Soul Mates and Cereal Aisles

About three weeks ago I had a momentary idiot attack and emailed a guy I dated this fall and asked if him if he would be opposed to having dinner. We honestly have stayed in touch sporadically and I really liked him. I figure . . . what have I got to lose?

After two weeks of nothing but the sound of crickets chirping in my inbox I figure the answer is no. I sigh. Accept the silence and pledge to move on.

But then, lo and behold, what have we here? A two week late totally tardy response.

He says sure, he’ll have dinner but it has to be platonic. Timing just isn’t the best.

For him.

I decide not to pry. And to retract my dinner invitation. I didn’t ask for a friendship dinner and I really don’t feel like auditioning for a part in a sequel when I was cast so easily the first time around. My gut feeling said, “This is a waste of energy.”

So I decide to be diplomatic and write back, “Glad you are doing well. Since I sent this invitation a few weeks ago a lot has changed in my life as well, so the timing isn’t the best for me either.”

I sign off wishing him well and figure I can put a bow on that one and forget it. He emails me back in half a nanosecond. Oh the beauty of a blackberry.

“What’s changed in your life that it isn’t the best timing?”

Ok, now I’m torked.

First off by the fact that he emails me back two seconds after I am suddenly and mysteriously unattainable. Secondly, I wasn’t nosy about his reasons so what gives him the right to ask me about mine?

So I respond with this:

“Oddly enough, I met my soul mate in the cereal aisle of Hornbacher’s last week and we’re eloping next Tuesday. I’m registered at Target. Feel free to send a gift.”

I figure my smart ass attack is justifiable. I am not demanding/inquiring to know what his reasons are for “not the best timing.” He could be in rehab. Have a raging STD. None of my beeswax.

And okay fine.

I confess that I really don’t want to know the name of Miss Not the Best Timing if she exists. Because that’s called rejection. And call me crazy but not one of my top ten favorite feelings to feel.

Unfortunately, he doesn't view my sarcasm as a closed door but an open one. He keeps emailing me back. Tells me I’m funny. That he misses talking to me every day. That no one he dates is as great as me. But again. He reiterates.

It’s just.

Not the best timing.

I feel like standing up and saying, “Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury, the defendant can provide no solid evidence as to why we should not be dating again . . .”

Long story short we have a little word war. But even that sucks me in deeper. I like men who are men, who can challenge me. Stand up for themselves. Match me and march with me in a verbal spar.

But I stay strong and don't agree to the olive branch of friendship over french fries he is offering. Doing so has the potential to make me the star of a a video montage with scenes of my life set to Katie Perry’s “Hot and Cold”.

So.

That’s that.

Our email battle did ultimately evolve into mutual understanding. And? An ending. He never expounded on his reasons and I didn’t ask.

But I do feel better. It wasn’t the answer I was looking for but it was an answer.

He’s just not that into me.

And I can live with that.

I just hope he can live with that STD and stint in rehab.

Poor guy.
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Hey Bobby . .. if you read this, I hope you laughed. Enjoy the Etch a Sketch. If you ever need someone talented enough to draw a heart on it . . . you know who to call.
~Audra