I have to admit...I began this thing in January thinking that, A, I'd date a bunch of guys, write about them, meet "the one" and then never write in here again. Or that, B, I'd date a couple of guys and then sink into another five-year dry spell. Either A or B, I suspected I'd recount all the emotionally unavailable men of my past (because that's why I started this) and be done, with this blog not continuing beyond about June and with nothing dramatic happening.
I was wrong. Here we are, it's the end of December, and although I'm single again, I've dated more than I thought I would, and I could never have anticipated the amount of drama that did, in fact, transpire. Unfortunately, my ability to pick emotionally available men is still drastically impaired. Is it me? Is it this city? I do affectionately refer to New York City as The Island of Misfit Toys for a reason. Now more than ever, I'm baffled at how it is that people get married in their twenties--or ever...
But nevermind that. Let's look at what happened. I began the year placing my hope in a man-boy who appeared unavailable from the word hello. Still, I persevered--despite the disappearing act, the sudden cancellations and a horrifying glimpse into his vacant, unavailable heart. In the process, I had an epiphany: his inability to have what I would consider a real relationship had absolutely nothing to do with me. It was liberating. And, in the end, when I headed to Australia to likely never hear from him again, I truly didn't care.
Australia, too, provided a revelation of sorts. There, I met a Girl Gang, each member of which recounted a tale of heartbreak almost worse than the last--fleeing husbands, cheating boyfriends, guys that couldn't even handle a fling. Granted, it takes two and somehow these women played a role, but the lack of backbone displayed by the men in each of the stories was astounding.
Despite the proliferating tales of woe, I returned to NYC with a shiny new job and a mission to have a shiny new boyfriend before summer. On June 5, I met #111. My boyfriend. It was full of promise--mostly with him making promises and me believing them--but crashed and burned in a manner with which I'm all too familiar--suddenly and with no good reason.
However, personal progress was made.
As one friend said, "He was partially available"--a marked improvement from the man-boy that occupied January through March.
And I wasn't the one who irrationally bailed. On several occasions when I wanted to run, when I was afraid it wouldn't last, when I didn't feel attracted to him and thought I should end it, I stayed. (OK, I wasn't perfect. I admit to a mild obsession with the ex he talked about constantly. I even went so far as to look her up online--uh huh, he gave me that much information about her that I was easily able to find her. But I figure his incessant talk about all his exes was a way of telling me--or, really, of him trying to convince himself--that he was capable of a relationship, because deep down he probably knew he wasn't.)
Yes, it seems, despite many red flags, when I'm in, I'm in. Unfortunately, I chose to be in with someone who wasn't capable of being in with me--as all his talk about his ex proved ("She was afraid of commitment, she was incapable of intimacy" blah blah blah), he was only capable of being in with someone who wasn't capable of being in, which makes me think we're even more alike than either of us ever knew.
The stories are still unfolding--with #111, with #118--and with others who are moving into friend realm, like #109. I ran into him about a month ago at a gathering of like-minded downtowners. We had a rare confessional moment. Both of us were feeling beaten up by life and he basically admitted he needed to stop fucking around amongst our group of friends. He'd been to a gallery show the night before and was gripped with terror as he spotted a woman who he thought was an ex-situation. It turned out not to be her but he was in knots over getting the first post-break-up run-in over with. In nicer terms, I suggested he stop fucking around like that.
Then I told him about my ex-situation and how #111 ran away. #109 muttered, "If it's not someone else running away, it's me running away," then said, "Didn't I meet him?" Indeed, I'd forgotten that I'd run into him on my third date with #111. "He seemed like a tool," #109 said. I thought that was sweet of him to say. I also thought it was interesting that he confessed to being a runner. It just shows I give them too much credit in thinking they know not what they do. Apparently, they do know what they do.
And there will be more of them--available, unavailable, runners, new crushes, trow-droppers, snowbank guys, cheapskates, liars ... If anything, 2010 proved that. And if you ever doubt that, start a blog of your own. Anytime I thought no one else could possibly come along, someone else came along. I'd like to think each new one is just a little bit more emotionally available than the last. And hopefully with each new one, I am, too.
