Tuesday, April 20, 2010

the accidental BLOW OFF

Another great (or not so great) BLOW OFF story from one of our readers:

Admittedly since my teens, I have had many men. Some I can remember well; others remain a blur. When you are dealing with high numbers, there are bound to be blow-offs in the midst. Without sounding arrogant, it was usually I who was doing the blowing off. You see, I am not the girl you blow off; I am the girl you string along. Anyway, that’s another story. No matter how many times I decided to stop dead in my tracks and run the other way, I have to say it never felt good. And the blow-offs that hurt the most were the accidental ones. There were two and I often wonder if life would have played out differently had they not happened; or maybe they would have resulted in intentional blow-offs in the end, who knows. The first one happened during my freshman year of college and was my sister’s fault, but I will skip that one and go to the second, more painful one: post college during a severe dating dry spell and to this day a mystery – did he say Friday and mean Saturday or did he say Saturday and I heard Friday? We’ll never know.

Three years after university, I was living in San Francisco and having coffee with a guy who had been stringing me along on and off since junior year; I didn’t mind much as he was too cute not to let him and too dull to worry about getting hurt. Anyway, we were enjoying lattes and macaroons and chatting about not much when two guys came and sat down at the table next to us. One of them had long hair, a great smile and a backpack full of charisma. I tried to concentrate on my friend’s dull dissertation on dry wall (he was doing construction at the time) but found my attention gravitating to the next table. When my friend got up to go to the bathroom, I couldn’t help but make eye contact with the sexy long haired guy. He struck up a conversation and mentioned something about my ‘boyfriend’. I told him he wasn’t my boyfriend and we both smiled. My friend returned and I sunk down a bit in my chair, hoping that my face didn’t look as flushed as it felt. I spent the rest of the time wondering if this was one of those moments where you either act and win or don’t and lose. What if he was my Mr. Right and I was too scared to do anything because I was with Mr. Wrong? Anyway, as my friend went to pay, I found myself writing down my phone number on the back of a receipt and slipping it to Mr. charisma as we left. My stomach was full of jitters and my mind already wandering through our first date. Who knows, I thought, I could be madly in love by next week!

The next evening I got a call from coffee house guy and we talked for a long time. He was funny, smart, from a San Francisco family and quite eccentric. Anyway, we made dinner plans for that weekend and he told me that he’d swing by my place to pick me up.

Friday night came and my roommate asked me if I wanted to walk down the street for sushi with her and her boyfriend. Seeing as they were my usual weekend partners when I did not have plans, I accepted. We strolled down to our local sushi place, enjoyed a casual dinner and some beers and walked home. We checked our messages as we usually did when walking in, and we had three. I pressed play. Shockingly, they were all from coffee house guy and he sounded increasingly frustrated. Message one: Hi, it’s *** I’m down the street from your place at the bus stop pay phone… I rang your doorbell but you didn’t answer. I’ll try again. Message two: Hey, I’m at the pay phone again. Some drunk guy looks angry I took his spot. Not sure if you gave me the right address. Message three: You know, if you didn’t want to go out with me, all you had to do is say so! Enjoy your weekend (implied Bitch at the end of that one)!

I began to sweat, my heart began to race … Friday? He said Saturday! I know he did! Shit, I don’t know his number… I don’t even know his last name! I haven’t had a real date in months! Without even thinking, I threw my coat back on and ran out the door to the bus stop on the corner. I don’t know if I expected him to be sitting there at a candle lit table for two or if I just had to try and save the evening, but all I found was a tired looking woman with her even more tired looking son and a homeless man circling the phone booth and muttering to himself. I stopped myself from desperately questioning the both of them and wandered back home muttering my own regrets.

My friend tried to console me. Her boyfriend thought it was hilarious and told me it served me right, as he was a friend of Mr. String-along. I went to bed hoping he’d try calling me the following week.

He didn’t. I don’t blame him - It was too early to care that much and he had his pride to protect as I remember it had been a while since he’d dated anyone either. And me, well I continued on with Mr. String-along until he decided to go back to his high school girlfriend and I eventually met someone else. I am pretty sure that coffee house guy and I would not have dated long, but to this day I just wish I could find him and tell him that in my mind, it was Saturday night and I was looking so forward to it.

2 comments:

  1. That's a heartbreaker! But, for whatever it's worth, I think he's to blame too (or at least, you're not to blame). I mean, who gives someone their home address if they're planning to blow you off? Why didn't he give you his number, and why didn't he at least call you one more time? In that half hour or however long it was that he called three times, any sort of emergency or misunderstanding could have taken place... And why didn't he have a cell phone??

    So, yes it sucks big time, but obviously he wasn't the one for you.

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  2. Oh, that really sucks. There were no clues in your conversation that could help you track him down?

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