I had one (crazy) date with Harry Potter, and then he went on vacation with his family for 12 days. I like my family, but TWELVE days? Hell no.
Sure enough, upon his return, he emailed me a trip report (including photos), his thoughts on the book Princess Bride (which we discovered we were both starting during our first date), and an inquiry about when we might get together again.
One of my friends had suggested that I should maybe give the guy a solid second chance. After all, he was tall, not ugly, smart, and employed. All things I look for in a potential mate. Of course he was also really weird--and not in a way I enjoyed--and lived really far from me and had a dog, but since I'm all about being open these days, I agreed to his suggestion of a date, and we scheduled a Sunday night at Lambert's.
Lambert's is a BBQ joint. He'd told me on our first date that he was vegetarian at home due to health issues, but ate meat in restaurants. . .and followed that up with a story about going to Fogo de Chao with friends. Apparently, he was seeking to prove his public meat-eating ways with his restaurant choice. Except, when we ordered, he went with the daily fish special. Uhhh. . .??
Anyway, the date was fine. A little boring. Somewhat less weird that the first date: he only put his head down on the table briefly to laugh. He acted like he thought I may have been using some sort of mind control game on him when I told him the book I'd just started reading because it was next on his list, too. I was reading the book for book club, he was reading it because a friend of his suggested it. Obviously, I took this opportunity to make vague references to Dark Arts (Harry Potter humor, ha ha ha!) and joked that it was possible the friend who recommended the book to him was the same person who suggested it to my book club and they were definitely probably an evil sorceror whose name we should never speak. (He who must not be named, ha ha ha!) I couldn't tell if he was joking with the idea that I'd somehow influenced him to read the book, or if he honestly believed I might be able to do something like that. Not being able to tell if someone is joking is a fairly good indicator to me that we are not on any sort of future date track.
He walked me to my car after dinner, and I mentally prepared myself for another weird hug. (When he hugged me--twice--during our first date, he did some sort of weird floppy thing with his hand on my back. Try this right now: flip your hand back to front pretty quickly, and then give yourself a slight squeeze with that same hand. A little creepy, right?) Instead, he said "How about a kiss?" and leaned towards me with his face scrunched up and lips pressed out like a fish.
I almost pushed him away from me. Somehow, I restrained my hands, and squealed out "Oh the cheek?" as I turned my head. He opened his eyes, fish mouth intact, to see if I was indeed offering my cheek. He gave me a light kiss there. I started backing away from him. "I might be getting a cold, see. . ." I fumbled with my words and my keys. "I don't want you to catch anything. . ." He said he didn't care, but I responded that I did as I jumped into my car and waved. Ugh.
As soon as I arrived home, I emailed him to apologize for the awkward ending to our evening, and to tell him that I'd suddenly realized I wasn't feeling a romantic connection to him, so I couldn't in good conscience give him a kiss. Or, I don't know. . .I said something nice and normal and actually probably pretty weird. He responded that he understood and thanked me for letting him know and wished me luck. Evanesco!*
*I learned this on the internet; it's the name of the vanishing spell from Harry Potter.
Tuesday, October 23, 2012
Thursday, October 4, 2012
Last Chance
It's time to wrap up the story of Sgt. Younger, and move along.
The Sgt. was not keeping up at keeping in touch with me, but we finally found a time to go out. We had dinner and afterwards adjourned to my house. Our conversation ranged all over the map; we even talked about the economy. Although--I confess--during that portion of the conversation I was having trouble concentrating on talk about the gold standard because his arm was around me and we were snuggled up on the couch. He stayed over, he accidentally left his watch behind. I returned it a couple of days later, dropping it off on my way home from a workout. I felt giggly around him.
Still, he remained mostly out of touch. Every time I got in touch with him felt like I was begging him for attention. I felt like I was looking at him from the end of a very long street; I could barely see him.
He suggested we get together for a Sunday Funday: he wanted to shop the farmer's market, make lunch, and spend the day together. I was almost giddy at the idea. Even saying it outloud was grin-inducing. Sunday Funday! Naturally, we didn't decide on a time. I didn't press him on it. I was chill with the easy-going flow.
That Sunday, he texted me around 10am. Turns out the Farmer's Market isn't open on Sundays. How about lunch at 1:30? I agreed, and wondered if our day would still be fun. Would we be making lunch? Going for a swim? How long was this date going to last?
