I cut another one loose a week ago. We’d been casually seeing each other for awhile and it just wasn’t going to work out: He described himself as a day trader who tried to live modestly (miserly). He wanted to travel the world, having never been much of anywhere by the age of 47. He didn’t text and communicated only by phone, often leaving messages that went something like this:
Hi, it’s Steve. Sorry I missed you. I just called to say hello. Hope you’re having a good weekend.
I know that sounds perfectly normal, except that when you’re a single parent, you kinda want they guy to call and say something more like:
Hi Beautiful, it’s Steve. Wanted to see if you’re free Saturday night — I’ve got some great ideas for dinner. Ring me back!
At any rate, he sounded a bit too much like Eeyore. I found myself screening his calls, waiting two or three days to return his calls and generally disinterested in seeing him.
So last week, I set up one more dinner. I think I meant to give myself one more chance to feel some magic. But I didn’t. He walked me to my car, then I drove him to his across the lot. And I let him know that I didn’t feel our relationship developing into anything serious. I thought it would be most respectful to do it in person. I thought it would be quick and easy: he’d get out of my car and drive away.
But he wanted to discuss: He asked me if there was anything specific he’d done or hadn’t done.
I repeated that I just wasn’t feeling it, that I was very busy with work and some remodeling projects and parenting…
He told me that, while it’s difficult to date as a single parent, people who want to work at it can be successful.
See, that’s just it: I’m not feeling that special something that makes me want to work at it.
All the way home, I thought about how good-looking and kind he was, how nice it felt when he touched me and kissed me, and how auspicious the size of his extremities appeared to be. We always seemed to laugh when we were together. I wondered if I’d made a mistake, particularly since I hadn’t yet verified a correlation between the size of his hands and…well, you know.
Then, while telling a co-worker about it the next day, she laughed and said, “You mean you were just too nice to be honest! You had an entire list of things you didn’t like about this guy and why it wouldn’t work.”
All those things came flooding back to me. I realized she was right. And that I’d made the right decision.