know what he’s going to decide, I can't help but think that the odds aren’t in my favor.
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