I texted him when I left my house: Sunday Funday! I'm on my way, see you in 5.
(no response)
I arrived at the gate of his complex, and dialed his code: "I'm sorry, this voice mail box is full."
(hmmm)
I texted him again: I'm at your gate, and your vm box is full. I guess I'll wait and follow someone else in?
(nothing. about 5 minutes later, I followed someone else in.)
Another text: I'm in! I guess I'll be knocking on your door shortly.
(silence.) I decided to give him a few minutes. Maybe he was in the shower? Maybe he had run out to the store and was driving back? I sat in my car for 5 minutes before knocking on his door.
No answer. I called him; no answer, voicemail full. I knocked again. Still no answer. Hmmm.
Text: Hey, I'm knocking on your door, but you're not answering. Not sure what to do here!
This whole process had taken about 20 minutes. I suddenly had a terrible thought: he's dead in his apartment. He's fallen in the shower and he can't get up. He alcohol poisoned himself, and is dying on the couch. Something has gone horrible wrong. My heart started to race. I didn't know the protocol for that sort of situation. Go home? Knock/call/text some more? I was very worried. I knocked again. Again, nothing.
I decided to press my ear against his door to see if I could hear anything inside. Like, shouts for help? I don't know. As I leaned against the door, straining for a sound, the door opened slightly. It wasn't locked.
Oh. Oh shit.
Now what? My heart was about to pound out through my chest. I got out my cell phone, put down my bag, and opened the door.
"Sgt.?"
"Sgt.? It's Myname!"
Silence. Total silence.
I went inside, and started walking towards his bedroom, where the door was barely open. I kept saying his name, and mine. I was three-quarters of the way there, when his door flew open. I froze with a gasp.
"Oh, hey," he said. "I was asleep."
That's right. He'd spend the night drinking with his friends, came home in the wee hours, took a nap, got up and texted me and started cleaning around his place, laid down in his bed, and fell asleep. A very deep sleep apparently. His phone ringer was off. He had no idea why his voicemail would be full. He was really, really sorry.
I took a few deep breaths to calm myself down. "I thought you were dead." I turned away from him and walked back towards the door. "I'm going to go."
I didn't want to be there anymore. I didn't want to have any sort of day with him. I was annoyed, and I felt like a crazy person. Who goes into someone's home under those circumstances? Why couldn't I have just texted him to get in touch with me when he could because I was worried, and gone home? I just felt done.
But, he came after me. He gave me a hug and told me he wanted to go to lunch. He just needed a minute to get ready. (He was pretty disheveled. I briefly wondered when his last shower might have been.) I told him I'd wait outside.
I almost drove off. But, I made myself stay. I felt like I needed to make an effort to let him know I was not okay with how the day was going, but also make an effort to let it go. I am a grudge-holder, a pouter. If I could get over this, I would feel like a better person.
In his car, on the way to lunch, I told him I was having a hard time. But I didn't explain myself well, and he spent the time trying to act like this wasn't weird or a big deal. Maybe he's been on other dates that began with a lady waking him up from a hungover stupor in the past? I don't know, but I don't want occurances like that to be a part of my life. I'm well out of college.
Lunch was okay. Afterwards, he suggested watching a movie. I asked him if he wanted me to go, so he could take a nap "or whatever" but he insisted that he wanted me to stay. We started watching Goodfellas or some mafia movie he found on television. He kept yawning. I asked him again if he wanted to take a nap. No, no, of course not. More movie. More yawning. I told him I was going to go, and he said he'd probably be asleep within minutes after I left. Whatever, dude.
He'd planned a road trip with friends for the next weekend, and we texted briefly a couple of times before he left. He aplogized again "for being such a dud" and I wished him well on his road trip. The week after he returned, I didn't hear from him, so that Thursday I left him a voicemail.
"Hey! I hope you had a fun trip. I thought you might be starting to miss me, so I called to catch up. Give me a buzz!"
Nothing. So that Saturday--almost two weeks after the not at all Funday Sunday--I left another message:
"Hi. Since I haven't heard from you, I assume you've decided to just stop talking to me. If that's the case, I'm feeling disappointed, because I expected better from you, and that's a chickenshit move. If we aren't going to talk again, I'll just take this opportunity to let you know that I've enjoyed starting to get to know you, and had fun spending time with you. Take care."
