See Sweet Virginia, The First Date, Just Desserts, To Nobu or Not to Nobu, The Duel, The 36-Hour Freakout, Him, Himself and He, Million-Dollar Me, One Block from Heartbreak,
for the background on this one.
I’d already been seeing him regularly at our usual Monday night gathering of like-minded downtowners, so he was hard for me to shake—mentally, I mean, and I began thinking of him fondly again. I had this idea to ask him if he wanted to get together for some friendly cake. It had been long enough and seemed innocent enough.
And it was an innocent enough Sunday...I was cleaning my apartment...I had plans to meet some friends for a movie...that sort of thing. Between cleaning, I composed an instant message on Facebook and let the arrow hover over the send button for about an hour—I’d leave it and come back, leave it and come back. Finally just before I left for the movie, I hit send. It said: “Cake.” I left it intentionally open-ended. It could just mean I was thinking about cake at that particular moment and needed to share my thoughts with someone. Or it could mean that I’d just eaten a lot of cake and was feeling sick. Or it could mean that I wanted to get together with him for cake. It was up to him to decide.
By the time I came home from the movie, there was a message: “Really? Love to.” He’d picked up on my true intent.
I suggested Tuesday and heard nothing back. Then on Monday, as I was getting ready to head to the Monday usual, I got a text.
#120: Cake before?
Me: It would hafta be fast cake. Drive-thru cake. Instacake.
#120: Meet at magnolias
Me: Where is that?
#120: West vill
It was only an hour until the Monday night usual, so I knew that by the time I hiked all the way over to Magnolia's, we wouldn’t have time for cake. Besides, he should come to me.
I wrote: : Hmm. How about the little cupcake shop. Prince and mulberry I think. Just thinking time wise. Might be easier.
#120: Cool.
I got there first and waited, texting him the proper cross streets. When he got there, we hugged in a large way. In a good way. And I was nervous in that I-like-this-guy way. Standing in front of the cakes looking at them through the glass as if they were hospital newborns, we leaned against each other gazing, colluding, salivating. We chose, he bought and we sat down to catch up, stealing bites of the best, frostingiest parts of each others' cake.
It was just like old times. We'd start a thread of conversation and it would run off into something completely unrelated until one of us brought it back to the original thread. He told me he’d quit his job two days before, re-entering the charmed life he'd been leading. I told him I was about to take a job in a few days, ending the charmed life I’d been leading. We caked fast and then headed west. I had to help set things up and, because of the time crunch, asked if he could help me, but when we got there, he just threw up his hands as if he didn’t know what to do.
After the usual, a large group of us went to eat and #120 and I ended up at opposite end of the table. Before the bill even arrived, he paid and came over to say good-bye. “Thanks for going for cake,” he said, touching my shoulder. “Yeah, it was good to hang out,” I said. And then he was gone.
I hadn’t told Nora that I’d broken down (again, very human) and had asked him for cake, so I was worried she had overheard. But she hadn’t. Fortunately for me, the broker she’d had an ongoing crush on (“He’s my future husband, he just doesn’t know it,” she’d say) was there and she was wrapped up in his presence.
The next day, I met Evan at Whole Foods before Naked Angels and told him why I was so woe-is-me.
“If you still like him, maybe you should just send him an email saying, ‘Look, I still have feelings for you, let’s try and date and just see what happens,’” he said. “Personally, though, I don’t think he’s worth it. He’s not really a man. He’s kind of wimpy.”
It was easy for him to say. Evan, at that moment, was in love. He’d met a plus-sized model from Sweden and was smitten. Yes, a Swedish model. Clearly, he was against settling.
I left #120 alone but saw him the next Monday usual. He looked alone with no one to talk to, so I magnanimously went over to say hello.
"What's going on?" I said casually.
#120: Cool.
I got there first and waited, texting him the proper cross streets. When he got there, we hugged in a large way. In a good way. And I was nervous in that I-like-this-guy way. Standing in front of the cakes looking at them through the glass as if they were hospital newborns, we leaned against each other gazing, colluding, salivating. We chose, he bought and we sat down to catch up, stealing bites of the best, frostingiest parts of each others' cake.
It was just like old times. We'd start a thread of conversation and it would run off into something completely unrelated until one of us brought it back to the original thread. He told me he’d quit his job two days before, re-entering the charmed life he'd been leading. I told him I was about to take a job in a few days, ending the charmed life I’d been leading. We caked fast and then headed west. I had to help set things up and, because of the time crunch, asked if he could help me, but when we got there, he just threw up his hands as if he didn’t know what to do.
After the usual, a large group of us went to eat and #120 and I ended up at opposite end of the table. Before the bill even arrived, he paid and came over to say good-bye. “Thanks for going for cake,” he said, touching my shoulder. “Yeah, it was good to hang out,” I said. And then he was gone.
I hadn’t told Nora that I’d broken down (again, very human) and had asked him for cake, so I was worried she had overheard. But she hadn’t. Fortunately for me, the broker she’d had an ongoing crush on (“He’s my future husband, he just doesn’t know it,” she’d say) was there and she was wrapped up in his presence.
The next day, I met Evan at Whole Foods before Naked Angels and told him why I was so woe-is-me.
