First, let me say there is a long...long....long..... story behind all of this. I want to let all of you in on this, since it will help my readers understand. Almost 2 years ago I met a guy. Forgive my fairytale nostalgia, but this seems quite romantic and it blooms better than one of Bell's roses from Beauty and the Beast.
Let me take you back two years ago.
I stood in my room thinking of what to wear. I was going to pick up books from the bookstore, and I couldn't decide what to wear. I looked great, felt fabulous, and ready to embark on something new. There I stood in front of my mirror trying to figure out what else to do with myself. There’s only so many times you can brush your hair, line your eyes, and swipe lip gloss across your lips before you realize that one more swipe will put you in competition with a Vegas showgirl. I walked over to my closet, or what resembled a closet, more or less a wood lined hole in the wall that was three-feet wide and four-feet tall. There stuffed inside was my wardrobe. I flipped threw the clothes hanging on the hangers trying to find the perfect shirt to pair with my boot cut Hollister jeans. A week before school was always the hardest when trying to pick out what to wear. No one wants to waste an outfit on a 20 minute trip to the bookstore, but then again you never know who you are going to meet on your way there. I finally decided on my red express shirt. It had some crazy design on it, almost resembled a burn out Declaration of Independence on it, but I remembered reading somewhere in Cosmo, that men were attracted to the color red. What could it hurt?
I threw on my shoes, and headed out to what would seem to be an average trip to the bookstore, that is until I met him. As I descended down the staircase, he stood in front of me. I looked at his china blue eyes through my aviator sunglasses thinking how I was going to talk to to this guy. A thousand things went through my mind like, I hope my hair looks good, he's really cute, to what do I say? I hope I don't fall, are my jeans zipped. But luckily on the seven stairs down I managed to pull it together.
I was finally standing behind him. He looked at me and I looked back, and that when I said "I hate standing in lines don't you?" He immediately agreed and that's when we hit it off. He introduced himself to me, told me he was new, a grad student, and that he just relocated to the area. It was great. He dressed nice, spoke eloquently, and seemed interesting and interested in what I had to say. We finally approached the window and he picked up his books, tore off a slip of paper and handed me his number and said "Hopefully we can talk soon. Call me". He walked away and disappeared. Now I still wonder why exactly he ended our conversation, for all I knew it could have gone on for hours, but that's not important. Point is, we had great conversation, he wasn't in a bar and it was just pleasant.
I called him a day and a half later to see how he was doing. We ended up making a date for that Friday, and had dinner and it started from there.
As the story progresses, we went on a lot of dinner dates. He took me to places I had never been in the 4 years I had lived in the city, and it seemed like a sure bet. He liked me, was into me, and we just had such an amazing time together. Now, I do believe the honeymoon stage exists, for the fact that after 6months, that's when the fights start, people get moody, and you start becoming bothered by the once "cute habits". I also believe after dating someone for six months you know whether or not you want to be in a relationship with them. Well this is when it got challenging.
There's no way to have "the talk" but sooner or later you have too. I've read a multitude of ways to bring it up, or even specific words or phrases to avoid, or even to just embed a note in a steak(thanks Cosmo for the advice), but I felt that him and I were on the same wave length that we could virtually talk about anything. I mean if we can spend two hours on the phone talking many days of the week we could surely be adults about it. So one night after one of our really great dinner dates, I asked, "Do you think you would want to be in a relationship with me?" Me expecting that our ending would end with him asking me, and that fireworks would shoot up in the air and how I could tell this fabulous story was suddenly sucked away by his silence. He told me that he didn't know.
HOW COULD HE NOT KNOW? I pride myself on being different than most girls, and I have many a guy friend that wish their girlfriends could be more like me so what was wrong? Why after us having such a great time together was he so hesitant? It surely couldn't be me? I never said anything or did anything that would make him not like me, but he explained that he needed more time, and that he honestly didn't know. Let down, I accepted his "honest" answer (only later finding out he was just prolonging the inevitable), and continued to date him.
Several dates and months later he still didn't have an answer for me. Well he did have an answer or should I say an excuse. This time I was "too alpha" for him. I couldn't understand. He always told me how awesome it was that I spoke my mind, and admired me for who I was, but now my personality was being used against me? I've heard of not dating someone because poor hygiene, disrespectfulness, or rudeness, but I was being punished for my go getter attitude? It seemed weird, and when I asked him to explain , he had no explanation. He would tell me he couldn't explain it but it was something that bothered him and apparently would bother him in a relationship. So I assumed that maybe he just wanted to date a beta...but all his other ex's had been far from beta's, so what was the deal.
So the year came to the end, and we had gotten no where except gone on more dinner dates, watched movies, and still had a good time. I had tried to reform my "alphaness" and reign it in a little, in hopes of changing his mind. Well we sat down on our last night, and I asked him if the summer would tear us a part. Me thinking about the future and hoping he would tell me that he wanted to continue down our great path was shrouded by his cold hearted remark " If we get closer that's great,if we grow a part then we grow a part". That's a great way to screw with someones emotions, even greater for a girl. Now I have a definite hold on my emotions, but this didn't seem right. How could someone say this to me?
So the summer starts and like most people that means working out. Well I hit it into overdrive, because I was getting a little tired of him talking about how he dated a model. (In which case, for the sake of not sounding catty I have seen his "model" and she is no Heidi Klum. I'll give her that she was thin, but she had a butt that you could sit a cup on, or a breakfast try for that matter), I don't know many models that have big butts, big enough that would earn them a cameo on the sir-mix-alot baby got back video. But to each their own. I should remark too, that I have an extraordinarily flat butt, and thanks to the genetics of my mother, I can wear any type of jeans. :)
Long story short, most guys are obsessed with girl's behinds, or legs, or their chest. Well my guy had a love for abs. The one thing I don't have. So I embarked on a exercise regime that landed me 3 months later, 35 pounds lost, and a hot bod. When I came back I turned heads, people suddenly wanted to "talk" to me. I knew I looked good, and I figured if I looked this good, he wouldn't be able to resist me. Well guess again. I showed up in a hot dress and heels to his apartment for our date, and not one compliment. Well he did give me a compliment that he thought " I would be hotter" and that apparently "I had hyped myself up". Let's get one thing straight. I LOOKED DAMN GOOD! But he didn't think so. So that night after the owner of the restaurant kept walking by my table staring at me, meant next to nothing to the one guy I wanted to be with left me wondering what was up.
More months had passed, I got hotter, he took me out, and still no sign of commitment. He wasn't seeing anyone else and I just didn't understand. That is until the night he came out with it. After much tension and mini tiffs, he finally told me that he didn't want to date me and said that I should see other people. I was hurt and even more devastated. I had grown to love someone, care for them, and all he could tell me was that " he thought I should find someone else?" Like he was doing me a favor? I didn't want to find anyone else. I didn't understand why we wouldn't work. I lost close to 40 pounds, and things were going great. Why wouldn't anyone in their right mind not want to be with me. All I know it that I cried enough tears to probably add to the already rising sea level in the ocean, and we continued to hang out still. I thought that maybe he would change his mind, but I remembered reading in "He's just not that into you", that the only time you can change a man is when he's in diapers. Well that time had long passed him 26 years ago, and now I was stuck cleaning up the aftermath.
Fight, Fight, cry, cry. Repeat is what I lived through for four more months, but somehow I just couldn't move on. I never did.
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