Welcome to Friday, I’m in Love! This Friday series will share my tales, both funny and absurd, but mostly funny, from my real life as a crummy dater. Or, maybe just my crummy dates. Either way, these cautionary tales are public service announcements for the heart weary and hopeful – read wisely, carefully. These “types of dates” are rare breeds indeed, so, please, fellas, don’t be insulted – and also don’t be one of these guys. Ladies: interesting times, yes. On the bright side, I've already spent time with these quirky cats so you don’t have to and you’re welcome.
Volume Three - Mr AlmostPerfect
So, yeah, after all this time, this one still really, really bugs me. Not for anything more than when it was all said and done I ended up feeling like a super chump.
It’s a Thursday night, I’m at The Drake. You know those nights when you really don’t feel like going out, but once you commit you must also commit to having a good time because why be the downer? That was me on that Thursday night at The Drake. Mr AlmostPerfect started talking to me immediately. How lovely. He was lovely. And cute and ridiculously silly. His silliness was witty and clever so that also meant he was smart. The night was progressing rather well. I suppose in date-speak you could say I was picked up. I really hate that term, but we must all follow the vernacular, right? So, time to go and Mr AlmostPerfect writes down my email address and – get this – circles back after we’ve said our goodbye’s to ensure he’s reading it right. I’m impressed. But I force myself to immediately forget about him because the chances of him actually getting in touch with me are maybe 40%, even though we (in my opinion) totally hit it off and he was (in my friend’s opinion) totally into me. {This forgetting about him attempt was really just an attempt. Impossible!}.
Okay, Friday morning. At work. Feeling and looking a little worse for wear but all worth it. Totally worth it. I’m channeling positive thought territory by assuring myself that even if Mr AlmostPerfect never contacts me again, I had a great night so who cares. Moreover, it is possible to actually meet someone decent and normal with a good job and jazzy personality at a bar. It is possible to be picked up. Olga: 2 / Life Alone With Cats: 0. So, I’m feeling good.
How to feel better? You know it - Mr AlmostPerfect Emails Me! Amazing. Plans are made (by him! I told you: Mr AlmostPerfect!), off we go and for a time, it’s all quite great. He’s the requisite check mark on that long stupid list we make: funny/smart/well travelled/well read/great job/snappy dresser/thoughtful/proactive/ interesting … blah, blah, blah. So, imagine my shock / surprise when I get an email (don’t even get me started on the method here – an email? If this is a step above the post- it note, it’s a broken step above indeed.) that basically says: “You’re so great and so amazing, blah, blah, blah but I don’t think we share enough common interests for the long term.”
I will note now that Mr AlmostPerfect was really really sporty. He played soccer obsessively. He ran marathons for fun. He skied all winter in places where they helicoptered you to the mountain and dropped you from the helicopter so you could then ski down the mountain. Cool. For him. I believe the last word anyone would ever use to describe me is sporty and this, most specifically the skiing, was apparently a big problem for Mr AlmostPerfect. I, of course, just didn’t get it. If I went out with someone who only shared my common interests I’d be dating a gay guy (totally fine, but not for everything) and wouldn’t be expanding my own little brain for the something new. I really like this aspect of meeting new people – Show me! Tell me! Teach me! We did talk about it, but ultimately when one person makes this sort of decision, the 2nd person has no choice but to accept it. I’ve now (finally) come to believe this is completely true – you can’t change a person’s mind here because they are already out. So, we’re out. Bye, Bye Mr AlmostPerfect. I’m not going to lie: this one stung like a motherfucker. I wasn’t heartbroken, I was heartdemolished and will now publicly thank the friends who had to listen to my whining self talk about it until even I had nothing more to say. This took a long time.
After awhile though, things pick up as they do. Until of course, something else happens to take you right back. You see, I eventually discovered – completely innocently – that Mr AlmostPerfect, throughout the entire time we were whatever we were, had a girlfriend. Not a Lars and the Real Girl girlfriend, a real person serious girlfriend. She lived out of province and had, just before my discovery, moved here to do all the things real couples do, with Mr AlmostPerfect.
Jesus Christ. So now I’m not only heartdemolished, I’m braindemolished too? How did I not figure this out? Are my Spidey Senses broken? How could I be so stupid? He wanted to cut loose because we’re obviously not Mormons and I thought it was because I didn’t like to ski. Dumb. Dumb. Dumb. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
So that’s the story of Mr AlmostPerfect. Still stings like a motherfucker. Not because of what could have been, but because of what I did, albeit unknowingly, to this poor girl who actually thinks Mr AlmostPerfect is her Mr Perfect. How do you get over that?
this makes me so angry i want to track him down and give him a piece of my mind, regardless of how long ago it was!
ReplyDelete