Like I told #111 in one of our last conversations: I don't want to be a walking dead person in a relationship that exists merely for its outsides. I want to be in something where it is safe to reveal my true self, where I trust that I won't be rejected for it and where I know that no matter what, the other person is in it with me.
(And if it could happen before I'm 40, that'd be great.)
Until next year...
Friday, December 31, 2010
Saturday, December 25, 2010
Mr. Unavailable #118: The Five-Year Time Warp
Vital Stats: 42, 5'10"ish. Possibly some kind of carpenter-type person for a living. Aesthetic: Skinny, tattoos, very downtown, vestiges of a punk past. Demeanor: Legitimately nice guy, sweet, genuine.
First Impression: I met him five years ago through mutual friends. He invited me and a friend to a Christmas show somewhere in the Village. He and his band mates were doing covers of Xmas classics. It was a fun show and sometime either before or after, he came up to us to say hi. He had that little twinkle in his eye that revealed more than just Christmas cheer, and a few days later I got a message from a mutual friend asking if I was interested in him at all. I said no.
And then he disappeared.
For five years.
Signs of Hope: He resurfaced about a week ago. He friended me on Facebook and it took me a few minutes to figure out who he was. He said he'd gone upstate to flee the rat race five years ago but was back to give the city another try. He was doing his Xmas show again and gave me the info to go. I had plans to see Brenda Blethyn in Haunted uptown, so I told him I wouldn't be able to make it. He said there were a few other events happening that night and sent me a bunch of information on everything. I was trying to recover from a horrible week at the job-I-didn't-want and prepare for another horrible week, so I didn't immediately respond. Then, after experiencing relief at surviving a horrible Monday, I was able to focus and replied, thanking him for all the event information.
He wrote back, ending it with this: "...I'd like to take you for tea sometime- hope that doesn't seem to out of the blue. I always wanted to- never really had the opportunity... or nerve. I hope you're good."
Awww. Why the hell not? I was incredibly flattered. He hadn't forgotten me in five years and had the guts to not only ask me out but to admit he wanted to do it years ago but lacked the courage.
We emailed back and forth a few times and made tentative plans to see Black Swan any day now. I'm a little concerned about the movie's first-date suitability, but we'll see what happens...
Red Flags: Why is he still single? Then again, why am I still single?
Diagnosis: For him: I have no idea, but he seems genuinely sweet, so we'll see.
For me: Something has shifted. Five years ago, I wouldn't have entertained the slightest notion of going out with him--and not for any reason other than a, "I'm just not all that into him."
I find it incredibly flattering that someone is actually afraid to ask me out. I'm shocked to say it, but I'm actually excited about this date, and I have no idea where this is coming from. It's like five years have folded in upon themselves, so that I could take Christmas Eve from five years ago and tape it right next to Christmas today. And instead of saying no, I say yes.
First Impression: I met him five years ago through mutual friends. He invited me and a friend to a Christmas show somewhere in the Village. He and his band mates were doing covers of Xmas classics. It was a fun show and sometime either before or after, he came up to us to say hi. He had that little twinkle in his eye that revealed more than just Christmas cheer, and a few days later I got a message from a mutual friend asking if I was interested in him at all. I said no.
And then he disappeared.
For five years.
Signs of Hope: He resurfaced about a week ago. He friended me on Facebook and it took me a few minutes to figure out who he was. He said he'd gone upstate to flee the rat race five years ago but was back to give the city another try. He was doing his Xmas show again and gave me the info to go. I had plans to see Brenda Blethyn in Haunted uptown, so I told him I wouldn't be able to make it. He said there were a few other events happening that night and sent me a bunch of information on everything. I was trying to recover from a horrible week at the job-I-didn't-want and prepare for another horrible week, so I didn't immediately respond. Then, after experiencing relief at surviving a horrible Monday, I was able to focus and replied, thanking him for all the event information.
He wrote back, ending it with this: "...I'd like to take you for tea sometime- hope that doesn't seem to out of the blue. I always wanted to- never really had the opportunity... or nerve. I hope you're good."
Awww. Why the hell not? I was incredibly flattered. He hadn't forgotten me in five years and had the guts to not only ask me out but to admit he wanted to do it years ago but lacked the courage.
