It’s definitely not a good sign when you end up literally crying on a date.
Not all out sobbing, mind you, but teary eyes, blinking, red cheeks, etc.
I had myself convinced that I was embarking on a major depressive episode and should get screened by a doctor right away.
But as soon as I got home and climbed in bed with my favorite long-canceled TV drama, I felt so much better. And I realized that the reason I didn’t feel connected to this guy, whom I’d seen three times in the past week, wasn’t because I was depressed.
It was because he kept pushing me for a connection I didn’t feel.
Honestly, I should have gotten up and left when, a half hour into our first meeting, he tried to convince me to go back to his place for “just some light making out.” But he was cute, with amazing eyes, and we had a lot in common – books, TV shows, bands.
And I hadn’t been out with someone I genuinely thought was cute in quite a while. So I tried to convince myself that it didn’t matter that he was pushing to get physical, or that he kept interrupting me (all men seem to do this), or that his track record with women and jobs was abysmal.
He was cute! And he lived close by.
But at dinner he tried to press me into going back to his place to drink. “I’ll get you an Uber home,” he said. And when I tried to feel some kind of connection to this guy, and ended up with nothing, I teared up.
When we sat on the beach at sunset, he said, “I had pictured us kissing at this point,” all I could picture was getting the hell out of there.
I told him that I needed time to heal. I apologized for thinking I was ready for a relationship when I clearly was not. When he dropped me off at my front door, he didn’t even wait to see that I was safely inside before peeling away.
And slowly, I realized the truth. I am ready for a relationship. Just not with him.
When the right guy comes along, I’ll be here. Until then, I’m accepting no substitutions.
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