currylove

Posts Tagged ‘do you really mean what you’re saying?

So I finally heard from him on Wednesday with a text saying he’d been busy studying for a test (he’s in a master’s program). I responded on Thursday, because this is how it is now. 

No response back from him yet, and I don’t expect there to be. He got what he wanted. 

This one sucks because as much as I didn’t want to admit It, I kinda liked him. I haven’t liked anyone in a long time and it was fun to meet someone who seemed nice and normal.

I didn’t ask him to say things like “I like spending whatever time I can with you” or joke (I think he was joking) about planning  a beach trip. I guess in some ways those should have been flags because it was so weirdly nice and future-based.  But it was never strange or out of the blue,  it fit into our conversations. 

I can usually spot douches quickly but I clearly missed him.  But I wasn’t enamored with his words. I know better than that.  I was impressed with his actions. When we had our first date,  I offered to contribute to the check. His exact words were “No way. I want to see you again.” He didn’t let me pay for anything and we didn’t go to cheap places.  If all he wanted was sex, he could’ve got that from anyone else for much cheaper. 

And the worst part is the irony of all of this.  I would tease him about being so nice and tell him it’s weird… turned out he was only nice trying to get laid. Having sex allowed his inner asshole to shine. AND if he’d just been up front that he just wanted to get laid,  I would’ve been on the same page. That would have been fine with me! 

I don’t know if I’ll ever figure this one out. I’m mad at myself for being so upset about it… But I feel used, stupid, fat, and ugly. And I don’t know how to make these feelings and thoughts go away.  

Let’s see… since the last post, things have gone nowhere with the last guy. He didn’t try to contact me much over the holidays and I decided to sit back and see what happens. 

Nothing. Nothing happened. 

I don’t care but the problem now is we still haven’t wrapped things up.  I tried to call him this past week, and he texted to say he was at work. I decided again to wait and see if he’d call me back.  

Still waiting. 

Meanwhile I went on a cruise with a friend at the beginning of the year. Cruises aren’t my favorite but we had a blast.  I also almost had a sugar daddy! He was on the cruise with his children  (21 and 16) after a divorce, and clearly took a liking to yours truly.  But I couldn’t even get past his ogling to consider anything else. Maybe the longer he’s single, the more he’ll realize you can’t just stare creepily at women. 

I also was strongly pursued by a very cute married guy. Why are the cute ones always already married? I made sure he stayed faithful but it blows my mind that he even hit on me while he was on the cruise WITH his wife. WTF.

And then there’s the young guy I’ve been seeing. We’ve had 3 really fun dates so far. But he’s 29. TWENTY-NINE. That’s a 10 year difference.  I’m officially a cougar. Not sure how I feel about that. 

But he’s interesting to me, and smart, and weirdly fucking nice.  And I cannot figure out if he’s really this nice,  or it’s just a game?   If it’s a game then he got what I would assume he wanted on our last date.  We had fabulous sex. I mean, the boy’s 29. He can go alllllllllll night.  

But now it’s the “is he still interested? ” part of the game. We’ve texted a bit since hooking up; he was out of town this weekend so we haven’t made plans to see each other again yet. I hope we do. 

But for now… I wait. 

When British and I first started our ill-fated adventure in cross-continent relationships, one of the things he would often tell me was “You are so pretty.” And I lapped it up like a little puppy.  Seriously, who doesn’t want to hear that, especially when it’s softly said in an amazing accent??  I sure as fuck did.

But little did I know it’s just the British equivalent of the American frat-boy-ism: “You’re sooooo hot!!!”  Which means nothing, actually. It’s just a segue to “Wanna come back to my place??”   Sigh.

I didn’t realize it till this trip though. The first night we met the British military boys, their commander kept telling me how much he liked my “pretty face.” Sweet, and again, I have no problem receiving attention, so I totally bought into it.

Then the next night, we went to another pub in Leicester Square. I was waiting for my drink and the bartender (tall and cute, just my type!) came over and asked for my ID. Ok, isn’t the drinking age in the UK like 16 or something? There was no way he needed to ID me. But I handed it over, and he looked at my year of birth and this look of utter surprise came over his face and he says: “Wow. You look great!”

Um, thanks!?  I was pretty offended. Can I just get a damn drink? I don’t need to be reminded I’m old as dirt. His take was that I should be flattered he needed to see it. Hmph.

Anyway, he continued to chat, asked what I was doing there, how long I was in town, etc and finally after making my drink (hello, the ONLY thing I wanted) he leaned over and whispered, “You are so very pretty.”

Which then threw me off guard – and it was my turn to look surprised because it was so random, and yes, SUPER sweet, but that’s also when the light bulb went off. Do they even mean it, or is it just a numbers game? Like if they say that to 100 women, 5 will be flattered enough to do something?  I can’t figure out if the boys there actually do think I’m attractive and are being honest and I should move to take advantage of it!?!?!??? OR is it just a line?

(Also, did I get any free drinks out of this? NO. So totally useless as far as I was concerned, even if he did mean it. )

The rest of the night was spent with these Italian guys we met at the bar – they were hilarious! Two spoke English perfectly fine, but the third didn’t. So how is it that he spoke with his hands, on our bodies? It’s like he got away with free grabs just because he was unable to speak the language… not a bad play, actually.

Some highlights from the night:

Me and C: “Hey, look at that Italian place, Bella Italia, would you want to eat there? ”
Them: “No-a! Would you-a eat-a in a place-a called Beautiful USA? Because-a all that meanz-a is Beautiful Italia. It’s-a dumb-a.”

Them (talking about having two taps instead of one in the bathroom sink): “Why are there-a two faucets? You either burn-a your hand-a or you freeze-a your hand-a! It’s-a impossible to get it right-a!!”

Them: “We love-a going to the pubs-and-a-clubs-a!”

Them: “We are staying with a divorcee. He likes to talk-a. He is lonely and tries to talk-a to us-a every day. We try-a to avoid him.”

Them (while we’re eating pizza): “It’s ok-ah. For pizza not in Italy, it will do-a. We don’t-a use ketchup on our pizzas like you do-a.”

Them (after I spilled water on myself at dinner): “That’s-a what you get-a for drinking that poison-a!”

It was a great night overall. I definitely still have a thing for cute boys with accents… just need to figure out how to make that work in my life here. Or you know, marry this guy and have it all (or this guy, both are pretty amazing in their abilities)…

Actually…without the accent, he’d just be American. And wearing a funny hat.


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