We emailed back and forth a few times and made tentative plans to see Black Swan any day now. I'm a little concerned about the movie's first-date suitability, but we'll see what happens...
Red Flags: Why is he still single? Then again, why am I still single?
Diagnosis: For him: I have no idea, but he seems genuinely sweet, so we'll see.
For me: Something has shifted. Five years ago, I wouldn't have entertained the slightest notion of going out with him--and not for any reason other than a, "I'm just not all that into him."
I find it incredibly flattering that someone is actually afraid to ask me out. I'm shocked to say it, but I'm actually excited about this date, and I have no idea where this is coming from. It's like five years have folded in upon themselves, so that I could take Christmas Eve from five years ago and tape it right next to Christmas today. And instead of saying no, I say yes.
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Mr. Unavailable #111: Knocking Him Off His Pedestal
To start from the beginning of the Mr. 111 story, see (in this order) Could it Be?, It's Not Him, It's Me, The Recovery, We're Just Not That Into Each Other, The Continuation, The Curse is Broken, Unfortunately, The Make-Up Date, The Phone Call, The Negotiation, Dates 9 Through 12, Dates 13 Through 15, The Public Sex Talk, Bridging the Chasm, The Shut Down, All Kinds of Good, Meeting the Friends, Part 2, Hamptons Getaway, Day 1, Day 2, Day 3, Day 4, Happy Birthday to Me, The Drunken Text, Jeckyl and Hyde, The Layoff, One-Man Show, A Boy in Man's Clothing, The Doctors Visit, Giving Him the News, The Appointment, The Sad Ultrasound, In Between Appointments, The Last Breakfast and Arizona Convalescence for the background on this one.
I feel like this is some sort of weird confession. After recounting everything that happened with #111 and trying to get over him, I kind of relapsed. I fully believe it was best for my sanity's sake--and it was fully endorsed by my shrink, so I feel justified.
Here's what happened:
I feel like this is some sort of weird confession. After recounting everything that happened with #111 and trying to get over him, I kind of relapsed. I fully believe it was best for my sanity's sake--and it was fully endorsed by my shrink, so I feel justified.
Here's what happened:
I'm not sure exactly when in the session it came up, but at some point she suggested I actually give #111 a call to see how he was doing. It had been three weeks, she said, it seemed like a good time.
"Seriously?" I said. It seemed crazy. "Wouldn't that be chasing him?"
"Are you showing up on his doorstep?" she said. "No? Then you're not chasing him."
She went on to say that I was changing my attachment patterns. Instead of withdrawing when other people withdraw--which is an old survival mechanism but, ultimately, makes me miserable and creates a pedestal for the person--I was keeping engaged. I had to admit, the idea of getting in touch with him made me very happy. She said I just had to try not to have any expectations around it and if I was doing it as a means of being friends (as #111 and I had agreed to be) then I should just try to keep it at that in my mind--from moment to moment--if I could.
I decided to give him a call on Saturday. When Saturday morning arrived, I was in a terrific mood. Previously barely functioning, I was hyper-functional, getting things done that I hadn't been able to in weeks--making trips to the Salvation Army, doing long-ignored errands, cleaning... Around 4 p.m., I sat down and went to call him and realized that theoretically calling him made me happy; actually calling him terrified me. I was pretty sure he would let it go to voicemail, but I wasn't sure how I would feel after I'd left a message. Heidi was having her safari party that night, so I knew I'd have something to do to keep my mind off of things if I was in a bad place but I feared the bad place. I went to dial and dialed Heidi instead. She had me practice what I was going to say to him.
When we hung up, I called him. As I suspected, he let it go to voicemail. My message went something like this. "Hi [#38]. It's Tara. I was just calling to see how you were doing...how your birthday was...if you ever got that Pop Tart T-shirt you wanted...I would love to hear from you when you have a chance...hope you're well...bye."
When I hung up, half of me was like, "Why the fuck did I just do that? Do I really even care?" And the other half of me just thought what I'd done was incredibly brave. I hadn't anticipated my own reaction. I was actually proud of myself. I was also pretty sure that if it took that much courage for me to call him, then, since it had become very clear to me early on in our dating that he was afraid of the phone (see The Phone Call), there was no way he was going to have the balls to call me back and he'd probably just email me back. It sort of felt like a dare, as in, "Look what I just did, buddy. I dare you to call me back." Instead of sending me into some kind of despairing bad place, calling him felt awesome.
