A while back I mentioned a "cutie" in my post about drinks being the new coffee. Well since that post we stopped seeing each other and then re-saw each other after the alcohol induced text mess that was my 23rd birthday, Blair and Zoya can confirm. I'm blaming bartender Paul at Rumors, personally, since he decided that on my birthday I should drink things pink and fruity, aka, Adult Jungle Juice. Personal Recommendation of Bartenders Chris, Rob or Joe if you're drinking at Rumors, they will not lead you astray with sweetened fruit concoctions.
Well things were going good or about as good as I could expect. And then after a sudden text exchange about him staying in DC (didn't know you were leaving...) and a line or two about his emotional unavailability (surprise! surprise! welcome to my life). Things. went. down. hill. fast.
What had originally been a two way interaction turned into what felt like my one sided chase. And since I'm not so much on the whole running thing or the chasing men thing. I balked. But I still had a DVD to return.
So the next week went like this.
"What do you want me to do with your DVD?"
*insert his phone call at 10 a.m. here where (1) not answering a personal call at work and (2) leave me a message if the phone call is important or I'm not calling you back.
"What do you want me to do with your DVD?"
*insert bizarre Facebook chat where nothing was mentioned.
*insert him asking me to go see a band in Baltimore then canceling less than 24 hours later with potential plans for lunch on Sunday.
"Are you ok I didn't hear anything from you?" By this time I'm a little perturbed that he's being rude, so after consulting with my friend in the apartment down stairs I proceed to write a letter and slip it into a FED-EX envelope along with the DVD, which I plan on mailing out...
I got super busy, so it never happened, BUT...
*3 days later: He says, "Lost my phone. I'm seeing someone else. We're done."
Well that's hunky dory and all that jazz, because after the last time he unnecessarily jumbled my emotions, I decided that since (1) people are flaky (actually a legit study that you should date 5 people at a time, not that I abide by that rule because that's intense. But you should date 5 because 4 will eventually peter off, due to a gamut of factors), and (2) I'm young, single, and in a city full of attractive men, I'm not putting my eggs into one basket unless someone says, "Yo. Me. You. Exclusive." Or some form of that. Because, I'd rather not be heartbroken and try to pick up the pieces when it's not necessary. Because let's be real. He had a history of trampling on my feelings. So I was dating other guys, and enjoying myself. (not 5 at a time, because I have a memory of a goldfish, and as my Bartender so eloquently put it, "Look a Castle.")
But my favorite part was when he blamed the blog. This blog! Because he couldn't wrap his head around the fact that he couldn't man up to ask about exclusivity. And in the 21st century as a young adult, that's the first conversation you have if you're serious about someone. So since we never had that little chit chat, and we weren't exclusive. I'm having a difficult time ascertaining exactly what I did wrong. It's not like I'm running around having month-here-and-a-month-there-on-and-off-relationships with everyone and their brother, half the people don't get past date one! Actually make that 90% of people. And it's not like I've dated 30 people since March... more realistically you're looking at.. maybe 2 or 3, due to my serious inability to separate the personalities, childhood stories, likes and dislikes of multiple guys that look alike. I have a type sue me.
So what is the moral of the story kids?
(1) If you're seriously into someone, an exclusivity talk is a nice chit chat to have.
(2) You're dumb if you didn't think that this would be on my blog (no but really...)
(3) Text Message Breakup - Brilliant Video.
But readers, please G*d don't feel sorry for me, because afterwards I had the best freaking home cooked meal done up right by my Bartender. So. I actually got the better end of the stick, because I don't have to deal with any more childish Text Message Breakups. And I got a full day of happiness afterwards (including playing with a puppy, who doesn't love puppies). Win. Win.
It was technically a triple win, because my bffle hadn't seen the DVD still in my possession, and I'm not wasting postage and handling on a dick. So she got a DVD.
(Clarification Bartender Paul is not my Bartender. My Bartender is an entirely different person)