Monday, March 10, 2014

Karma & the BLOW OFF

A few moons ago, I was out with friends at a local bar for a supposed ‘girl’s night’. (Am I the only one who finds that girl’s nights end up being the ones you’re hit on most? And when you go out actually interested in finding … something, you’re ignored like a leper in the main square? No? Just me. Ok.) A couple of attractive fellows came over and chatted us up, which we ever so graciously permitted.  After last call, we all began making our way outside. We split back up into our respective groups and started the walk home. I don’t know if it was the fact that I hadn’t made out with anyone in the past month or simply the combination of the wine and liquor I’d consumed, but I dropped a couple steps behind my friends, turned to the guy I’d mostly been talking with, and kissed him. (Let’s call him Tom, shall we?)
I then smiled coyly, said goodnight, and sprinted across the street to catch up with the girls. My friends were giggling, but quickly quieted down when we heard footsteps behind us. Tom had sprinted across the street, and gallantly offered to walk me home. We ended up going to his place, and while we didn’t have sex, we certainly had a good time. And Tom got bonus points for walking me home in the freezing cold at the asscrack of dawn because I couldn’t sleep well, most likely due to the mixture of alcohol in my stomach.

 He took me out to dinner a few days later, and I experienced first hand what it was like to have great sexual chemistry with a person while not actually liking them as a person. At all. I remember thinking ‘What a Debbie downer!’ during the date.  But oh man, could the boy kiss. We’re talking stomach swooshing make out sessions. However, by the third date I realized the only times the conversation wasn’t jilted was when we were making fun of something or someone. Tom definitely fell on the ‘glass half empty’ side of things, and he tipped like a jerk.

Shortly after that third date, I visited my friend in NYC (another story for another day) and when I came back…. I never texted. I never called. And I never responded to any of his texts. I was that asshole who just dropped off the face of the earth with no explanation. What a jerk.

Fast forward two years later. I was out dancing with a friend, and someone grabbed my arm on the dance floor. It was Tom. I picked my jaw up off the floor, and said hi. We made small talk, then carried on with our evenings. The next day I texted him an apology for what a bitch I’d been to him a few years ago. (Can you see where this is going?)  He forgave me instantly, and said seeing me the previous night had actually been the highlight of his night. We started a tentative flirtation, and after a week or so met for drinks at a local bar. He didn’t seem as negative as I’d remembered, and he was a little more grown up. I actually enjoyed myself, so naturally when he drove me home, I again made the first move. I kissed him goodnight, and he was just as good of a kisser as I remembered. I remember he looked at me with this expression on his face like, ‘Alright. Let’s do this.’

We proceeded to go out on numerous dates and I discovered he was one of the few people I really enjoyed arguing with. Normally I’m a pretty non-confrontational person, but something about Tom made my devil’s advocate side come out to play in full force. I still wasn’t convinced I actually liked him, but it was fun going out with him- if that makes sense.  The night before he went on vacation, we moved things to his bedroom. And again, we didn’t sleep together (he had to drive to his parents’ house because they were taking him to the airport… hmmmm… that should have been a tip off) but we had some fun. He walked me to my car, we held hands, and said goodbye. It was adorable.

I happened to go on a trip at the same time he returned from his vacation, so when I got back I texted him asking if he wanted to hang out. He responded with, ‘I’ve got a cold and feel pretty crummy right now, so maybe later’. And I never heard from him again. When I got that text I remember looking at the phone, thinking ‘Huh. Guess that’s over’, and shrugging. Somehow I knew he wasn’t ever going to contact me again. Now I just have to wonder if he planned it from the minute we started talking again or if he really just wasn’t into me. The unfortunate part was it happened after we got naked with each other. That’s never good for the self-confidence, right? However, on the whole, I just found the whole thing really amusing. And oddly karmicly satisfying. It’s cool, universe. I can take a joke.


  1. 'Tis the season for checkn mulch checkn.

    1. I'm vicariously getting over it.