in the twisted opera that is my non-relationship with B-, i think we have approached the final aria. the hero (that would be me) comes onstage too late to save poor butterfly (that would be B-), in his death throes, having chopped up his own guts after deciding, 'i can't meet your friends.'
the past few weeks have seen poor B- calling while i stalled, trying to figure out just what it is i wanted to do with him. i didn't want things to be the way they were. but i didn't know, couldn't see, how things were going to be different. so i stalled.
but still he called.
he called while i was at roomie's corporate event at navy pier.
he called when i was at a party for pride weekend.
he called when i was in michigan.
he called when i was at work.
(were his calls about getting together for the future? no, they were about getting together that night. please.)
so yesterday, when i call him (i have a 25% return rate with him) from the office i still have no idea, really, why i'm doing so. we chat awkwardly. i invite him to catch the world cup final with me and some friends on sunday afternoon. he says, 'right, that friendship thing.' and then says no - he's not into it, he leaves his sundays to prep for work the next day. ok. i can understand that. so i leave it. i offer to call later, but i'm still stumped what i'm going to be calling for.
the curtain is just hovering over the stage, folks.
i wake up this morning (er, afternoon) to an email from B- that says 'it seems you want me to perform certain social feats before we can hang out together alone. it feels like penalty kicks before the end of a game. good thing i'm bowing out before you make me go shoe shopping with you.'
butterfly has just inserted the knife and has hit the boards. bastard! i KNEW he'd do this!
my return email said 'i don't want you to perform anything. it would have been nice if we could have existed outside the bedroom. take care.'
enjoy all that alone time, dude.
(and note to self: when a guy gets dumped, he stays dumped. erase his phone number, block his email. waste of my fucking time.
yes, those three minutes i actually gave some thought to B- - i can't get those back now, can i? bastard!)
13 comments:
Monsieur Butterfly is so high drama! It's not like you asked him to fly across the country to attend a family wedding. "Come hang out" is too, too much for him? Sheesh.
apparently, anything more than taking my clothes off is just on the outside of enough.
i honestly tried to give him the benefit of the doubt; i thought, you know, maybe i didn't give him enough of a chance. maybe i underestimated him and he really has . but no.
i totally should have stuck with my instinct that all he wanted was booty potato (which was DEAD ON) and ignored his eyore ass.
Not that it's any of my business, but....
Don't half-drop a guy. Our brains simply cannot handle complexity as well as yours can, and we generally don't get the subtle hints (or if we do we choose to ignore them because, well, hope springs eternal).
In my younger, stupider days I was dumped by a girl (she was 15, I was 16, so don't think I'm being sexist here) who basically just stopped being available. Sort of. But if I asked her "Does this mean we're breaking up?" the answer was "Oh, no, I still love you" and etc. Apparently she wanted the breakup to be my responsibility. Or something. Who knows what she wanted, other than to be rid of me? In any event, I responded very badly to this, and it was very painful, and so I have a little bit of sympathy for B-.
Because you never very clearly said "No", "Yes" is still a possibility, and he will probably just keep trying. So just say no, and stick with no. He may not like it, but at least he'll know where he stands.
do i have to say no since he said no first and i was agreeing with him?
(in my head when he writes 'i'm bowing out' it means 'see ya!' and my 'take care' means 'don't let the door smack you in the ass on your way out!')
and i agree with you. halfway measures don't do anyone good.
Update: B- actually called today while i was at work. his voicemail said, 'uh, i think you may have gotten the wrong idea. i didn't mean that i didn't want to get to know you and i hope you'll still want to talk with me...'
it's at this point in his message that i shut off my phone and scream while at my career station.
Yah, Ding,
I'm pretty sure I was the one to call 'booty potato.'
Regardless, I think you enjoy the drama.
1) You are an English major.
2) You are Pinay.
3) You are from LA.
You enjoy the drama.
If I didn't know better, i'd say you also enjoy teasing a man who wants the booty potato SOOOO BAAAAD.
tease? noooo.
be curious to see how far he'll take this? maybe.
all desire to be with B- is gone. i just haven't gotten around to tell him yet.
work's been a bitch and, frankly, more important so i'll get to him when i get to him.
Let me get this straight, you're not teasing him, but maybe you're curious to see how far he'll take his?
Sweetheart, that's called teasing.
Booty potato, booty po-tah-to.
no no! i refuse to be called a tease.
my curiosity, as a state of mind, is not teasing, which is an action or a series of actions performed with an end to titillate or provoke a reaction.
my curiosity just stands there, alone, like a rock. it's just... Curiosity. it's not asking for a response, not hoping for one - it just Is. it is independent of whatever course of action B- decides to take.
if anything, B- is the tease - always holding out the promise of normality but never really delivering on that promise. he sends messages saying NO, then others saying YES, then more saying NO, then still others wondering why i'm not responding.
who's the tease? not the person just standing there, not doing anything.
but, clearly, the last communique from B-'s bat cave puts whatever action to be taken in my court. so, i have to prioritize it and the priority is Low.
so, again, he'll have to wait. it's not teasing.
it's prioritizing.
t-zing.
pry
or
it
eye
zing
it's only prioritizing if you don't enjoy watching him beg for it.
and obviously, you do enjoy watching him beg for it.
you got a string and you walking him like a helium balloon.
play on, playa.
i'm too soft and cuddly to be a playa.
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