In the fall, I was asked out via Facebook by a bold Italian dude who had seen me perform at a comedy show a few weeks prior. He sent me a message introducing himself and reminding me of the short convo we had that evening, which he apparently found highly enchanting. I did a quick scan of his profile to trigger my memory. Ah, yes, I do recall him having a firm handshake and an adorable smile. He was a good-looking, charming guy so when he offered to meet me in the next hour where I currently sat writing (in a coffee shop as per usual) to chat I thought, why not. I’m already here. I would literally have to put zero effort into scheduling or planning this date, thus, I told him I would wait for his destined arrival. He scurried over rather fast and we proceeded to order beer and discuss gender politics and strange parents and shitty comedy.
Although at first I was rather suspicious of this random stranger, I found myself falling into potential like with him. After our short first date came to an end, he drove me home and from within his slick car we made out for a long while. I was surprised to discover that I was attracted to this guy! Like SUPER attracted to him. Who knew you could get wet kissing someone who added you on Facebook only a mere three hours prior? After the smooch session I knew I wanted to see him again. He felt the same way and messaged me to inquire about it two days later. He was apparently great at communication as well! And he had a steady real estate job, which I normally would find lacklustre but at this time in my life I was looking for stability and real estate screamed, nice, regular human being who has their shit relatively together and knows what they want.
Our second date was also a spontaneous one. He texted to say that he was in my neighbourhood and wondered if I could see him. We met at a bar near my place and once more it was a fun, sensual, intellectual hang out. He was super touchy feely which I was not used to since I often engage in casual sex with comedians who want to keep it on the down low aka not make eye contact with me in public because they fear that looking into my pupils would result in a proposal of marriage and an instant pregnancy. But this dude was different. He was all about the hand holding and thigh grabbing and cheek kissing. It was a lot for a second date and I already worried that it was a warning sign that he was up to something. But I tried to rebuff my trust issues in replacement of blind positivity. That night we did the intercourse and it was pretty darn sexy.
I was sure that there was something between us. That we had a strong connection. That we were 100% going to be seeing each other again. He did say that he wanted to after all. In fact he said that he would message me soon to make plans. I kissed him goodbye, shut the car door, and blissfully awaited a text from this handsome gent. I was confused when several days passed and¦ no message came. But I just assumed he was busy. Right? I mean, he was barely posting on social media (and yes I was actively checking) so it wasn’t like he was on Faceook but not contacting me. Until, he was on Facebook, but not contacting me, days later. He was posting statuses and commenting on photos and generally being present. This was around the time that the Toronto Blue Jays were in the playoffs which was an epic event for the city. I shot him a message about an amazing game that was won and he replied saying how incredible it was but didn’t invite me out or even hint at another date. When I asked what his week looked like, I didn’t get a response.
This was when my paranoia and anxiety and worthlessness began to rise. The week continued on and he continued ignoring me. There’s something truly maddening about being ignored in romantic situations. Your thoughts and theories and worries spiral out of control. You make excuses and try to rationalize why this individual might possibility be denying your existence. Is work crazy? Did their phone break? Has it been off for days? Did they drop their laptop in the bathtub? Are they sick? Are they asleep? Are they dead? They must be dead. Fingers crossed they’re dead. These are the kind of ramblings that permeate the cluttered mind when you live in the unknown. When the person whose attention you desire so deeply doesn’t seem to think about you at all. When your feelings are irrelevant and your tears are vapour and your body is that of a ghost. And when their phone seems to always be off¦
If he had rejected me immediately after our romp I would have been hurt but at the very least I could have moved on with my life and forgotten that he had ever sent that initial Facebook message. But, he didn’t do that. He chose to do, well, nothing. There is such a profound disrespect in doing nothing when someone is demanding answers from you. Nothing says I don’t care that you’re in pain. I don’t care that you’re hurt and I don’t care that my laziness, apathy and selfishness are making it worse. I simply don’t care, about you, whatsoever. What’s your name again? Did we fuck once or something? So, I did what any rational person would do. I messaged him again, asking a similar question from the week before. But instead of a large scale availability inquiry, I requested his schedule for that evening. I did this in text form but when ten hours passed and I had no clue if he had received it or read it or planned to respond, I took it a step further. I sent the same exact sentence on Facebook, which provides a handy seen message feature.
An hour later it had still not been seen, although he had been active on F-book prior to that. Yup. I was monitoring his activity, ˜cause being ignored does that to you. It turns you into an obsessive, insecure detective who will stay up through the night in order to crack a stupid case. I didn’t want my brain to be consumed by the thought of a person who in retrospect meant very little me but the less I knew the more desperately I wanted to know. I mean, where the fuck was this dumb guy and what the fuck was he thinking and why the fuck was he not replying to me?! I was praying for him to reject me. I was hoping that he would diagnose me as a crazy chick he needed to directly break it off with and then unfriend and block straight away. But he wasn’t doing any of that. He wasn’t putting me out of my misery. He was going on with this day as he normally did, passively avoiding my massive mental breakdown across the internet. It was like he forgot that I was a thing. A person thing who was experiencing negative emotion which his non-actions were causing. I was being discarded. I could feel it. I can always feel it.
So, I started plotting my revenge. How was I going to wreak havoc on his life until all of his relationships failed and he lost his job and he self-combusted? I put a pin in it and decided to stress nap instead. When I woke up, I groggily swiped through notifications, one being from him. Yes, he had replied. He was playing golf at work and that’s why he didn’t get back to me earlier. He apologized and said he wasn’t free that evening to meet up. I was still fuming over the tortuous wait he put me through (golf games are not twelve hours long) so I deleted the message and returned to my naive slumber. Another week went by and he didn’t contact me. At this point I concluded that he was a malicious player who just wanted to get his penis drenched with whoever was around. But I still had no peace of mind or closure or concrete rejection and I wanted it. I needed him to acknowledge that I was a human being who he orgasmed with and was tossing aside. I needed him to say Sorry, I’m not interested in seeing you again. Also, I’m a piece of shit misogynist.
I wanted closure and I deserved closure. We all do. Thus, I sent a final giant, mostly caps message, demanding to know if we would be going on another date. Even though I had no desire to do so I wanted him to say it too and if I did it first he probably wouldn’t. I also included a rant about how disrespectful it is to ignore someone like he had been doing and if he didn’t want to continue sleeping with me he could have said that instead of brushing me off. In typical fashion, he didn’t get back to me for 24 hours, upon which he said that he didn’t think we had any chemistry, so no, hanging out again wasn’t a good idea, but I was a cool person and hopefully we’d bump into each other at some point or another. Maybe at a comedy show. After reading his kurt, cold, matter-of-fact rejection I felt something that many people likely feel upon being turned down by an individual who was ignoring them: relief. I felt pure, intense, relaxing relief and closure and peace of mind. It was finally over and I knew it was over. I had the proof in writing. I could now move on with my life. I wasn’t even that upset, besides my ego being bruised a bit. ˜Cause although he’s still an ass, at least he respected me enough to reject me.