My Whim is Law

…where a single parent in Portland still believes that wishing will make it so…

I meant what I said

Update x2, Monday afternoon: Um, not viable. At least I was (atypically) generous. Back to the drawing board.

Update, Sunday evening: The gentleman and I talked via phone for an hour or so this evening. Profuse apologies were offered, along with a side dish of blunt honesty. A tentative truce is in place, pending future F2F conversation soon. Why am I doing this? We are all fundamentally flawed human beings at our core, and most of us deserve at least a second chance to redeem ourselves – no? But I am, of course, still watchful…

A Three Act story of last night’s date, acted out via text message/phone/conversation.

Backstory: I mean what I say. No games, drama, manipulation, or coyness – I’m too old for all of that. But apparently, that’s a rarity here in passive-aggressive Portland.

Act One – The Prelude:

Him: I’m really attracted to smart, articulate women like you.
Him: What are we doing tonight.
Him: I want to kiss you.
Me: Be patient
[omitting all of the boring back & forth negotiation about boundaries, logistics and agenda for the evening - which does include dancing and does NOT include sleeping together. Or car scenes. Not because I don't want to - but because I'm not ready, and it's not right. Yet. And yes - I'm up-front & direct; he agrees.]

Act Two – The Stand-off:

[omitting multiple scene changes, verbal jousting, serious conversation & way too much PDA - but no dancing. Our Heroine really was looking forward to the dancing...]
Me: You’re pushing. And I’m not comfortable. So I’m done for tonight.
Him: You’re blowing me off for good, aren’t you?
Me: I meant what I said – for tonight.
Him: You’ve already decided. You just won’t say it.
Me: I don’t pull punches. And I haven’t decided anything more than I’m done for tonight.

[now in the car, on way back to starting point]
Me (on Twitter): Abort, abort, reverse course.
Him: I do this all the time – I push, and don’t know when to stop.
Me: I’m telling you not to push any more. Tonight.
Him: What are you hiding from? What are you afraid of? Why won’t you say it?
Me: (Silence)

[back at starting point]
Me: I really liked spending time with you. And now I’m leaving you alone for the rest of the night.
[end scene when Our Heroine walks away]

Act Three – Closure:

[after repeated attempts to re-engage in person]
Him: I’m leaving now.
Him: I know you don’t really want me to go.
Him: You can change your mind, you know.
[time passes, no reply, then incoming texts resume]
Him: Pass
Me: Fine
Him: U sure
Him: Night
Me (on Twitter, in conversation): I don’t hesitate to pull the ripcord

When what I say is analyzed, re-interpreted, disregarded or ignored? Then I’m now done. For good.

Because as a “smart, articulate woman”, well – I mean what I say.

Posted in Oversharing, Wacky Dating Stories | 2 Comments

2 Responses to I meant what I said

  1. I had to look up “PDA.” Also, needy, overanalyzing man? Such a turn-off.

  2. Betsy Richter says:

    Yeah, well – sometimes we’re just not at our best. There were, uh, extenuating circumstances – and I’m going to give him a second chance to redeem himself.

Surely you're not going to let me have the last word - are you?

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