Much nicer a message than I felt like leaving, but I didn't want to be ugly. I just wanted to tell him the truth.
Couple of hours later, he texted me:
"Whoa! Just heard the beginning of your message, and I certainly don't intend to just stop contact. I hurt my back over the weekend and have felt terrible all week. I didn't feel like talking."
Huh. Or texting? Really? REALLY?
Me: "I'm sorry you're hurt. I wish you'd listened to my entire message."
Him: I just listened to the whole thing.
M: Look (Sgt.), I like you, and I like spending time with you. I haven't heard from you in a while or seen you in a while, and felt ignored. I thought you were the kind of person who would tell me if you weren't in to me or whatever, so I was surprised when I just heard nothing from you.
H: I'm sorry I hurt your feelings. This has been a bad week.
M: I hope you feel better soon. Please let me know if you need anything.
H: Thx. I'll get in touch when I feel better.
(Yeah, right.)
Except he did text a couple of days later. We had a brief text chat about how he was starting to feel better. The next evening, I texted him, and we went back and forth a couple of times. It seemed flirty, and fun. My last text said "Hey, do you have plans for Friday night?"
And I never heard from him again.
And I (so far) haven't run into him in our grocery store, either. I bet he's shopping at odd times to avoid me. Sometimes I wonder how I would react if I rounded the corner of the bread aisle, and there he was, right in front of me. Would I smile? Pretend I didn't know him? Freeze and gasp for breath? I may never know.
The Sgt. was not keeping up at keeping in touch with me, but we finally found a time to go out. We had dinner and afterwards adjourned to my house. Our conversation ranged all over the map; we even talked about the economy. Although--I confess--during that portion of the conversation I was having trouble concentrating on talk about the gold standard because his arm was around me and we were snuggled up on the couch. He stayed over, he accidentally left his watch behind. I returned it a couple of days later, dropping it off on my way home from a workout. I felt giggly around him.
Still, he remained mostly out of touch. Every time I got in touch with him felt like I was begging him for attention. I felt like I was looking at him from the end of a very long street; I could barely see him.
He suggested we get together for a Sunday Funday: he wanted to shop the farmer's market, make lunch, and spend the day together. I was almost giddy at the idea. Even saying it outloud was grin-inducing. Sunday Funday! Naturally, we didn't decide on a time. I didn't press him on it. I was chill with the easy-going flow.
That Sunday, he texted me around 10am. Turns out the Farmer's Market isn't open on Sundays. How about lunch at 1:30? I agreed, and wondered if our day would still be fun. Would we be making lunch? Going for a swim? How long was this date going to last?
I texted him when I left my house: Sunday Funday! I'm on my way, see you in 5.
(no response)
I arrived at the gate of his complex, and dialed his code: "I'm sorry, this voice mail box is full."
(hmmm)
I texted him again: I'm at your gate, and your vm box is full. I guess I'll wait and follow someone else in?
(nothing. about 5 minutes later, I followed someone else in.)
Another text: I'm in! I guess I'll be knocking on your door shortly.
(silence.) I decided to give him a few minutes. Maybe he was in the shower? Maybe he had run out to the store and was driving back? I sat in my car for 5 minutes before knocking on his door.
No answer. I called him; no answer, voicemail full. I knocked again. Still no answer. Hmmm.
Text: Hey, I'm knocking on your door, but you're not answering. Not sure what to do here!
This whole process had taken about 20 minutes. I suddenly had a terrible thought: he's dead in his apartment. He's fallen in the shower and he can't get up. He alcohol poisoned himself, and is dying on the couch. Something has gone horrible wrong. My heart started to race. I didn't know the protocol for that sort of situation. Go home? Knock/call/text some more? I was very worried. I knocked again. Again, nothing.
I decided to press my ear against his door to see if I could hear anything inside. Like, shouts for help? I don't know. As I leaned against the door, straining for a sound, the door opened slightly. It wasn't locked.
Oh. Oh shit.
Now what? My heart was about to pound out through my chest. I got out my cell phone, put down my bag, and opened the door.
"Sgt.?"
"Sgt.? It's Myname!"
Silence. Total silence.
I went inside, and started walking towards his bedroom, where the door was barely open. I kept saying his name, and mine. I was three-quarters of the way there, when his door flew open. I froze with a gasp.