As predicted, he emailed me. Monday morning. "Well, congratulations on knowing him really well," Heidi said.
His email was friendly, teasing, kind of like how it had been in the early days when we first emailed. It took me two days to email him back--mostly because I was trying to figure out whether or not I wanted to ask him to get together. I decided against it, fearing a no. Instead, I mentioned my new job and the only good things about it (the frozen yogurt machine and the fact that I had my own office). The next email from him was even jokier, and with a mean edge, which, I remembered, is him. He was surprised that I'd gotten a job so fast and said a few other things that I interpreted as condescending. I emailed my shrink about it and she said it sounded more jealous/competitive than anything. As usual, she was probably right.
We went back and forth one more time and I pulled the trigger, saying I'd like to catch up in person sometime and maybe we could go for lunch or dinner in a few weeks. Again, as soon as I'd done it, knowing what I know about him, I wondered why I was bothering. And then, a few hours after that, contradiction struck and I was fearful he'd say no.
Whatever my motives, which are even mysterious to me, my timing on sending the email was strategic. I suspected he had therapy on Fridays and, choosing to believe that his therapist was on my side (naturally, she was on his side, but in being on his side, she was actually on my side), I sent the email on Thursday and prayed I wouldn't hear from him until Friday afternoon. At about 3 p.m. Friday, I got an email from him. He said maybe we could go to lunch in a few weeks. I was shocked--I wasn't surprised that he'd opted for lunch over dinner, but I was surprised that he would want to meet at all. I also thought he sounded kind of depressed and wondered if he'd composed the email while he was actually in therapy (maybe I'm not the only one who does that).
That was about three weeks ago. I've decided to wait until after the new year to get in touch with him about it again, which I suspect I will have to do. New Year's is way too loaded a time to be getting in touch with an ex. He's a man of his word with everything except relationship commitment, so I suspect he'll keep his promise to meet up, although I have no idea why he wants to do it, unless he does in fact want to be friends...
Diagnosis: ...I have to admit I'm still wondering why I want to meet up with him. Maybe because I'm unable to let go. Maybe because it is actually good for me to change my attachment behavior. Maybe because I still have hope that he will snap out of his emotional immaturity and I won't have to move on to the next unavailable man and repeat history. Probably all of the above.
In the meantime, being in touch with him has somehow freed me up to entertain other dating options. It does seem counter-intuitive: When it felt like he was unreachable, like I'd lost him, like I wasn't allowed to be in touch with him, I wasn't able to move on. But being in touch with him and seeing he's still the same guy has helped knock him off of his pedestal; I am actually able to entertain the possibility of other guys. Yes, completely counter-intuitive.
Monday, December 13, 2010
Mr. Unavailable #76: Election Night 2000
This is a Mr. Unavailable flashback, circa November 2000.
Vital Stats: 30-something, 5'5"ish. Made a living working for his famous filmmaker brother. Aesthetic: He was small, so, lots of baggy layers. Demeanor: Nice guy, kind of unobtrusive but smart and a regular at my local bar.
First Impression: He had the whole famous-filmmaker-brother thing going for him, so everyone knew who he was and he was widely accepted and generally liked. He'd flirt with me when I'd see him but I never took him seriously until...
Turning Point: ...election night 2000. It was a bad night. Things weren't looking good for Gore and it looked like the ballot-counting was going to last long into the wee hours. Not to mention I was post-dot-com unemployed and didn't have to be anywhere the next day, so me and my friends hunkered down. I was on perhaps my fourth drunken Presbyterian--and filling the role beautifully--when #76 slid into the booth across from me. A few flirtatious words and several drinks later, taking him home with me seemed like a good idea.
He didn't stay long but he did leave his hat behind. The next time I ran into him at the bar, we arranged a surreptitious hand-off outside and re-entered the bar separately. He then obliterated all attempts at the aforementioned surreptitiousness by buying me a drink from his end of the bar and having the bartender (who was, to add to the horror, #78) say, "[#76] thanks you for finding his hat."
