Let's Call Him Kevin came to visit last weekend. We had a great time. It was delightful.
I don't want to blog about it. I know, right? Wasn't that the whole point? I maybe didn't think this through. I considered that I might start dating someone, but I didn't think it'd be someone who lived so far away. Or that it'd be someone I would want to protect . Not just his identity; I feel protective of Kevin as person. If anything I wrote here were hurtful, however inadvertent, I'd feel so, so sad. I don't even know him all that well yet... but I like him. Empathy is great for potential relationships, but it doesn't make for very interesting blogging. Good writing is specific, and I'm basically telling you that he's nice. That level of prose wouldn't even get past a 100-level writer's workshop. Here are some specifics: While we were hiking, he noticed cool-looking trees. While we were eating in a local diner, he told me I had a beautiful smile. Today we exchanged a series of text messages largely comprised of cat puns ("My cat wants to eat right meow" "Get to it, don't paws!" "That would be a cat-tastrophe"). Tomorrow we have a House of Cards/Google Hangout date scheduled. No spoilers, dear readers!
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I took a sick day last week. About 1:00 in the afternoon, I got a text from an unknown number. Dear readers, some of you know and others of you might remember me mentioning that I briefly dated someone from the town two hours east of me October-November. J. I contemplated not responding, but I thought to myself, what's the worst that could happen? J moved to the Midwest! I saw this girl's picture on Facebook; I thought he'd moved on kind of fast, but whatever. There'd been an expiration date on the relationship for awhile. My friends didn't like him, and his true colors were starting to show through. (J's true colors: asshole brown and yellow-bellied). When he texted me (yes, texted me) mid-November to tell me he was moving, I said c'est la vie. I made some attempts into the first week of December to see him one last time -- you know, be a mature adult and give the relationship some closure, especially since he was moving so far away. But when he sent me a Facebook message from his phone to tell me he couldn't call because his phone was broken, I pretty much gave that up. We haven't talked since. Now two months later, I find myself receiving texts from his new girlfriend, M, who has revealed that they started dating before he and I had broken up. Okay. What's weird is that it was J who wanted to move the relationship along faster. J told me he wanted be exclusive after our second date; J wanted to talk about whether or not I'd ever move to his town, or where I wanted to live next. It all felt a little rushed, but I liked him. I liked how he made me feel, and the nice things he said to me, so I downplayed those red flags. Don't we all? Seems like that's what his new girlfriend has been doing for the last couple of months, too. So M and I go back and forth for awhile; she really wants to understand precisely when J and I broke up, and I do my best to help her construct a timeline. There was some overlap. Then she sent me this picture, presumably of J's phone: That scribble coming to see him? That was me. I'm human -- this hurt. Enough that the first time I read it, I didn't even notice that he hadn't quit his job like he told me -- he'd been fired. Enough that, even though I wish I weren't, I'm still thinking about it a little bit. Then I looked at the dates. How could J be dating someone he started seeing in the Southwest in November, when he moved to the Midwest in December? At this point, I was still feeling hurt and angry, but another feeling was creeping in, too. Solidarity. There's a narrative in our culture about women and ex-girlfriends. Women are crazy! Watch out for those psycho ex-girlfriends! That's what kept me from reaching out to M in the first place. I really did want to warn her... but that would make me the crazy ex. So I said nothing. Should she have nabbed his phone? I don't know. But he was making her feel crazy, so she took action, reached out, and found me. We were both treated badly by the same guy. She's not crazy, and neither am I. Rather than read a script of what we've been told women are or do, she made a connection. Can you help me? And I did. She helped me, too. And in the end we high-fived and walked away. I think there's something really lovely about being a woman, and about being a woman this way - my way. Our way. After all, women are people. Imperfect humans, for the most part doing the best we can. Attempting not to hurt others, trying to protect our own hearts from hurt. Just like most men I know, honestly. Human. Not crazy. Oh, and speaking of my burgeoning and imperfect humanity... I could not help myself... I had a Goodwill pile containing a couple of J's shirts. Back when I thought he'd moved, I figured I'd just donate them. But I wouldn't want his cowardice to rub off on any unsuspecting Goodwill customers. So while I happened to be in town, I put them in a Trader Joe's bag and dropped them off on his porch. Since, ya know, he didn't move to Wisconsin. Smooth.
The restaurant was called "Japanese Jane." (Actually the IRL alliterative equivalent, but you catch my drift.) He suggested it via text, and I thought it was funny.
Ted Mosbey's e-mails had been humorous and a little frantic -- he jumped around from topic to topic pretty quickly and asked a ton of questions. I was ready for a talker -- I expected his personality to be larger than life, loud and verbose. He was so different in person. It's not that he wasn't funny -- he had a great sense of humor and laughed easily, but he was much more quiet and guarded than I'd anticipated. I think he was nervous. It was a much more serious date than the others.. I didn't feel silly telling him how I felt about the sky in the great plains (a place we've both lived), or analyzing the effects of foreshadowing on potential plot developments in Game of Thrones. Besides being interested in some of the same things, we're both wanderers. He's been to 49/50 states, and has lived a bunch of different places since graduating college. It was a good date. So that's three really solid first dates. Lots of potential. Also, lots of texting. Which is great, right? That was the whole point. But I want to make sure I'm being honest and fair to all three of these guys. Thus far all three are lovely, and deserve at least that. I am so sick. The details are not important. This is important: Let's Call Him Kevin was going to come to see me. I had to call him and tell him not to come because I was throwing up last night. Super sexy.
It seems some of you would like more information about Date #4. Well, screw you guys! I'm not telling you nothing!
Just kidding. Kind of. Last night I went to a local bar to watch the Super Bowl. It's a small town, so I anticipated (as I always do) that I might run into someone I know. I did not, however, anticipate that the Introvert would sit down at the table right next to ours during the first quarter. I pretended I didn't see him. Oh my god, I'm so gross. I pretended I didn't see him! For the whole game! Why would I do that? When it was over, the Introvert won the bar's raffle for a sixty-inch plasma television. It was a big deal; the owner introduced him, said his name on the microphone and everything. And still, I didn't say anything. I walked right past him in order to leave the bar. I am the worst. Okay, but for real....why would I do that? I'm not actually the worst. I have many good and redeeming qualities. Still, I should have said hello, or at least gave him a smile and a wave. Why didn't I? Kevin. I was telling my friends about the date with Kevin. Who, by the way, remains two hundred and eighty-one miles away. I'm trying to be cool, guys. We've been on one date. Sure, it lasted as long as the previous three first dates combined. And yes, it's the only one that ended with significant physical attraction. Yeah...he did say he might making the drive to see me sometime in the near future. Whatever! I don't even know him that well yet! I'll just say this: your prayers were heard. It did go well. I like him. He liked me. I anticipate it will go just as well the next time I see him. Whenever that is. I don't know if we're going to fall in love, but he made dick jokes with me at the Botanic Gardens. And that's about as good a sign as any. C'mon. It's a little phallic, no?
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JaneHi, I'm Jane. I go on dates. Archives
December 2018
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