Stepping Stone

We've all heard the old adage that the best way to get over a man is to get under a new one. Well, I decided last week that I was ready to move on from Almost Perfect. I met some interesting fellows at a couple bars downtown while out with one of my best gal pals, and we hung out with a bachelor party during their escapades for a while. Well, the most interesting fellow from that evening turned out to be married- sans ring! So I continued my search by going to the easiest, fastest place to find a date: Tinder. Ugh. I know what everyone thinks of Tinder, and I'm not endorsing it. But seriously everybody is on there. The doctor I dated from Match is on there. I saw a couple guys I know from church on there. Colleagues. Neighbors. Rando's (short for "random guys"). It just happens to be the deepest pool in which to fish. 

So in my effort to move on, I met my Stepping Stone for decaf coffee on a Sunday evening. I let two of my friends know where I was going and gave them his name and pic just in case he tried to kidnap or murder me. You know, safety first. So my friend asked why we were going for coffee instead of cocktails. Didn't I want something to take the edge off? I told her that I like when a man suggests coffee because for one thing I'm not a nervous dater and as much as I love tequila I don't need it as a social lubricant. Secondly, I find that a man who buys you coffee has no expectation of your potentially getting drunk upon your first meeting and subsequently trying to take you home that night. Coffee is unassuming. 

Anyway, I scheduled my date with Stepping Stone for an hour since I had dinner plans with a friend that evening as well.  He offered to meet me on my side of town, but I picked a place near his neighborhood since I was also meeting my friend near there later. He was a few minutes late and texted me a couple times about exactly where the coffee shop was located. I discovered that he'd only been in Omaha for about 4 months so he didn't quite have the lay of the land yet. 

We chatted about our families, interests, and hobbies. Basically the typical get to know you first date stuff, seeing if we had things in common. I had mentioned that I went to church that morning and asked if he attended church anywhere. He said he went to Alcoholics Anonymous and they had a spiritual side to their program....um, that's great but not exactly what I meant. He did say that he'd gone to a church for a while in another state before he moved back, and he just hadn't really looked for one in town yet. I guess being just 60 days sober perhaps he was preoccupied. 

During our date, I happened to run into not just one but two of my coworkers! Separately. One of them being one of my bosses. Just what I want on a blind date. Oh well. My social life isn't exactly a secret. 

After a short while, Stepping Stone said he didn't want to make me late to meet my friend. Without realizing my opportunity to leave a boring date, I said I didn't need to leave for another 15 minutes. Then it occurred to me that maybe he was bored, too! Anyway, we made small talk for another 15 minutes and then I dismissed myself to get going. 

He asked me out again for the next weekend, and out of politeness I said yes. Maybe he wasn't as bored as I was! He texted me a few times during the week until I finally told him that although he seemed like a nice guy I just didn't feel a connection and I didn't want to waste his time. He thanked me for my honesty. 

Moral of Today's Story:

I don't how much going out with men I don't like actually helps to forget the one who broke my heart. But I can put Almost Perfect a little further in the past because he's no longer the last person I went on a date with. Maybe I didn't get closure from Almost Perfect, but I'm choosing to move forward and nobody can rob me of that. 

Giant Murse

Last Fall, I dated a type of man I'd already sworn off. A foreign man. An African man. I had sworn off all foreign men based on some of my own as well as some of my friend's experiences. But sometimes when you're shopping for men on the internet and you see things like 6'6" you can't fight the impulse to swipe right. One of my weaknesses is gigantically tall men. Other types of mine include: NBA sized men, football player builds, hot nerdy athletes, sexy computer geeks, authoritative business types, and male nurses. 

I know. That last one surprised me, too. But I had previously discovered there's something very attractive about a strong man who knows how to care for someone. Not to mention he specializes in anatomy and bedside manner! This man was both gigantically tall and a male nurse. 

Anyway, I went out with my Giant Murse and we had a nice time. He wasn't smooth like a lot of "player" types I'd known, but he was sweet, sincere and romantic. I was hesitant to get too involved because of cultural differences, and I told him so. I explained that I'd dated an African man before who didn't treat women with the respect I expected in a relationship. He understood my desire to take things slow and so we did. 

After a few weeks, Giant Murse and I had the DTR (Define The Relationship) talk and we were officially boyfriend and girlfriend! Things went pretty well for a while. He cooked for me. He bought me a "just because" gift. He helped with a disgusting critter situation at home once. We even dressed in matching couples costumes for Halloween, which was a relationship bucket list item for me. Then his mother decided to come from Nigeria for a spontaneous 3 week visit! Dun, dun, dun...

Apparently, Giant Murse's mother thought that he had been a bachelor for too long and that she needed to come arrange for him to meet some nice African girls here in the States. When she arrived, he told her about me and that he would decide for himself who he would date. Yeah, you tell her!

We really weren't at a "meet the family" point yet, but since she was staying with him I thought I should at least say hello once. He didn't think that was a good idea. I got the feeling she would see me as some white, American hussy trying to corrupt her son. 

While she was staying, he had to drive her around places, amend his schedule to accommodate her, and he even cut our dates short because she would be waiting up until he got home! When you're dating a 33 year old man, curfew is not something you expect to be an issue! 

He also had his nursing board exam coming up (he was making a career change and had just finished nursing school), and he dealt with A LOT of anxiety about that test. Between studying for the exam and carting around his mother, he basically had no time for me. He kept telling me things would be better when he was done with the test. Then he took the test, but had to wait two days to get the results. He wouldn't even see me in the two days before he got the results! He said he'd still be too anxious and didn't want to celebrate if he didn't know he passed. Never mind that I'm over here just being the supportive but neglected girlfriend! 