Diagnosis: I have no idea what his deal was--if I had to guess, free sex--but, for me, drunkenness, unemployment, pseudo-celebrity and a Republican leading in the polls was a lethal combination against which, at least in 2000, I never stood a fighting chance.
Vital Stats: 30-something, 5'5"ish. Made a living working for his famous filmmaker brother. Aesthetic: He was small, so, lots of baggy layers. Demeanor: Nice guy, kind of unobtrusive but smart and a regular at my local bar.
First Impression: He had the whole famous-filmmaker-brother thing going for him, so everyone knew who he was and he was widely accepted and generally liked. He'd flirt with me when I'd see him but I never took him seriously until...
Turning Point: ...election night 2000. It was a bad night. Things weren't looking good for Gore and it looked like the ballot-counting was going to last long into the wee hours. Not to mention I was post-dot-com unemployed and didn't have to be anywhere the next day, so me and my friends hunkered down. I was on perhaps my fourth drunken Presbyterian--and filling the role beautifully--when #76 slid into the booth across from me. A few flirtatious words and several drinks later, taking him home with me seemed like a good idea.
He didn't stay long but he did leave his hat behind. The next time I ran into him at the bar, we arranged a surreptitious hand-off outside and re-entered the bar separately. He then obliterated all attempts at the aforementioned surreptitiousness by buying me a drink from his end of the bar and having the bartender (who was, to add to the horror, #78) say, "[#76] thanks you for finding his hat."
Diagnosis: I have no idea what his deal was--if I had to guess, free sex--but, for me, drunkenness, unemployment, pseudo-celebrity and a Republican leading in the polls was a lethal combination against which, at least in 2000, I never stood a fighting chance.
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Mr. Unavailable #117: More of the (Exact) Same
Vital Stats: 36, 5'10"ish, trim build. Works as a TV sound guy for a living. Aesthetic: Former Long Island preppy with lingering preppy aesthetic in the form of Polo shirts and white tennis sneakers. Demeanor: Happy-go-lucky with a potentially purely flirtatious agenda.
First Impression: I first met #117 on Halloween, where he was DJing the first party #114 and I went to--and was friends with #114. He was dressed as a surgeon and, from what I could tell from behind the surgical mask, he seemed cute and charming, teasing me by asking me what I was and, when I said I was a princess, he said, "I thought you were just overdressed." Now looking back, I probably gave him more credit then for being funnier than he really was.
Signs of Hope: A few weeks after Halloween, I ran into #114 at a gathering of like-minded downtowners and, walking back uptown afterwards, I confessed to him that I was vaguely back in touch with #111 (more on that later). Suddenly, he said, "What about [#117]?"
"Him? I'd date him," I said, thinking that #114 must have already gotten word from #117 that he was interested.
"He's going to be at my birthday thing on Thursday, so do you want me to set something up or do you want to work your magic?" he said. I figured I might as well see how it went so I said I'd work my magic, whatever that ended up being.
A few days later at the birthday, #117 saw me walk into the bar from across the room and I could see him light up. He came over and gave me a kiss and proceeded to ask me first-date-like questions for the rest of the evening ("Where are you from?" etc.). We went for sushi after the bar and he was sure to have me sit next to him. He paid extra attention to me the rest of the night, being touchy, having me try his food, etc.
Red Flags: I had a vague feeling that I was signing up for more of the same--the charming guy that pays attention to you and then suddenly doesn't. And, coincidentally, #111 and #117 had the same name and were both Jewish boys from the greater NYC area. So, if this was to be more of the same, it was looking just a little too exact.
At any rate, the next day, I ran into #114 at another gathering of like-minded downtowners and asked him what #117's story was.
"Why don't you ask him out?" he said.
I was perturbed.
"I want him to ask me out," I said. I had assumed #117 had said something about me and that's why #114 had said something to me in the first place--and told him that.
"No," said #114. "I said something to you, but if you like him, ask him out."
I told him I wasn't going to do that.
