Friday night around 2 a.m., I walked in the door to my house, sat down on the floor with Sammy and Thora, and cried. Sammy crawled in my lap and I asked him, “Would it really be so bad if it was just the three of us forever?”
Some of you sent me emails last week, after the last post, telling me that everything sounded great and to not worry about the situation with the blog being “out.” But. But. After a back and forth with a couple of you, it seems that not only did I present the most positive of lights, but I left something out that significantly changed how I felt about the present situation with one Sherlock. Sigh.
I was doing well until Wednesday last week. (Woo hoo, I made it 4 whole days without freaking out!) But as I was leaving to pick up Sweet so we could punk out our hair and hit the Poison concert, Sherlock called. He said he knew I didn’t like surprises but he got a ticket to the concert. There was some back and forth about me just wanting to go with my friend, and him saying he wouldn’t come out there unless he could hang out with me. The details are unimportant, but just know that I did not embrace this plan. When I make plans with girlfriends, I make plans with girlfriends. And I don’t bring guys along who I happen to be dating. It’s just not cool. And it felt like too much.
I got a couple text messages during the concert that were suspect due to their timing. One came at Poison’s first break. Another came with a song reference while they were playing said song. I’ve described that feeling of having the walls close in on you, and this just reminded me of that feeling. I’m not comfortable with the idea of being in a huge crowd, knowing someone is probably there looking for me. It’s eerie. That’s all I have to say about that. Eerie. For a woman who has already had a stalker, this is not a good feeling.
I didn’t post this because both he and his tip off friend are reading. And that whole idea makes me ill. But, it’s the price I pay for not being 100% anon.
When he admits he was at the concert, I just start to unravel. And, right on schedule, here we go. We have a big talk Thursday. I’m trying, I have to tell you guys, I’m trying. I had a six year relationship and the day we broke up I was ready to date. But I’ve had a couple two-monthers and they have fucking killed me. I just can’t get into all this deep talk and such. He wanted to meet up on Thursday night to get this drama infused talk out of the way. No. No, and NO. I didn’t want to do that. I just wanted to go hang with my dogs since they were neglected the night before and catch up on some sleep. We stuck with having our plans for Friday.
Friday night I left my house with an open mind. We went to eat. We played pool. We were playing darts and waiting for a table, and he was firing off some questions, then sort of put me on the spot by asking what else I wanted to know about him. I don’t view this getting to know you period as a race, and I really just ask questions as I think of them. So I, probably nastily, said, “Is this an interview?” Look, I know. I don’t have a lot of finesse when I’m feeling cornered. Which I was. I honestly just wanted to drink beer and play pool.
Let me screech ahead because this is just going on too long. Pool is over, and we head back to his place for the old “Let’s have one more drink but we both know we are going to fool around” finale to the evening.
When one person is into the other, you get the vibe. You can’t fake that feeling toward someone. It comes across in gestures and comments without much effort. Then we had a conversation that went something like this. Forgive me, the details aren’t exact, and shit, I’m sure someone will critique since they have been very busy hitting up the Velvet in Dupont blog today. Fucking annoying. Anyway, convo mode.
Me: I’m not there.
Him: I know.
There was some conversation that got us to this next exchange, but I don’t remember what it was.
Me: I couldn’t have the kind of sex with you that I would want to have if there was a relationship here.
Him: What? What does that mean? What do you want? Do you even know?
Me: I want someone I can have sex with but not have the relationship part.
Him: That’s a brave thing to say.
Me: Yeah. I guess. Look. I am not the girl you want me to be. I just can’t be that right now.
Him: What if I said I was hesitant too?
Me: Then I think we should rewind this past week and do it all over. Because you were giving off all the signs.
Him: Ok, I guess I was.
Me: You say all the right things. You do. But I was on the noncommittal express and you pulled the bait and switch. You said you didn’t want a relationship in your profile. For 95% of women, what you are saying would be gold. But it’s just not for me.
So, we get our things together and he’s going to drive me back home. At that point I probably would have just let me walk if I were him, but whatever. So, on the ride:
Him: I think you do want a relationship.
Me: You know, last winter the man who runs DC Blogs said to me that my blog was good because it just goes and goes, and that most dating blog writers end up in a relationship and get boring. There is a reason for that Sherlock.
So he drops me off, and wants to park the car. I said no. He asked what I was going to write so he didn’t have to look. I said, “I’m going to write that I’m surprised by myself because I could have had what I thought I wanted, and I really don’t want it at all.”
That’s when I walked in and sat on the floor with Sammy and Thora and cried. Sometimes a seemingly insignificant relationship burns you so badly that you can’t stop stumbling with everyone else who comes along. I know you all will see tremendous irony in this, because I’m so honest on this blog, but, I’ve become the most guarded I’ve ever been in my life.
I finally got off the floor and went to walk the dogs. When I was outside with them, I got a text from Sherlock asking me to call him. I did, and after a couple words back and forth I said, “I’m done. I’m talked out. No more talking.” And on that, we hung up.