After generating a large amount of Christmas
cheer with #113, the Jewish doctor, I had high hopes. In the days after Christmas,
there were some texts, but things were on a downswing rather than an upswing.
Where were the phone calls? Where were the plans to meet up at Sundance?
Taking a cue from "Calling in the One," instead
of sitting around wondering if he was going to call and going crazy when he
didn’t, I was direct about what I wanted.
I texted him: Happy Thursday, Mr. Piano Man.
I would love it if you had some time to catch up via telefono sometime soon…”
After I sent it, I couldn't stop smiling. I'm not sure how to say it, but I was really proud of me. I made me laugh. I was tickled by my directness. It was so foreign. Not to get too cheesy, but I even caught myself thinking, "That was so great. I love me."
Two days later, having heard nothing, I was totally fine. His silence had become my answer. He was incapable of doing what I asked. It was New Year's Eve and I was on the M train crossing the Williamsburg Bridge headed to
a party with Kevin when a text came in.
#113: Happy new year Tara, wish you were
here, or I was there with you. Maybe a party in dumbo or nolita?
I looked at Kevin. “A text? Two days later? What
about a phone call? I asked for a phone call.”
Kevin not only shared my aggravation, he
surpassed it. “It’s like he only gets in touch with you
when he wants to, like he’s acting as if he’s in a relationship without doing
any of the stuff that makes it a relationship.”
I remained standoffish in my reply: You, too.
Have a great new year’s!
#113: Just getting sushi.
We were baffled. “So?” Kevin said. I answered #113 with no response.
Maybe the standoffishness had an effect because he called
the next night and left a message. And then I called him back the next night
and left a message. And then two weeks went by with nothing until another text arrived.
#113: Small batches.
Again, I didn’t respond.
Again, I didn’t respond.
One month later, on Valentine’s Day, with #113 having completely vanished from my mind, I was
sitting on my sofa watching TV, enjoying my self-imposed singleness as I worked
toward finishing "Calling in the One" when a text came in.
#113: Happy valentine’s day! Be mine
I laughed as I realized I hadn’t thought about him in over a month. Having failed to call me, he'd become an automatic write-off. I wasn’t sure
what kind of fantasyland he was living in. Be mine? Seriously?
I played nice.
Me: Aw, you are sweet. Happy Valentine’s Day.
#113: Miss you. Have your necklace and want
to keep it til I see you. Piano coming this weekend.
I laughed again. He missed me? Why didn’t he
call me then? It was 2012. There were so many communication options. He had an
iPhone. I had an iPhone. We could call. We could Skype. We could Facetime.
I remained polite but standoffish.
Me: Aw, yes, you’ll have to return my
necklace in person. Keep me posted on your travels. And I’m glad your piano is
finally on its way.
But the more standoffish I was, the more he appeared to pursue.
#113: Like you. How we are it is nice
surprise. Spontaneous.
I laughed even harder. "How we are?" We weren’t
anything. And we weren't spontaneous, we were non-committal.
And then it got even better. He sent a photo.
Of himself. In bed. In his boxers and a T-shirt. Clearly, he’d just taken it.
While he did look cute lying there in boxers and a T-shirt, I panicked at where
things were headed. Was this sexting?
Help me out here. What is it called when you’ve
had a romantic liaison with someone and you don’t hear from him in any real way
for a month and a half and then he reappears expecting you to pick up via text from
exactly where you left off when you saw him? Presumptuous? Flaky? Rude? I shut
him down.
Me: Yes, we’ll have to see what happens next.
Cute photo. It’s sleepytime here, too. On that note, I must get some shuteye.
Have a good evening. Sleep well. Xx
He was no dummy.
#113: Sleep well T.
Signs of Hope: He did call once and leave a
message.
Red Flags: After I called him back, he never
called me back.
Turning Point: When he never called me back.
Diagnosis: For him: He appears perfectly
happy to be living in fantasyland.
For me: I shut him down, but I didn't completely shut him down.