It crossed my mind that #114 might have lingering interest in me from the old days and that, even though we were firmly in friend territory, he wasn't going to actively set me up with someone else. Maybe his offering up of #117 was merely a momentary diversionary tactic to keep me from re-entangling with #111--kind of like saying, "Hey, look over there."
The next night, #114 invited me to a dance party at DopeJams and said #117 was going. I figured I'd test the waters again. #114 said to meet him out in Williamsburg at midnight, where we'd hit a birthday party before going dancing. I met #114 on Bedford near the subway station. He was in a terrible mood. I'm not sure what was wrong with him, but he barely acknowledged me when I walked up to him on the corner. Then we collected #117 on the next corner and he, too, was in a terrible mood, saying he had a headache. The moment he said it, I had a flashback to #111 and all of his migraines. The last thing I needed was another Jewish guy named [___] who got headaches all the time. Indeed, this was looking a little too exact.
Turning Point: We went to the party and, hanging up our coats, everything I tried to say to #117 fell flat. I wondered if #114 had said something to him and he wasn't actually interested at all. So I gave up and went over to the living room where people were dancing. It was there that I spied #98 across the room. It had been a year since my brief crush was, well, crushed after I sent him an email and he never responded, so I was pretty much over it. I went up to him and he was clearly happy to see me. We talked/danced in the living room/dance floor and, after a while, #114 came over with #117 in tow and said they were headed to Dope Jams. "Are you gonna come?" he said. I looked at them--grumpy and grumpier--and said, "No, I think I'm just going to stay here for a while and then go home." #114 looked appropriately let down, glanced at #98, shrugged and said, "OK."
As they went to get their coats, #98 started to head to the coat room, too, so I stopped him and said I'd catch the subway with him. "Will you walk me home?" he teased, knowing we lived about 50 feet from each other. "Yes, I'd love to walk you home," I said. In the coat room, I introduced everyone. They greeted each other tentatively and then #114 and #117 walked out the door. I told #98 that I was supposed to go with them, but they were too grumpy. "Yes, you don't want to be with grumpy boys," he said in his cute Russian accent. "You walk me home instead."
As you know, I make little effort to hide my petty side, so I have to admit, it was gratifying to watch the scene from the eyes of #114 and #117 (or to watch it from how I HOPED they were seeing it). I hoped what they were thinking as they watched the scene was this: "Cute, fun girl was going to come dancing with us, but, because we were grumpy and no fun, she hung out with some other guy at the party we brought her to and then went home with him instead."
#114 texted me at about 2 a.m. to say the music was great at DopeJams. I texted him back telling him to stop texting me and go dance then.
Diagnosis: As for #117, a red alert about his unavailability went up very early on. At Halloween, when I felt a slight stir of attraction, I kind of knew. (Because I only seem to stir like that when they're not really available for a relationship.) #117 was every bit what I'm attracted to: the flirty guy who pays attention to me one day and then, inexplicably, goes cold the next. Sure, he might have just had a headache and been having an off night, but I'm done giving these guys the benefit of the doubt.
For me: I was glad #98 was at the party to give me an out. We walked homeward arm in arm, talking about happiness and unconditional love, two things I was having trouble grasping at the moment. But it was like old times, before I'd developed my brief crush, and we were friends again.
First Impression: I first met #117 on Halloween, where he was DJing the first party #114 and I went to--and was friends with #114. He was dressed as a surgeon and, from what I could tell from behind the surgical mask, he seemed cute and charming, teasing me by asking me what I was and, when I said I was a princess, he said, "I thought you were just overdressed." Now looking back, I probably gave him more credit then for being funnier than he really was.
Signs of Hope: A few weeks after Halloween, I ran into #114 at a gathering of like-minded downtowners and, walking back uptown afterwards, I confessed to him that I was vaguely back in touch with #111 (more on that later). Suddenly, he said, "What about [#117]?"
"Him? I'd date him," I said, thinking that #114 must have already gotten word from #117 that he was interested.
"He's going to be at my birthday thing on Thursday, so do you want me to set something up or do you want to work your magic?" he said. I figured I might as well see how it went so I said I'd work my magic, whatever that ended up being.
