You're reaching for the cinnamon to flavor your frozen no-whip soy caramel mochachocolatte when you meet eyes with the most beautifullest, good-lookingest person you've seen in a long time. They smile, you smile back and you know that an angel just got their wings for crossing your paths. I don't need to bore you with details of how you exchanged numbers, etc. as we all know this is a make believe kind of story - no one actually meets in real life. However, because I like to take a little creative license, let's just pretend this could happen for real. (It will be our little secret that you met through a blog for Chili Cheese Frito Lay chip lovers.)
So you and your new boo thang are having the best time getting to know each other. There's lots of laughter, flirty texts, fun dates, sweet kisses - you. are. having. a. ball. You have plenty in common; how many people do you know who can quote the very special Hennifer Lopez episode of South Park? Exactly, just you and that one friend who's kind of a weirdo (too). They like tacos, you like tacos! You love Wheezer, they know who (or what?) Wheezer is! Pretty soon, you're meeting each other's friends, planning weekends away, farting in front of each other...everything is sunshine and mermaid songs. And then it happens. Something so shocking, so unimaginable, that when it happens, you feel like you got sucker punched in the gut.
They disappear.
This person who's heard you fart* and with whom you spent several weekends perusing collections of antique catcher's masks and umpire whistles has disappeared. You became addicted to New Girl because they made you watch it every Tuesday (I mean, Winston is pretty hilarious)! You gave up bacon for 5 days because they were doing that cleanse (5 WHOLE DAYS)! You kept rocking your faux-hawk because they thought it was sexy! Most importantly, you let them meet your friends! And just as quickly as you started dating, you stop. The mermaid songs are but a faint memory of the glorious (and unexpectedly short) amount of time you spent together.
What's most frustrating is that it's such a stealth and gradual process, you don't even see it coming. There are subtle clues in which you might pick up on something, but they are so slight, you can easily dismiss it. You may also sound crazy if you were to bring it up. Maybe they aren't texting you as much. Maybe they didn't respond to that last email you sent with the link about Solange having Jay-Z's baby (I'm kidding, please don't kill me Illuminati). Perhaps they canceled your last date and oops, forgot to reschedule. On their own, these little shifts are nothing. People get busy and you most certainly don't want a boo bear who is up under you all the time. It's the collective of these behavioral changes that are troublesome.
Being that you're an adult, you feel it's immature to bring these seemingly benign-yet-noteworthy shifts to their attention via text. Unfortunately, it's become virtually impossible to get them in person or even on the phone. "Sugar grits, I'm so busy at work, it's been crazy! Let's connect soon though." "Honey baby sexy muffin, I'm so sorry we seen each other, but my dad's favorite second cousin Lenny is in town and I haven't seen him in 2 months. Rain check?" Before you know it, it's been 3 weeks since your last date.
You can't help but feel some kind of way. Confused? Angry? Sad? Frustrated? Disappointed? Yes, yes, yes, yes and hell yes. While you may not have dated long enough to make it to coupledom, enough time has passed for you to develop some feelings for them. For heaven sakes, you told them about your beanie baby collection (you weren't quite at the showing-it-to-them stage) and made them a macaroni necklace! At the very least, they should have the decency to acknowledge their disappearing act even if they can't/won't explain it.
That, my friends, is the difference between being an adult and being a damaged, insecure, cowardly kid (a.k.a. a DICK). It's being courageous enough to take responsibility for your feelings and behavior while recognizing how it impacts another person. There's no denying that it's not a fun or easy conversation to have - rejecting someone can be almost (I said almost) as painful as being rejected, especially if it's someone you care about and don't want to hurt. Moreover, you are also saving them from the pain of trying to figure out what happened and what they could have done differently. (Was it too soon for the macaroni necklace?) While it may not be a less hurtful and disappointing experience for them, it takes some of the sting out of being rejected and makes the healing process happen faster. Maybe they'll learn a thing or two about themselves as well.
And maybe, just maybe, they won't feel compelled to write a blog about how you presto-changoed into a DICK.
*Although similar events to those described in this blog may or may not have happened to me in the past week, I'd like to state for the record I did not fart in front of anyone. I am a shy farter.