“If you still like him, maybe you should just send him an email saying, ‘Look, I still have feelings for you, let’s try and date and just see what happens,’” he said. “Personally, though, I don’t think he’s worth it. He’s not really a man. He’s kind of wimpy.”
It was easy for him to say. Evan, at that moment, was in love. He’d met a plus-sized model from Sweden and was smitten. Yes, a Swedish model. Clearly, he was against settling.
I left #120 alone but saw him the next Monday usual. He looked alone with no one to talk to, so I magnanimously went over to say hello.
"What's going on?" I said casually.
“Oh, the reason I went outside for a bit was because Billy called. Can you imagine that? A three-year-old just calling all on his own,” he said.
My magnanimity disappeared.
A. I hadn’t noticed he’d gone outside.
B. "Billy" was his ex-girlfriend’s son.
C. I really didn’t want to hear about his ex-girlfriend’s son.
D. It meant he was still in contact with his ex-girlfriend.
All fond feelings evaporated. A group of us went over to the restaurant to eat and I was annoyed when he sat down across from me. He was telling me some story about how someone had stolen his credit card number but had only spent $10.
“Are you sure you didn’t just buy something and forget? What did they buy anyway?” I asked.
“Something online, like porn, but you can get porn for free, so it doesn’t make any sense. They weren’t very smart.”
“So, you usually get your porn for free?”
He got quiet and shifted in his seat.
“It’s OK, I already know about the hookers,” I said.
“I told you about that?” he asked.
“Yes, I asked you if you’d ever hired prostitutes and you said you didn’t want to lie so you weren’t going to answer my question.”
“I’m going to stop digging my hole now,” he said.
Still visibly uncomfortable, a few minutes later he went outside to smoke and then a few minutes after that waved through the window and pointed uptown to indicate he was leaving.
Evan was right. He was no man.
The next day, I was hanging out with Eva, telling her about #120’s lameness and the phone rang. It was him.
“Holy shit. It’s him. He hasn’t called me in weeks…months,” I said.
I didn’t pick up. I listened to the message after and all he'd said was, “I was trying to find that glasses frames store that we went to, but I can’t find it. It was on 9th or 10th. I’m around there now. Let me know if you remember where it is…”
My magnanimity disappeared.
A. I hadn’t noticed he’d gone outside.
B. "Billy" was his ex-girlfriend’s son.
C. I really didn’t want to hear about his ex-girlfriend’s son.
D. It meant he was still in contact with his ex-girlfriend.
All fond feelings evaporated. A group of us went over to the restaurant to eat and I was annoyed when he sat down across from me. He was telling me some story about how someone had stolen his credit card number but had only spent $10.
“Are you sure you didn’t just buy something and forget? What did they buy anyway?” I asked.
“Something online, like porn, but you can get porn for free, so it doesn’t make any sense. They weren’t very smart.”
“So, you usually get your porn for free?”
He got quiet and shifted in his seat.
“It’s OK, I already know about the hookers,” I said.
“I told you about that?” he asked.
“Yes, I asked you if you’d ever hired prostitutes and you said you didn’t want to lie so you weren’t going to answer my question.”
“I’m going to stop digging my hole now,” he said.
Still visibly uncomfortable, a few minutes later he went outside to smoke and then a few minutes after that waved through the window and pointed uptown to indicate he was leaving.
Evan was right. He was no man.
The next day, I was hanging out with Eva, telling her about #120’s lameness and the phone rang. It was him.
“Holy shit. It’s him. He hasn’t called me in weeks…months,” I said.
I didn’t pick up. I listened to the message after and all he'd said was, “I was trying to find that glasses frames store that we went to, but I can’t find it. It was on 9th or 10th. I’m around there now. Let me know if you remember where it is…”
That was it. No “Bye” or “Hi, hope you’re doing well,” or, more likely, the truth: “I’d like to get together but I’m too much of a loser to just ask you if you’d like to meet up, so I’m just going to see if you’ll come running to meet me.”
“Ugh,” Eva said. “Treat 'em mean, keep 'em keen. Don’t call him back. He’s fishing.
And then he called three more times but left no message. Then he sent a text. All it said was, “Found it.”
I waited an hour to make it seem like I had only just seen his messages and texted him back.
“Ugh,” Eva said. “Treat 'em mean, keep 'em keen. Don’t call him back. He’s fishing.
And then he called three more times but left no message. Then he sent a text. All it said was, “Found it.”
I waited an hour to make it seem like I had only just seen his messages and texted him back.
Me: “You called me four times about a glasses frames store?”
#120: Yeah? Cool huh!
Me: Painfully cool.
#120: I’ll take that
Diagnosis: For him: He’s a terrible fisherman. And not much of a man either.
For me: I’m so done taking the bait from this particular fisherman. Yes, I did fish first a bit with “Cake,” but there’s an acceptable double standard at work here. Ultimately, though, if I hadn't been completely done with him by this point, I certainly was now.
#120: Yeah? Cool huh!
Me: Painfully cool.
#120: I’ll take that
Diagnosis: For him: He’s a terrible fisherman. And not much of a man either.
For me: I’m so done taking the bait from this particular fisherman. Yes, I did fish first a bit with “Cake,” but there’s an acceptable double standard at work here. Ultimately, though, if I hadn't been completely done with him by this point, I certainly was now.
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