I have been putting off writing this for some time. Perhaps I did not want to have to type it up. The previous post was so positive. Maybe if I didn’t write about it, I could still live in the moment of potential. Maybe it’s just been long enough that the details have grown fuzzy, and I worry that the story won’t be as effective, I’ve discussed it on Twitter, though, and it makes good content for the blog.
I met a guy, and while it wasn’t love at first site like it usually is, it seemed like there was potential. The fact that he wasn’t my physical ideal bothered me, though, but I didn’t want to be shallow. I figured I’d push on anyway. In hindsight, having to “push on” probably isn’t a good idea, but I’d hoped that attraction to his personality would attract me to his looks as well.
So we kept talking over the phone and via text, and I thought I was beginning to like him more, but I was always honest that our feelings for each other were on different levels. At times I wondered if I liked him or just the intimacy of the situation, and I think the latter is really true. I was confused, but I let him know that. I really wanted to like him. I wanted to love him. He was a nice guy.. at that point.. and it would have been nice. Easy. I’m so ready to have someone, you know?
And so we planned a date, an overnight date. We had been talking about sex, and I was also ready to end my dry spell. I think that part of me was hoping it would go well enough that we would have sex and perhaps nothing more. The more I write, the more I feel like a dick. But it wasn’t like this while it was happening. There was no clarity. There was only confusion, and I knew I needed that date to bring with it clarity. I just had hoped the clarity would be in his favor.
I guess you can tell that it wasn’t. That isn’t to say that it was all bad. We had fun, a lot of it. We joked and we cuddled and we held hands, but by the time we had sex, it was obvious to me that there were hangups I couldn’t get over. And some of those were his hangups. But let me back up.
The major point of clarity that I had wasn’t that I was attracted to him and wanted to be with him. No, I was comfortable enough to do relationship-like and physical things. It’s probably best as a FWB situation for me. Of course, this is not how he felt. I immediately regretted sleeping with him because I knew that his intentions were different and I didn’t want to lead him on.
Aside from the physical attraction, I disliked his lack of attention to oral hygiene. When you spend the night, you bring a toothbrush. Always. Okay dude? And you bring different clothes for the next day, always. It’s not like he didn’t have heads up. The fact that he even slept in his clothes only exemplified how uncomfortable he was in his own skin, and this left me feeling like I shouldn’t look at him. Considering that he practically followed me around with a raging hard-on, it was pretty difficult to finally get him out of his clothes.
The sex itself was interesting. Pair one nice penis with awkward mechanics due to his size and a complete lack of vocalization, and I had a hard time getting into it — or knowing when it was done.
Confidence is a turn on, but a lack of it is more than just a turn off. It’s a deal breaker. As a friend, I want to help people feel better about themselves, but I got the feeling that entering into a relationship with this guy would have been a lot of work, and I’m just not into that idea at this point in my life. Add to is that this guy is only somewhat employed and seems to lack motivation, and I just wasn’t feeling it. I talked to a few friends, most of whom told me to give it some time and get over my issues with his looks. I respected the advice, but I knew I couldn’t wait it out after he sent me this text about how much he missed me and couldn’t get me out of his head. It was poetic in a sappy way. It only further turned me off and sealed his fate.
So I told him where I stood, and he didn’t take it well. We weren’t dating. We’d only known each other for two weeks. There were no three little words. apparently, none of that mattered. He’d fallen. I was a liar. I’d led him on and he’d plummeted into some sort of depression because he would never find the woman for him. On the one hand, I understand he’s upset. On the other hand, it was only two weeks.
Two fucking weeks.
There’s no need to be so emo about it. If I’d known how emotionally immature he was, I think I would have ran far away from the very first.
The Facebook activity is passive aggressive but not directed at me. However, even after saying that we should take time to mend our wounds, he doesn’t get the concept of space. He was texting me every day, and two or three times he stopped to make grand gestures, or what I am sure are grand gestures on his part about how I never gave us a chance, lied or hurt him. In one text, he claimed that he thought he was just what I needed but I was afraid of that.
I am not afraid. I am just not interested, especially after that. Time and again I’ve told him to shut his mouth if he wants to remain friends, but he’s failed to do so. For the time being, he’s blocked.
