This was a big weekend, kids. 3 different match.com dates within 4 days. LOOK OUT! I'm on a rejection express train on track to Holiday Season approaching a suicide turn at a dangerous speed.
If I hear how awesome my personality is ONE more time...
I was thinking; I don't really know why people think telling someone that they're really REALLY, I mean so the totally awesomest person in the world, is going to somehow lessen the impact of their rejecting you. People only say that to make themSELVES feel better about the whole thing.
"It's not you. You're SO great. I mean, I don't want to lose you as a friend! You're such an incredible person. I would just be devastated if we couldn't be friends."
Well I guess you're gonna have to learn to live with devastation then, dick.
Why can't we just tell each other the truth? Would it be so horrible to be told by someone, "I'm just not attracted to you. Had a good time talking to you, though. Take care." If saying the actual words is too uncomfortable then maybe we could come up with a code system. You know, like how you can have a safe word when you're into BDSM.
Oh put your eyebrows back down, like everyone doesn't know where "safe word" comes from?
We could, instead of saying "I'm not attracted to you." You could just say, "Bologna sandwich." And if you WERE attracted you could say "I've got the pocket hots!"
Or we could just own up to our own feelings and tell other human beings what we're really thinking. Survey says!: errrruuuh! XXX
Rejection number one on Thursday night was very honest--albeit an honest txt the next morning, but still. Told me he didn't feel a romantic connection. Fair enough. Thanks for playing. And as an aside--I think a txt is totally fine in this circumstance. In fact, it's even preferred.
Rejection number two is still a bit up in the air. I may have handled myself poorly, though. Gave into the lust of the moment. Not that I gave away the farm...but I definitely gave him a detailed and extensive tour. There was even a complimentary overnight stay, though no breakfast. And upon leaving, my spot in bed was happily replaced by a 50 pound mutt named Henry. Not a terribly good sign, I fear. And I resent any man who makes the girl have to be the one to put on the brakes in the bedroom shenanigans. A friend of mine in Milwaukee--straight male friend mind you--never does more than kiss for the first handful of dates. Keep it simple. Keep it straightforward.
Rejection number three was a sleeper hit. We'd emailed 7 or 8 times over the past month--which is too much, if you ask me--and then we had a spur of the moment decision to "hang out". He dropped by for some homemade cookies, a little Bailey's on the rocks, and Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom. It was a classic set up: movie ended, yawn, "look at that, 9:25 already, better be headed home", one armed hug, no eye contact, "talk to ya later". And fade to black.
I'm not trying to complain, actually. I like first dates and getting to know people. But it sure does take a FUCK of a lot of eggs to make une omlette d'amore.
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