After some serious over-analysis of last night’s—or last week’s (depending on when I post this or when you read this I guess, whatever catch up here)—disaster as per my relentless, neurotic M.O., I’ve realized what a disease my involuntary fantasies can be. You know the ones. You meet a guy and one thing or another leads you to think, “hm he could be kinda great.” And this naturally leads to thoughts of which matching sweater vests you should wear in your Christmas card picture. Even though logically you know it probably won’t get past the first few glasses of wine after you somehow manage to insult his mother, favorite sports team and haircut—in that order. It’s hard to keep your mind from trotting along to some blissful utopian where he is thoughtfully arty, hates watching football and loves doing dishes.
Anyway, multiple times last evening (and a few this morning) I thought I should give Jonny Come Not At All the benefit of the doubt for reasons that solely existed in my head. Because he never really bothered to give me a solid explanation or a decent apology for that matter. I thought I owed him a bit of understanding as a basic human courtesy. Then my friends lovingly pointed out that I, in fact, owe this guy nothing. I don’t know him from Adam and he had done nothing leading up to this point to suggest he deserved the courtesy of Mother-Theresa-like patience. He certainly didn’t do me any favors with the way he mishandled the situation. So good riddance Prince Charming turned Duke Detestable, I wash my hands of you!
But maybe not always? I mean, yes, the only reason I would give this guy or some other putz another chance at a first impression would be the hope of potential. And we certainly shouldn’t be building our relationships on mythical potential. Unless you want to end up writing a blog on dating years after the thing crumbles to embarrassing pieces of wasted dreams. In that case, knock yourself out. Still, I look at how easy it is for some people to pick up relationships like they’re on sale on J.C. Penny, and I have to wonder if they don’t pursue the things heavily despite a few major stumbles even early on.
It’s not an issue of settling, because these people seem to date eligible partners. The only thing that throws me is how quickly they can make these relationships happen. And I think maybe I’m doing it wrong? Maybe I need to make more of an effort to pursue that fantasy despite a few early glitches? I’m not exactly sure where I’m going with this because I really don’t think that is the route I should take. Especially in this particular case. Because dude obviously doesn’t give a damn about the impression he made so why in the world would bother with him? But I do tend to give up pretty easily. Typically all it takes is an empty promise to call and I’m handing my number to the next guy. Maybe this just means I’m not as desperate as I think I am. Oh man, wouldn’t that be great? If the only reason I haven’t found my Shnoodlecoot (I’m using that little number on the next lucky guy for sure) is because I simply don’t want it bad enough?
The thing is I think I have too much pride to give someone a second opportunity to disrespect me. The biggest complaint I have about last night isn’t that the date didn’t happen. It’s that I allowed the whole thing to be strung out and I became a bit of a fool because of it. I should have simply told him to forget it at least one of the three times he drug the wait-time out. Not because my time was wasted—it wasn’t really I got some good blog time in—but because my gentle little ego had be kicked around several times over the course of one evening. That oughta learn me for next time. Five minutes late because your sick grandma needed help with her meds? Unforgiveable sir, I don’t need this nonsense from you!