In the past several months, I've written a few posts about my (sometimes hilarious) attempts at getting back into the dating game. This is one of those posts, though it's not a funny one; rather it's one of reflection and introspect, with a little regret thrown in for good measure.
Several weeks ago, I met a man by the name of Anthony (not his real name so don't bother stalking my Facebook). He's a bit older than me, has two teenage children, and owns his own business. Anthony is smart, witty, a great conversationalist, and, not to feed his ego or anything if he happens to see this but... looks a bit like Robert Downey, Jr. with gray hair. And no, I'm not kidding about that last part.
We spent the entire weekend together at his house. I cooked (no surprise there for those who know me), we talked, we laughed, we were romantic, and we put this routine on repeat throughout the course of the weekend. The television never came on, nor did the radio, and for the most part, we ignored our phones. It was, to me, a wonderful weekend and as I left, Anthony promised to call or text or whatever came first.
Nothing came.
Over the past several weeks, I became that girl. Sadly, I sent Facebook chat messages (frequently but I wouldn't deem excessively), a few text messages, and even called him. Twice. Rarely did he ever reach out to me, and when he did, it was always through Facebook. I baked for him, and delivered it. In person. On a Saturday. And my ex-husband once won a bet based on the fact that he knew the slice-and-bake cookies were the ones I contributed to a cookie drop off. In short, I don't bake. Though oddly, I've found a certain comfort in it lately.
In the course of these few short weeks, something niggled in the back of my little pea brain. I was going against the singular most important lesson I learned from my failed marriage. Actions speak louder than words.
Anthony talked a good game. "I'm super busy, this is my season right now" and other similiar responses. And I understand he's busy. But even the most clueless of guys will send you a text or something to let you know he's thinking of you. Hell, I get FB chat messages from my office's paper supplier more frequently than I do Anthony and Paper Boy's (sorry C!) got a girlfriend.
So on Saturday morning, after a hellacious work week involving nights (plural) of clocking out at eleven that he knew about, I dropped off an Eclair Cake to Anthony at his place of business. A quick hug and kiss, and I was gone as I had plans that had been in place for well over a month. I continued my day, had fun, and when possible, slyly checked my phone for messages, whether it was a text or Facebook post or something.
Nothing.
After a huge effort on my part, the man couldn't be bothered to say, "Hey, Mo. Thanks again. The cake was delicious." I had to ask him about it Sunday night. Via Facebook. And when his only response to my "How was the cake?" question was, "Awesome" I realized I need more from someone.
I want to know I'm on his mind, whoever he may be, just as much as he's on mine. That he appreciates the efforts I go through to make his day just a little bit better. That while he may be busy, he's thinking of me and, when things slow down, he wants to see me again. And Anthony wasn't exactly giving that vibe off. Sure he seemed pleased enough to see me when I dropped off baked goods, but I wasn't getting the idea that in the back of his mind he was considering throwing me in the back of his truck and having his way with me.
I digress.
To be fair to him, it is his busy season. I've seen him working, and he works hard at what he does. And as any small business owner in Michigan knows, times are tough and you need to do what you need to do. He's also juggling his business with his daughter's spring athletics schedule, and having watched my parents go through that with my siblings, I know how hard that can be too.
But if you don't have the time to commit to something new, whether it's a relationship or a bowling league or a pottery class or whatever, don't put yourself out there that this is something you want.
Or be honest with me and tell me, "You're a great person, but I'm just not that into you." Lie about that first part if you have to.
So after much contemplation and considerable regret, I told Anthony exactly what I wanted him to know. "I won't be bothering you anymore. I think you're a wonderful man and deserve the very best life has to offer. And I hope that you someday find a woman who thinks you're as wonderful as I do."
I know in my head it was the right thing to do, but my goodness did I like this man!
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