"Oh, hey," he said. "I was asleep."
That's right. He'd spend the night drinking with his friends, came home in the wee hours, took a nap, got up and texted me and started cleaning around his place, laid down in his bed, and fell asleep. A very deep sleep apparently. His phone ringer was off. He had no idea why his voicemail would be full. He was really, really sorry.
I took a few deep breaths to calm myself down. "I thought you were dead." I turned away from him and walked back towards the door. "I'm going to go."
I didn't want to be there anymore. I didn't want to have any sort of day with him. I was annoyed, and I felt like a crazy person. Who goes into someone's home under those circumstances? Why couldn't I have just texted him to get in touch with me when he could because I was worried, and gone home? I just felt done.
But, he came after me. He gave me a hug and told me he wanted to go to lunch. He just needed a minute to get ready. (He was pretty disheveled. I briefly wondered when his last shower might have been.) I told him I'd wait outside.
I almost drove off. But, I made myself stay. I felt like I needed to make an effort to let him know I was not okay with how the day was going, but also make an effort to let it go. I am a grudge-holder, a pouter. If I could get over this, I would feel like a better person.
In his car, on the way to lunch, I told him I was having a hard time. But I didn't explain myself well, and he spent the time trying to act like this wasn't weird or a big deal. Maybe he's been on other dates that began with a lady waking him up from a hungover stupor in the past? I don't know, but I don't want occurances like that to be a part of my life. I'm well out of college.
Lunch was okay. Afterwards, he suggested watching a movie. I asked him if he wanted me to go, so he could take a nap "or whatever" but he insisted that he wanted me to stay. We started watching Goodfellas or some mafia movie he found on television. He kept yawning. I asked him again if he wanted to take a nap. No, no, of course not. More movie. More yawning. I told him I was going to go, and he said he'd probably be asleep within minutes after I left. Whatever, dude.
He'd planned a road trip with friends for the next weekend, and we texted briefly a couple of times before he left. He aplogized again "for being such a dud" and I wished him well on his road trip. The week after he returned, I didn't hear from him, so that Thursday I left him a voicemail.
"Hey! I hope you had a fun trip. I thought you might be starting to miss me, so I called to catch up. Give me a buzz!"
Nothing. So that Saturday--almost two weeks after the not at all Funday Sunday--I left another message:
"Hi. Since I haven't heard from you, I assume you've decided to just stop talking to me. If that's the case, I'm feeling disappointed, because I expected better from you, and that's a chickenshit move. If we aren't going to talk again, I'll just take this opportunity to let you know that I've enjoyed starting to get to know you, and had fun spending time with you. Take care."
Much nicer a message than I felt like leaving, but I didn't want to be ugly. I just wanted to tell him the truth.
Couple of hours later, he texted me:
"Whoa! Just heard the beginning of your message, and I certainly don't intend to just stop contact. I hurt my back over the weekend and have felt terrible all week. I didn't feel like talking."
Huh. Or texting? Really? REALLY?
Me: "I'm sorry you're hurt. I wish you'd listened to my entire message."
Him: I just listened to the whole thing.
M: Look (Sgt.), I like you, and I like spending time with you. I haven't heard from you in a while or seen you in a while, and felt ignored. I thought you were the kind of person who would tell me if you weren't in to me or whatever, so I was surprised when I just heard nothing from you.
H: I'm sorry I hurt your feelings. This has been a bad week.
M: I hope you feel better soon. Please let me know if you need anything.
H: Thx. I'll get in touch when I feel better.
(Yeah, right.)
Except he did text a couple of days later. We had a brief text chat about how he was starting to feel better. The next evening, I texted him, and we went back and forth a couple of times. It seemed flirty, and fun. My last text said "Hey, do you have plans for Friday night?"
And I never heard from him again.
And I (so far) haven't run into him in our grocery store, either. I bet he's shopping at odd times to avoid me. Sometimes I wonder how I would react if I rounded the corner of the bread aisle, and there he was, right in front of me. Would I smile? Pretend I didn't know him? Freeze and gasp for breath? I may never know.
Monday, October 1, 2012
You Give me Fever
Sgt. Younger had suggested that we should get together before he left town on vacation, and I told him to let me know when he was free. Following up on his suggestions like this was not one of Sgt. Younger's strong suits. I didn't hear from him.