Then he got the results -- he passed! Yay! Happy days are here again! Giant Murse was an official nurse! But he wanted to wait until his mom left town to get together again! Two more days. 

Then radio silence. I didn't hear from him. He didn't respond to texts or voicemails. After a few very frustrating days, I told him that if I didn't hear from him by the end of the day I would take it as his way of breaking up with me. 

Still nothing.

A small part of me was concerned that all the anxiety he'd been dealing with had gotten the best of him and that he'd had some sort of meltdown, but he finally did text me two weeks later. He didn't have a good reason for not contacting me. Basically his anxiety had indeed gotten the better of him. He had told me before that when he was overwhelmed or stressed he tended to just shut everybody out and not respond to anyone at all. I told him that's not ok with me if he wants to be in a relationship. We texted a couple times over the next few months mostly just checking in, seeing how the other person is doing. He never really tried to get back with me though. I'm both surprised and offended by that, but I think it was for the best. 

Moral Of Today's Story:

1. Be leery of a mama's boy who won't let you near her. Mother's love me! We don't need to have dinner or go shopping together when our dating relationship has just started, but a simple meet and greet when she's staying WITH YOU might be appropriate. 
2. It's just not ok to stop communicating. Use your words! 
3. Perhaps I should trust my instincts that made me reluctant in the first place. Then I won't be kicking myself and saying "I told me so" later. 

Almost Perfect

When I started this blog a couple years ago, I had a plethora of comically awful dates that made for great stories. And you loyal readers know my motto- "there's no such thing as a bad date, just good dates and good lunch stories."  Well I've had a lot of good dates in the past year or so, but still no happy ending. Unfortunately, when the dates are good but the ending is bad it's not always a story I want to tell. 

My latest failed romance with Almost Perfect started off in storybook fashion at a costume party with dancing and drinks and even celebrating our one hour anniversary with a kiss under the disco ball. For weeks, I had fantastic dates with this charming and gallant man. I felt like the leading lady in a silver screen romance! In fact, I'm not going to go into detail now, but our times together we're so memorable that my writing energies for that month went into documenting our "love story" which would've probably been a self-published book given as my sappy groom's gift at our wedding one day. I could easily picture us growing old together. 

Ok, so you're starting to get the picture that I fell hard and fast for this guy. He truly epitomized everything I'd been looking for over the past three decades! He was sweet and considerate, irreverently funny, handsome, professional, we had complimentary features that made us look good as a couple, we shared values, ideals, and interests, etc, etc... I knew Almost Perfect wasn't perfect, but he was perfect for me.

In past relationships, I've usually had some level of reservations or concerns over things that I knew probably wouldn't play out ideally, but with Almost Perfect I had no inkling of our untimely and unfortunate ending. He showed no signs of douchebaggery. He called on the phone  rather than just texting like so many douchebags do. He made plans with me and carved out time in his hectic schedule to prioritize me. He was there for me when I had a stressful day and took me out to eat and drink whatever I wanted. He appreciated my domesticity which made me feel valued for doing things I like to do. He didn't get angry easily even when I accidentally broke a light fixture at his house. He was kind and courteous to wait staff, and generously tipped, too! (I once saw him discreetly over-tip our waitress when he found out that another table stiffed her.)  He introduced me to his friends. He met some of mine. He pursued me. Until he apparently hit the wall and lost all interest in and remembrance of me.

At one point after I had infected him with a nasty stomach flu that I'd had the week before, I hadn't seen him for a couple days. Now he was busy with work and a lot of projects so it wasn't atypical to go a few days without seeing him, but he had always been great about calling me back and making plans to see me again. So I called him on a Wednesday afternoon, and he answered and talked to me for less than a minute. He pleasantly said he was in the middle of about ten things and that he would call me back shortly...that was the last I heard from him. It's been four weeks now. 

I have no idea how this Almost Perfect man went from wonderful to MIA with no explanation. I was in shock and denial for the first couple days. They say that the five stages of grief - Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and Acceptance -  apply to all sorts of losses, but my breakup stages of grief are best measured in units of alcohol, minutes spent on "revenge body" workouts, number of emotional eating binges before and/or after revenge workout, and the volume of sad Toni Braxton songs played on repeat. (Unbreak My Heart speaks to me on a pathetically personal level)

I loved Almost Perfect. I think I fell in love with him on our first date, which was a crazy good story that perhaps I'll tell another time. At first it was hard to be mad at him or hate him when all of my memories of him are good. I am mad at him now for how he took the cowards way of ending things. Somehow our culture has made it acceptable to men to "ghost" when they no longer want to put in the effort a relationship takes. I texted him the day after he said he would call me back figuring he just got busy with work stuff. Then I texted again two days later. By five days later I left him a voicemail calmly stating that I felt he owed me an explanation for why I hadn't heard from him in five days and requested that he call me back. 

Obviously, I still haven't heard anything. My friends who always have my back in a time of crisis checked for his obituary in the paper/internet since death or coma would've been the only acceptable reasons for him to disappear. At least I can say I'm fortunate to have a lot of people who care about me and I've received a variety of sympathy, tough love, and mostly good advice. I've heard a lot of "it's his loss," which is true because I'm fabulous! But I'm the one who was left to grieve the loss. Some friends have wanted so badly to make me feel better and give me advice so that I'd never hurt again, but if you're not willing to risk hurt I don't think you can find love. 

Moral Of Today's Story:

I have no regrets. I ascribe to Alfred Lord Tennyson's belief that it's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. I will be cautious, of course, not to have my heart broken again, but I don't want to love out of just part of my wounded heart. Since I'm into cheesy quotes today, I'll borrow from William Purkey and say my next chapter goals are to dance like no one is watching, love like I'll never be hurt, sing like no one is listening, and live like it's heaven on earth.