In dating, nothing is ever secure or on a firm foundation. It’s like we are all building houses of cards instead of pouring concrete. The end result remains the same, cards fall down. Why can’t people understand that building anything substantial requires concrete?
In the right time and place, of course. Maybe if your cards hold up, you can build with straw, then sticks, then eventually bricks if the big bad wolves of the world don’t blow your house down.
In the meantime, toughen up sweetheart, because one wrong text and you are dropped like a cigarette butt out of the window during red alert fire season. One wrong text…this has happened to me more than once. This is why actual conversations, like on the telephone, are a must! But even when those have been happening, a wrong text can still bring the whole house down.
I’m on the throes of that faux paus now. I sent a wrong text at the wrong time, but I stand by it. I have to be me, he has to like me for me, so I consider it part of the process. As I feel the cards slowly tumbling, I am reminded that we are all entitled to pursue our own happiness. That includes me.
(Update, the house of has fallen down! I repeat, we have cards down….)
Another observation: People often have loose ends. I have tried to tie up all of mine before getting out there and inviting someone in to share my life but a lot of people don’t do that. I have a loose end detector and it makes me want to run away. I’m not sure if this is good- for protection- or bad, and causing me to miss out.
Now for some fun….
Stan, the Mostly Mute Man
The mostly mute man, I’ll call him Stan, lived in a teeny tiny town. He was 44, no kids, no ex-wives, decent job, seemed legit. I met up with him on a busy Sunday evening at a local burger bar after an out of town trip. We had drinks and things went ok. We agreed to meet again. We had coffee on a Tuesday and this is where things got a little off track.
He didn’t talk much. I was having a hard time keeping the conversation going, but chalked it up to nerves and shyness, which he claimed to have. But then, something else happened. He had an itch on the bottom of his foot. We were outside at a patio table. It was a nice fall evening. He kept trying to get at that itch on his foot.
I think feet are gross. Putting your fingers inside your shoe at the table is even grosser. But worst of all, taking off your shoe and sock to scratch your foot at the table….herp!
But, Shannon, my dating guru said to give it three dates before you decide you aren’t interested. If you think about it, that’s not much time. If each date is about 2 hours, you are summing up the entirety of a person in about 6 hours.
So we actually had 2 more dates. One was a group date, nothing much to report there. But the final date, that was the worst. We planned lunch and a movie. There was a couple of hours in between the meal and the film so we had some time to spend together. Not talking. I mean seriously, I would try to make conversation and he would answer in one word. It was the most boring date of my life. I considered phoning a friend for a rescue text.
Needless to say, there was no conversation which meant there was no chemistry. At the end of it all, I politely thanked him and went on my way. I didn’t hear from him again until a few weeks later when he told me he was super shy, and he also discovered that he had ‘white knight syndrome.’ The way he described this syndrome was that he felt the need to rescue women in financial peril. He asked for another chance. Sorry man, you got your three. That’s not the kind of thing I am looking for. That, and the foot thing. I can’t….(and I didn’t mention the whole thing about the 20 year old he dated before me….ummmm, gross, my son is almost 20. Nasty.) He was my last Snatch.com candidate. Thank goodness. I deleted that whack app and never looked back.
Next time, navigating communication when you don’t know what kind of thing you are in, this cool thing called Bumble, and the Guy Who Cried.
I wrecked it. Crazy.