"So trust me when I say if a guy is treating you like he doesn't give a shit, he genuinely doesn't give a shit."
I wish I could say "Here endeth the lesson." But the truth is, this is where it begins. I am pretty sure that I opened my very first post on this site with this quote. It's a personal favorite of mine. But even with this life-altering approach to dating, it's still easy to get swept up in the temptation of making excuses for a person you're attracted to. That said, I pride myself that there's only so far he can go before I stop making those excuses.
Oh yeah. You guessed it. Mr. Charming screwed up, big time. I believe it had been a month and a half since the last time I spoke with him, two months since I'd actually seen him in person. He can say all he wants about working over-time, but eventually even I run out of second chances to hand out, no matter how much I like the guy. Not hearing from him? Well, it's one thing to reconnect one time, but when it happens a second time…okay. I can take a hint.
So imagine my surprise, my dismay, upon waking up Sunday morning to discover two missed calls from Mr. Charming at around 3:30 in the morning.
No he didn't.
So, naturally, frowning through my pre-coffee delirium, I texted him.
<<<< Hey, did you try to call me last night?
Around 2:00 in the afternoon, presumably after he slept off whatever hangover he was probably nursing, I got this little gem:
Even now, as I type it, I find myself getting offended all over again. Even the most naive of us knows what that phone call was about. No excuses. And after everything I've been through with men, I'm through letting them off the hook for this kind of stuff. Every time we don't say anything, they assume this behavior is acceptable.
<<<< Wow. I am so not your booty call.
After firing off that message a little too forcefully, I seethed for a few hours (all while receiving no reply, by the way) until Alice texted me and we decided to go out for the night. So I curled my hair and donned my little black dress and those shoes and went out and drank Champagne. Because—and this is important—if you're angry at a man, it helps to feel like you're a hottie and he's an idiot for missing his chance with you.
Alice is a generally kind, analytical soul, and she spent much of the evening being alternately outraged on my behalf and appropriately sympathetic in all the right places. Like me, Alice also has a tendency to play devil's advocate, so we spent a portion of the night (after we'd run out of scathing names to call him) deliberating over the fact that tragically, pathetically, part of me is still attracted to Mr. Charming. I know better. Honestly I do. I fully realize that the person I keep hoping he'll turn out to be is not who he actually is, but I can't help that my emotions aren't based in sound reasoning.
"It's not like he couldn't salvage the situation if he wanted to," I sighed into my third glass of champagne, my wallet crying soft tears from inside my purse. "It would be so easy: 'Hey! I'm so sorry! I was drunk. I didn't mean to make you feel that way.' That's all it would really take. Well, that, and actually hearing from him once in a while."
But while I was writing him off, Alice was advocating for at least communicating what I would expect from him on the off-chance he actually does like me and is significantly more of a moron than we all thought.
"Men are dumb," Alice said. "Sometimes you literally have to spell out for them what you want."
Well, in the time it took me to finish that last glass (plus or minus the time it took me to get home and pull my stilettos off of my aching feet) that started to sound like some pretty rational advice for my irrational self.
So I sent out one more text, my final attempt, my last chance to say "Listen here, you little shit, if you at all want a chance with me at this point, this is where I stand. If not…have a nice life." But more eloquently. What I actually said was:
<<<< Look, I just have to say I am genuinely confused. I haven't heard from you in over a month. Again. Which to any reasonable person is a strong and clear signal that you're not interested. Fine. Okay. But I don't know where you got the idea that I would be available to you at 3:30 in the morning after being missing in action like that.
Honestly, I like you. I enjoy spending time with you. But I'm not interested in being out-of-sight, out-of-mind. And I'm really not interested in being treated like I'm an easy hook-up. I also think you know that without being told, which is why I'm so confused at the moment. I really didn't expect that kind of disrespect from you. What gives?
At which point I fell asleep, then woke up and puked, then looked at my phone and found the incredibly eloquent, well-thought out response:
>>>> I was drunk
>>>> Its like I dont like you or was intentionally trying to be disrespectful [sic]
Oh God the typos alone make me cringe and want to puke again. I've rarely been so disgusted. Captain Mixed Signals felt the need to make excuses for his shitty behavior but not to apologize for making me feel tawdry. (For the record, I meant it when I said the booty call was surprising. Yes, whatever was between us was casual, but he never once made me feel cheap before that moment, and there was certainly no calling anyone in the middle of the night for sex. That came entirely out of left field.)
And that's it. I spent an entire day resisting the urge to tell him to go to hell, flew to Dallas for a training conference, made it through the day to cocktail hour and then simply replied:
<<<< I've thought about it, and I still have no idea what to say to that.
For once in my life, I actually got the last word, too. I think he knew better than to try to engage in an argument with me over whether or not he should have to apologize to me.
As for me? All I can say is I'm disappointed in him. Lack of communication aside, he always treated me with respect when we went out together and made me feel great—or I wouldn't have liked him so much. It was just such an incredible let-down for him to pull a stunt like that.
I'm sick of it. I'm sick of being treated like crap. I deserve so much better than this and for some reason it's just not what I'm drawing into my life. I really don't get it.