I had to do something to make myself feel better. I had to. Had had had. So I did something normally reserved for leaner times: I went fishing out of the recycling bin.
Actually, that’s not entirely true. In my Craigslist forays, I’ve met a total of five men. But there was one who escaped me – CL#2BlueEyes. We had incredible email banter (he loves bad date stories too) and some phone messages that never quite got returned – on both parts. Forgetting the score, and not really caring, I shot him an email Monday afternoon. I tested out my line that I wanted to use on CL#4NewJersey. Hope they’re not friends. Anyway, here’s what it said.
Velvet: OMG! What happened to you? Did you die? Should I come to your funeral? I still have Willie Nelson on my phone, you know, if you want to hear it again.
(In previous emails, he made a lot of fun of my ringback songs, Willie being one of them.)
Reply arrives in 1 minute.
CL#2BlueEyes: Arrangements have been made through Pete’s Mortuary. Floral arrangements can be sent to Nashville. This is pretty funny, I was thinking about trying to reconnect with you this weekend!
Well. Well. Well. I could actually complete my collection. First Five Fellows From Fraigslist. Shut up, it sounds dumb if the last word doesn’t start with an “F.” Did I mention this one is hot?
We continued to email, moved to IM and had a great conversation, essentially picking up where we left off six weeks ago. I thought about thanking him for ditching me and leaving me with the others in his CL Graduating Class. Who can forget the likes of CL#1Writer (a.k.a. the octopus) and CL#3TextTormenter (who still calls me) but I figure I can still pretend to be a CL Virgin. He asked what my week looked like, I told him, and he said, “Thursday, 7:30, meet me at X restaurant in Clarendon.” I love a man with a plan. And, Fabu! I’ve recovered. And it sure as shit put a smile on my face. I guess half the disappointment of losing a man in your life is the idea of getting out there again and starting all over. But lucky for me, one was lounging in the recycling bin and had not been taken from the curb.
In other news, I decided to do what I have been pondering. I chose the middle ground and sent CL#4NewJersey a text message. Yeah yeah yeah, I know. I hate them and bitch about them. But I didn’t want to send an email, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to call so I could stutter over my words. The text simply said: “It is very sad to hear of your death. But, did I miss the funeral?” Peeps please. Don’t lecture me. I made the right decision for me. It’s snarky, and to me, it gets my point across. It says: “I’ve noticed your untimely disappearance from my life and really just wanted you to know that I know.” It doesn’t cry for a call back, it doesn’t sound needy.
Anyway, a late night text message volley ensued.
CL#4NJ: I just emerged from a coma.
I wanted to sleep on it and figure out what sort of response I would toss back, but he sent another text.
CL#4NJ: You know…my phone accepts incoming calls.
Never one to follow directions, I wrote back instead of calling. I know…I should have called.
Velvet: You are one of the most impossible men I have ever gone out with.
CL#4NJ: I’mpossibly handsome?
Velvet: I don’t know. I forgot what you look like.
CL#4NJ: Go to bed. We’ll talk.
Look. Whatever. I did what I wanted to. So far I have a non-answer, but so what. I know I’m going to get a rash of shit from half of you. But I did the right thing for me. I was stewing all weekend and there was no way I wasn’t going to send some sort of message.
Also, please try to understand something. While I truly enjoy dating, getting shit on by dates, and utilizing other bloggers to torture assholes who prove themselves as such before I find myself out on a date with them, I don’t want to do this forever. I don’t want to wake up at 60 with no family and nothing to look back on because I was a bitter hag while I was dating. I’m trying to bend. I’m trying to release some of my control issues, and as such, I had to say to myself, “What if he’s sitting at home wondering if I even like him?”
I get it. The book the book the book. Fuck that book. What has that book done for me lately? In case anyone was keeping score, I’m still single. The book says if he doesn’t chase me, he’s not interested – I know. But life isn’t black and white. I have had a handful of great relationships and they all needed nurturing and cultivating. Besides, I like this guy. It’s not like the 800 others who I couldn’t stand, ran home from or felt lukewarm about. I’m not getting any younger, and this tough chick attitude isn’t fucking working anymore. So it’s a late New Years resolution-amendment but I’m going to bend and be more flexible with men. And we’ll see where it gets me. By June, I might be eating my words. And for all I know, when he and I “talk” he’ll tell me he’s gay, or the ubiquitous ex-girlfriend popped back in his life.
At least I can say I tried.