Three days later (Saturday), I had what I have to assume was the plague. I could barely stay awake for more than a couple of hours at a time, and I had a raging fever. I could eat, but I could barely breathe or talk. I can't recall a time when I'd felt so sick. So much for Sgt. Younger keeping his germs to himself. So much for my cavalier "who cares about germs!" attitude.
Yet, I called him Sunday evening to wish him a good trip. No answer: I left a voicemail. I acted like I felt fine. I'd done a shot of cough medicine before the call, and my voice even sounded pretty normal. Why I wanted to keep my illness a secret from Patient Zero, I have no idea. I'm sure it couldn't be that I wanted to seem carefree and need-free. I've always side-eyed girls who act helpless at the sign of a sniffle. "Bring me orange juice! I need medicine! Snuggle me!" Okay, if I had felt like actually taking a shower that weekend, I may have accepted a snuggle.
He texted me Monday afternoon, and said he was in the airport on a layover, halfway home. I assured him that a day spent in airports was probably better than a day at work. Not that I'd know, I was still holding down my couch at home. He told me he'd call me later. He did not.
I didn't know when to expect him back in Austin, but I assumed it would be Sunday. He'd said he was going for a week, and most people come back to start the next work week on a Monday, right? I thought I'd hear from him on Monday. Because who takes time from their vacation to call someone back home? Or finds an extra 20 seconds to send a "wish you were here!" text? Not Sgt. Younger. But, I heard nothing on Monday.
I heard nothing on Tuesday.
I heard nothing on Wednesday. W T F? I decided I would probably just never hear from him again and even though the idea of that was pretty confusing, I chalked it up to me being unwise in the ways of today's dating world/youth. You invite a gal on your family hometown vacation one week and just stop talking to her by the next, right? These things happen? Hmpf.
Thursday night, close to 10 pm, I received a text from the wayward Sgt.: "Hey! I got back early Tuesday and hit the ground running. I hope we can catch up soon."
Hmmm. I decided that World's Best Hugs edged out World's Worst Phone/Text Communicator, and I responded: "Hi! Glad you came back! I'd like to get together soon, too. Just let me know what works for your schedule!"
No response. Followed by three days of radio silence.
Three days later (Saturday), I had what I have to assume was the plague. I could barely stay awake for more than a couple of hours at a time, and I had a raging fever. I could eat, but I could barely breathe or talk. I can't recall a time when I'd felt so sick. So much for Sgt. Younger keeping his germs to himself. So much for my cavalier "who cares about germs!" attitude.
Yet, I called him Sunday evening to wish him a good trip. No answer: I left a voicemail. I acted like I felt fine. I'd done a shot of cough medicine before the call, and my voice even sounded pretty normal. Why I wanted to keep my illness a secret from Patient Zero, I have no idea. I'm sure it couldn't be that I wanted to seem carefree and need-free. I've always side-eyed girls who act helpless at the sign of a sniffle. "Bring me orange juice! I need medicine! Snuggle me!" Okay, if I had felt like actually taking a shower that weekend, I may have accepted a snuggle.
He texted me Monday afternoon, and said he was in the airport on a layover, halfway home. I assured him that a day spent in airports was probably better than a day at work. Not that I'd know, I was still holding down my couch at home. He told me he'd call me later. He did not.
I didn't know when to expect him back in Austin, but I assumed it would be Sunday. He'd said he was going for a week, and most people come back to start the next work week on a Monday, right? I thought I'd hear from him on Monday. Because who takes time from their vacation to call someone back home? Or finds an extra 20 seconds to send a "wish you were here!" text? Not Sgt. Younger. But, I heard nothing on Monday.
I heard nothing on Tuesday.
I heard nothing on Wednesday. W T F? I decided I would probably just never hear from him again and even though the idea of that was pretty confusing, I chalked it up to me being unwise in the ways of today's dating world/youth. You invite a gal on your family hometown vacation one week and just stop talking to her by the next, right? These things happen? Hmpf.
Thursday night, close to 10 pm, I received a text from the wayward Sgt.: "Hey! I got back early Tuesday and hit the ground running. I hope we can catch up soon."
Hmmm. I decided that World's Best Hugs edged out World's Worst Phone/Text Communicator, and I responded: "Hi! Glad you came back! I'd like to get together soon, too. Just let me know what works for your schedule!"
No response. Followed by three days of radio silence.
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