The "O" In "We're Done"
I promised Mr. O that I would not malign him on my blog.
This is not hard. First, because I strive not to malign anyone (blog-wise or otherwise), and secondly, because he's a perfectly lovely guy who was nothing but kind to me.
I will say, however, that Mr. O was weird on Christmas. He was edgy and over-the-top and tense. After the dim sum and the movie, he declined my invitation to come over and talk about how Little Children might have made him feel about his divorce (the movie is about the darkness behind seemingly perfect marriages in suburbia; he can relate). I felt a sinking sense of impending doom. Since the beginning, I have definitely had my own reservations about "us", which I have not expressed here because of the whole maligning thing. I sensed that Mr. O was done, and this made me feel more anxiety than heartbreak. I wanted to know.
Things were weird all week. In the past (and by which I mean, the first five weeks of our six-week-long "relationship"), Mr. O emailed and called me every day and initiated plans. This week he was vague and reticent. It sucked. I talked to a million friends about it. I thought maybe we were just experiencing "the Switch", which, according to Dr. Judith Sills, the brilliant author of A Fine Romance, is what happens when the "pursuer" in a relationship backs off and the "pursued" freaks out.
Everyone was supportive and kind and said versions of: He gave you an iPod. Last week. How could things possibly change so much, so fast?
Well, last night he called and we had an awkward conversation which included the phrases: "We need to talk", "You deserve better than me", "You're an amazing person", and "We can still be friends".
I can say, with all honesty, that I am not upset about him. Yes, he was sweet and great and optimistic and I've had an awesome six weeks. But there were truly many fundamental mismatches. What sucks is that this has to end now. I'd be up for another month of fun, fine food, and furniture assembly. Maybe two months. OK, maybe three. Anything to prolong the inevitable return to dating.
Last year, at New Year's, I resolved to find the love of my life. You all know I made many valiant attempts. I dated a whole lot of nice (but ultimately inappropriate) guys. Code Boy wrote me a macro. Another guy bestowed flowers and pharmaceutical pens upon me. I learned some military stuff from a guy with the same full name as another guy I dated. And I had prolonged encounters (by which I mean multiple dates that included kissing) with Mr. O, Mr. Canine, Mr. Entrepreneur, and Souffle Boy.
It is deeply discouraging to work so hard for something and not get it.
Maybe my 2007 resolution should be to stop caring so much.
Labels: dating
Posted by Dori at 9:07 AM
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