Be Careful What You Wish For
So. Remember how I thought that Mr. Canine was coming on a little strong? And I was a tiny bit skeeved at the frequent workday emails and the phone call?
Well, fuck that.
After two days of lovely, all-day e-banter, I came into work on Wednesday and there was NO reply to my most recent email. Well. The guy is busy, after all, with his cool creative job. It's not like I spend every day in front of my computer checking email every five minutes or anything. (It's every five seconds, OK?)
By the end of the torturous workday, I'd heard ZIP.
After I checked nonexistent email at 9 p.m., 9:13 p.m, 9:28 p.m., and 10:01 p.m., I started swearing out loud. (This is something I really hope happens in other one-person households). The wheels of obsession churned. I decided that he'd found my blog. I read it like four times to see if there was anything insulting in it, and concluded that the only negative c0mmentary had to do with his nascent listening skills, and if he took offense at that, well, it was bound to happen sooner or later. Then I imagined him walking in the park with some chick with a poodle. Then I imagined him coming to the conclusion that his "visual orientation" precluded dating a girl with bad hair (which I finally cut yesterday at a chi-chi salon recommended by R.) and skin that might be a good candidate for dermabrasian.
Of course, I reminded myself about twelve times (in between the swearing), that I myself had some reservations about our constant contact, which just might be a little too much, too soon.
I obsessed some more. I imagined my future as a JDate pariah. I imagined a future akin to that of Jennifer Aniston's character in Friends with Money.
Then I checked my email one last time, and opened a hilarious message from Mr. C that did not include the phrase "we need to talk" nor "you seem really great but ..."
This is the problem with dating and with e-banter. You can drum up an image of someone (hilarious, brilliant, and kind) and harbor it while your hope flutters around in your heart. Even as you tell yourself that there is an infinitesimal chance of falling in love and getting married and living in a condominium in the desirable neighborhood near where you live, you just can't help wishing and wanting and responding to emails as harbingers of happiness.
Posted by Dori at 10:03 AM
2 Comments
What can I say but "oy." I feel your pain, sister. But at least you know you are actively engaging in this obsessive behavior, and could probably talk yourself out of it if it became necessary. And there was a luscious email at the end of the dark tunnel of doubt. Is it possible that he deliberately kept you hanging in anticipation, so as not to seem too eager? The games people play.
Your last paragraph totally sums it up. I heartily agree. And this is why I hesitate to go through the online dating experience again. You can't really get to know someone through email for those very reasons. But if it works out, then it was all worth it, right?
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