Next time, go easy on the Awesome.

It was only a matter of time, I suppose, before something truly bloggable happened again. And boy golly is it a doozy.

It all started a few weeks ago – the first day I was home with the girls on our extended staycation, in fact. I had “met” a boy, we had been emailing, and on this particular Wednesday at the beginning of August, we started texting. By the end of the day, we were quite smitten. We had so many things in common: he had many friends from Boston; we had similar eclectic tastes in music; we were addicted to the same TV shows; he declared the Pats his second favorite football team, and when I jokingly (but not really) warned him his first favorite better not be the Jets…or the Giants…or the Yankees, he sent me a pic of his tattoo of the Red Sox “B” he had on his arm. “Nope,” he wrote, “Can’t say I’m a big Yankees fan.” If that wasn’t enough to make me dizzy in “like”, there was the fact that he was A Reader. Things were looking very promising, indeed.

And so, after a few days of texting, we decided to go out on a date the next weekend when the girls were at their dad’s and I was free.

That week I drove my friends a little nuts. I’ve been on quite a few first dates this past year, but none of them made me fall so much in “like” so soon, or gave me what my friend Megan calls “boy stomach”, which makes it rather hard to eat from all the nerves and excitement. I couldn’t wait. True, The Guy liked to text a lot – all day, every day, it seemed. But that was probably because it was new! and exciting! And he certainly wasn’t playing it cool – instead of pulling whatever the guy equivalent is for gushing to his girlfriends, he was gushing to me about how excited he was and how much trouble we were in. That might have been when my spidey senses first started tingling in the back of my head. And then there was the thing on Thursday, the day before we were supposed to meet: don’t wear anything to cute, unless I wanted to make him fall in love with me, he said. Uhh… ruh-roh, Rorge. The “L” word. Kidding, yes. Mostly? Uh, I don’t know. But we hadn’t even been on a first date. And so now there was a new plan: go on the date, have fun, and if I still wanted to see him maybe talk about taking things slowly.

I love plans. Er…well, I like them.

Friday night! Date night! I couldn’t eat, I couldn’t focus – I was a cute, pathetic mess. In real life. Corrie and John gave me a curfew, Kim and I played cyber-detectives to see what else we could learn, and my friends joked about texting me throughout the evening to make sure he hadn’t killed me or anything. Which I might have shared with him half-way through the date, because what good are check-ins and safeguards if the possible-psycho doesn’t know we’re on to him? And we laughed, because, really, it was such a great first date. I had such a good time! We had so many things to talk about, he was cute, there was chemistry, and both of us knew the obscure songs the band played when they started playing halfway through our 7-hour date. Yes. Seven hours. I told you it was going really well.

Well, at least it was until I got home. I made my curfew, let everyone know I was home and not dead, and then The Guy texted me to ask why I had cooled off when he walked me to my car and we were, erm, talking. Why during the date I had been all for dating, and then outside I had seemed unenthusiastic about seeing him the next day. Or meeting his friends and family on Sunday. The next day it was more of the same – why didn’t I want to plan out our future? The immediate future, if not the rest of our lives? I spent four hours – FOUR HOURS – texting back and forth, figuring out what the heck was going on, and convincing myself he was just happy to have found someone with whom he really clicked. Because clinginess and neediness aside? This Guy was amazing.

I was even more convinced that I was overreacting on Sunday when things seemed perfectly normal. Monday, too, was a good day – I hadn’t told him that it was my birthday because, hello – birthdays at the very beginning of relationships are nothing but awkward. Instead we spent the afternoon talking music and going through the playlist of a CD I was making to listen to in the car. All was good – until he “jokingly” quoted the lyrics to a song I had mentioned.

Crazy girl, don’t you know that I… Nope not gonna say it. Not yet, probably too soon.

And there it was again – even if he was joking, all of these references to being in love, his neediness for an instant relationship, the way he ignored and just flat-out didn’t understand my insistence on taking things slow – it was not working for me. You know, maybe because we had been on ONE DATE.

I ignored his texts and by dinnertime he was asking if he had scared me off. After I put the girls to bed and could concentrate without 50 gazillion interruptions, I finally texted The Guy back and explained that he had freaked me out a bit, and that we seemed to want very different things from a relationship at this point – which was fine! but we were obviously on different pages. He responded with several texts, apologetic, then whiny, and all very needy. I apologized that things hadn’t worked out, assured him that he was amazing, and said goodbye.

And then he flipped his shit.

Between 9 p.m. and 11:30 p.m., he sent more than 30 texts, that quickly went from apologizing and pleading to telling me to eff off, that he had so many better options, that I was a loser and…certain other choice phrases. They weren’t explicitly threatening, so I didn’t want to call the cops. But I was shaken. I hadn’t told him where I lived, but how hard is it to find online? Even with the house alarm set and my ringer shut offf, I didn’t sleep at all.

The next morning when I checked my phone, I found more messages sent at 1:30 a.m. – lovely, but that wasn’t the best part. Just after I got to work, I got a text from him wishing me a good day. And then apologizing for the night before and asking me to reconsider going out Wednesday night like we had planned.

Yeah. I was still scared out of my mind, and I had no idea how he thought I could forget about any of the things he had said. After another text made it clear he wasn’t going to just get it out of his system, I replied simply that his texts had scared me, and to please not contact me again. When that didn’t work, I went through the rather laborious process of blocking his number.


Not exactly the fireworks I had in mind for 34. In fact, when I was giving Corrie the lowdown, she joked that I should probably think about setting a curfew on my birthdays: last year was the disastrous birthday dinner that ended my relationship with Mike, and this year there was El Creepo. I’ll give it some thought. But I’m thinking maybe we just need a girls’ trip to a winery and go a different route entirely.

Because there’s no way me and a winery can get in trouble. Right?


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3 Responses to “Next time, go easy on the Awesome.”

  1. Kathy Says:

    I’ll go to a winery with you to celebrate 35 – pinky promise we won’t get into any trouble at all. 😉

  2. Agent Torklepants Says:

    zomg your first question for next time HAs to be “Do you read…chapter books?”=]

  3. Gayle Says:

    Yikes! That is scary!

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