A few days later at the birthday, #117 saw me walk into the bar from across the room and I could see him light up. He came over and gave me a kiss and proceeded to ask me first-date-like questions for the rest of the evening ("Where are you from?" etc.). We went for sushi after the bar and he was sure to have me sit next to him. He paid extra attention to me the rest of the night, being touchy, having me try his food, etc.
Red Flags: I had a vague feeling that I was signing up for more of the same--the charming guy that pays attention to you and then suddenly doesn't. And, coincidentally, #111 and #117 had the same name and were both Jewish boys from the greater NYC area. So, if this was to be more of the same, it was looking just a little too exact.
At any rate, the next day, I ran into #114 at another gathering of like-minded downtowners and asked him what #117's story was.
"Why don't you ask him out?" he said.
I was perturbed.
"I want him to ask me out," I said. I had assumed #117 had said something about me and that's why #114 had said something to me in the first place--and told him that.
"No," said #114. "I said something to you, but if you like him, ask him out."
I told him I wasn't going to do that.
It crossed my mind that #114 might have lingering interest in me from the old days and that, even though we were firmly in friend territory, he wasn't going to actively set me up with someone else. Maybe his offering up of #117 was merely a momentary diversionary tactic to keep me from re-entangling with #111--kind of like saying, "Hey, look over there."
The next night, #114 invited me to a dance party at DopeJams and said #117 was going. I figured I'd test the waters again. #114 said to meet him out in Williamsburg at midnight, where we'd hit a birthday party before going dancing. I met #114 on Bedford near the subway station. He was in a terrible mood. I'm not sure what was wrong with him, but he barely acknowledged me when I walked up to him on the corner. Then we collected #117 on the next corner and he, too, was in a terrible mood, saying he had a headache. The moment he said it, I had a flashback to #111 and all of his migraines. The last thing I needed was another Jewish guy named [___] who got headaches all the time. Indeed, this was looking a little too exact.
Turning Point: We went to the party and, hanging up our coats, everything I tried to say to #117 fell flat. I wondered if #114 had said something to him and he wasn't actually interested at all. So I gave up and went over to the living room where people were dancing. It was there that I spied #98 across the room. It had been a year since my brief crush was, well, crushed after I sent him an email and he never responded, so I was pretty much over it. I went up to him and he was clearly happy to see me. We talked/danced in the living room/dance floor and, after a while, #114 came over with #117 in tow and said they were headed to Dope Jams. "Are you gonna come?" he said. I looked at them--grumpy and grumpier--and said, "No, I think I'm just going to stay here for a while and then go home." #114 looked appropriately let down, glanced at #98, shrugged and said, "OK."
As they went to get their coats, #98 started to head to the coat room, too, so I stopped him and said I'd catch the subway with him. "Will you walk me home?" he teased, knowing we lived about 50 feet from each other. "Yes, I'd love to walk you home," I said. In the coat room, I introduced everyone. They greeted each other tentatively and then #114 and #117 walked out the door. I told #98 that I was supposed to go with them, but they were too grumpy. "Yes, you don't want to be with grumpy boys," he said in his cute Russian accent. "You walk me home instead."
As you know, I make little effort to hide my petty side, so I have to admit, it was gratifying to watch the scene from the eyes of #114 and #117 (or to watch it from how I HOPED they were seeing it). I hoped what they were thinking as they watched the scene was this: "Cute, fun girl was going to come dancing with us, but, because we were grumpy and no fun, she hung out with some other guy at the party we brought her to and then went home with him instead."
#114 texted me at about 2 a.m. to say the music was great at DopeJams. I texted him back telling him to stop texting me and go dance then.
Diagnosis: As for #117, a red alert about his unavailability went up very early on. At Halloween, when I felt a slight stir of attraction, I kind of knew. (Because I only seem to stir like that when they're not really available for a relationship.) #117 was every bit what I'm attracted to: the flirty guy who pays attention to me one day and then, inexplicably, goes cold the next. Sure, he might have just had a headache and been having an off night, but I'm done giving these guys the benefit of the doubt.
For me: I was glad #98 was at the party to give me an out. We walked homeward arm in arm, talking about happiness and unconditional love, two things I was having trouble grasping at the moment. But it was like old times, before I'd developed my brief crush, and we were friends again.
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