Last night I went out on a second date with the guy from last week. We went to a nice bar that I had been to before. Like the last one, it was very dark and intimate, with couches, cushions, and candles around the room. The conversation started slowly, as we had covered just about everything in the 4 hours we spent together the previous week.
I was drinking slowly, too, because I'm just coming off a stomach virus, and I'm always tired on Fridays. I didn't want to drink myself into yawning on a date with a guy who gives me butterflies. But for all my efforts to drink slowly, he kept insisting that I keep up. He wanted me to have more and more drinks. We discussed our families, spirituality, the Seattle grunge scene, his livelihood, all in the midst of some really, really hot making out.
Before I went on the date, I was insistent that I wasn't going to make out with him at the bar again. No no, I was going to play hard to get this time. I wanted him to know that he'd have to work to charm me. Although I wasn't instantly attracted to him when I met him, last night I was insanely attracted to him. I really, really like him. He looked so good, and I could only ward him off for so long before I finally caved. We kissed, and kissed, and kissed, and there's a long period of time that we were kissing that I don't even remember, until the part where he suggested that we go back to his place and watch a movie.
Most of this sitcom's viewers probably realize that's not likely to happen at this stage in the episode. I, however, do actually believe that we'll watch the movie, then we'll probably make out on his couch a bit more, then I'll go home. I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN BETTER.
We went back to his place and I know he likes scary movies, so I picked "Exorcism of Emily Rose" which I did really want to see. At first we were sitting on the couch. Then the light goes off. Then he wants me to lie down next to him. He has his arm wrapped around me; he wants to make sure I'm comfortable. I was happy. He definitely kept wanting to make out, but I tried to keep him in check while I was watching the movie. And like everything else, eventually he won and the movie was turned off.
Some more hot making out ensued on his bed. The making out was a little hotter than I had intended, but it was HOT. I was taken aback that this kind of quiet, smart, funny, cute, slender guy was pulling moves like he was pulling. But no doubt I was enjoying myself.
So the whole night sounds great, until the next 60 seconds: after we had stopped making out, we both nodded off for a moment. I got up to go to the bathroom and when I came back, something had changed. He was up, getting dressed; he was trying to help me find my shirt. It had suddenly become very, very apparent to me that he wanted me to leave.
There is little that is more upsetting, offensive, insulting than that.
I quickly pulled my shirt over my head, refusing to look at him. As I put on my shoes he asked, "Are you ok to go home?" I thought about my answer for a moment. No, he didn't ask me to stay. He asked me if I was sure I was ok to go home. I said tersely, again without looking at him, "I'm fine." As I slipped on my shoes he asked me again. "You sure you'll be ok? You know, this late at night." Again, I thought, What am I supposed to say? "Actually, is it ok if I stay here and spend the night with you?" I'm not going to ask that! So as I slipped on my shoes and turned and opened the door without so much as looking at him again, I said, "I'm fine" and I jerked the door shut behind me.
I walked down the hall to the elevator and every nanosecond I so very much wanted him to call after me, to follow me down the hall, to grab my arm. But he didn't. I got to the elevator and got in. I heard someone walking down the hall at a moderate pace. The doors closed before I could have my fears confirmed that it wasn't him at all.
I left his building. I called my best friend. I cried. I didn't have enough money to take a cab all the way back to my place, so I took a cab back to her place and was crying on her couch 20 minutes later, at 4:30 am. I cried because I was disappointed. I cried because I was afraid that maybe I overreacted and that maybe he wanted me to stay and was trying to get me to stay and that I'll never see this really, really great guy who gives me butterflies in my stomach again because I walked out the door.
He never called to see that I got home ok, even after I told him how I DID NOT get home ok after our last date.
Now it's 5 pm. He still hasn't called. I called a few friends for advice - no one picked up. Finally I called the friend who tells me exactly what I know I need to hear, but I can't bring myself to believe.
You should have walked out, she said. He should have asked you to stay. It's shitty that he was kicking you out. He could have come after you, at least to call a cab or go downstairs and make sure you get in a cab ok. 'But what if he wasn't trying to kick me out? What if he mistakenly thought I wanted to leave? What if he was trying to ask me to stay?' No no no, she insisted. If he wanted you to stay, he would have asked you to stay. He would have run after you. 'What if he didn't know I was upset? What if he didn't realize what was going on?' No no no, she admonished. He knew. He knew exactly what was going on. He could have at least called to see if you got home ok. He didn't. DO NOT CALL HIM. If you call him, you'll see him again, and the same things will happen, and just like with Tenacious D, you'll let him get away with this and you'll be upset anyway. If he calls you, fine. But if he doesn't, then at least you know now rather than later that he isn't for you.
Every girl I've spoken with agrees that it was the right thing for me to walk out. I mean really, what other choice did I have? I wonder what the men out there think. What happened?
The entire time we were together on both dates, I couldn't help but feel the nagging from that little (ok, really loud) voice of insecurity in my mind. I couldn't help but think, "Why me? Why is he with me? Why is he so into me? Why would an attractive, smart, funny single guy be so focused and psyched about ME?" To be able to continue forward despite that anxiety and that insecurity takes effort - and I did it anyway. I liked him. I liked talking to him. I liked kissing him. And it's so harsh to get the realization that in the end, oh yeah, he really isn't into me. That whole time that you finally managed to get past your insecurity was actually a mistake. I feel like I'm back to being a 100% insecure, nervous, risk-averse 20-something with no ability to formulate or even simulate healthy relationships with members of the opposite sex.
I can't help but hate myself for doing what will ultimately end this otherwise really good dating experience - even if it actually was because something in the dating experience went amiss.
I wish he would call.