We met on Twitter, the Killer Kisser and I did. He shanghied me into a date with him, as Roommate E put it. He responded to our brief conversation with, “Uh-oh. I see myself about to be pulled into one of your blog posts ;)”
To M, I said, “I’m not sure if it’s clever or annoying.”
M ‘s response: “Depends on how cute he is.”
So of course, we internet stalked him. And at the same time exclaimed in our gchat window, “CLEVER.” He’s attractive.
He and I exchanged a few Direct Messages, and the Friday after found ourselves both at Red Palace, half on purpose, half by coincidence. He met up with E, W and I after the show he saw, and what seemed an innocuous meeting quickly became an impromptu blind date.
The four of us reminisced college shenanigans, laughed over embarrassing stories and drank just enough to head the party to Little Miss Whiskey’s. The Killer Kisser had never been, and as he has been everywhere in the city, I felt a certain excitement at introducing him to my favorite seedy dance club. An Awesomeness and E & W leaving later, the Killer Kisser earned his nickname.
We were open about our expectations. He just got out of something very serious, and this is really his first time single; I stayed steadfast by my declaration of “I only do casual,” so it seemed we were on the same page.
But we texted every day. And I wrote about him. And the people closest to me said, “The way you write about him and talk about him doesn’t resonate with what you’re telling him you want. You want more.”
To further convince myself, and them, that I didn’t, indeed, want more, I overcompensated. I started talking to someone new, told him I only wanted casual. Turns out, two casual dating relationships do not equal one good thing. I tweeted it all, and that was awkward. I was conscious of him reading my tweets, even more conscious that I was constantly reading his. But it’s for the blog, and I only want casual, I yelled at myself.
But I kept tweeting my (mis)adventures with men; asked him out for a sex date and reacted poorly when the conversation didn’t go well; sent him an apology email; and, the next day, he sent me this email:
As much as I want to pretend I can exclude myself from any deep feelings about people that’s just not possible…I can’t make my mind work that way. It was probably a bit naive on my part to even assume that I could try, since I’ve never been like that my entire life. A lot of people hate commitment, but I love it, and to be in some kind of relationship that doesn’t include that just leaves me feeling like I’m lacking something. I really did enjoy the times we spent together, and the chemistry I felt had an extremely appealing electricity to it. I think you’ve got a fantastic thing going right now, and it probably sounds like a stupid cop-out, but please believe everything I tell people is genuine, and I don’t want to get in the way of that for you.
Sigh. My heart hurts, and that’s the best, if cheesiest, way to say it. I’m not head over heels for him, and I’m not pining, though. I didn’t lay in bed with ice cream and watch Pretty Woman eight times over. What I did is go for a really long run, wiped a few tears away with the sweat, sat down and thought.
Had I been honest with myself, I would have admitted that I wanted to get to know him. I wanted to go out to dinner with him and take his recommendations on which bar to head to after. I liked him, and I wanted a chance to get to know him. But I’ve committed to this idea of myself that I am open and free and adventurous and don’t want anything serious so strongly that I couldn’t see something great when it was there.
So I’ve re-examined why I date and why I do all of this, and have come to this conclusion: I’m not seeking out serious, but if something wonderful this way comes, I’m not turning away from it. From now on, if I date someone, and we have a real, genuine connection and mutual interest in each other, I won’t tell them that I’m just looking for casual, even if that’s what they tell me they want.
Heartache is par for the course in dating, but I’d rather experience that disappointment in the beginning when we realize our interest in each other is misaligned, than even three dates in, when not being on the same page stings just a little worse.