Remember Me? It’s Stars…

I got a bad habit of cutting people off. Perhaps it’s a cancer trait. Perhaps it’s genetic. (I have relatives on each side that have stopped speaking to each other for decades.) I can currently list about 10 people that I was extraordinarily close to that I won’t give more than a blank face to because they pissed me off one too many times. I don’t say that to extol it as a virtue. Just to point out one of my many flaws… and lead you into today’s post…

Far and long ago in the Old Country, I encountered a boy, who I finally met Up Top (New York). On our first date, I asked about other chicks, scratch that, other women, and he told me he was a single man who dates. He had nothing serious. Being a single woman who also dates, I thought we were on the same page. We kick it once a week for awhile, share a nice holiday together and a few dinners. And yes, I’m starting to like him.

We have a conversation one day while sitting in a diner sharing waffles after a walk through Battery Park. He starts off, “I like you. I really do.” I keep waiting in the pause for the “but…” And finally I realize there isn’t a pause. It’s a definitive statement that needs no negating. I exhale.

Things are going well. I’ve never been the woman who can juggle multiple dudes and so I don’t try. Between work, the blog, the parties, the friends, and the gym, I don’t have time. I’m dating only him not because we’re exclusive but because I lack the time or energy to date anyone else. Plus, things get messy when I try to juggle. I’m just not that coordinated.

All is right with the world and us until in a roundabout way, I put a name and face to another woman he’s seeing a few states away. (Oddly enough, it’s because of this blog.) Hmmm. I feel a way about it. Not because he wasn’t honest about dating others, but because of her reaction to finding out about me and his reaction to me finding out about them.

She seems to flip out, which if they’re just dating doesn’t make sense to me. And when I ask him, “is this your girl?” I can’t get a clear answer. He wants to know why I should even care (ie, avoiding the question). He and I are he and I, he says. And that’s just some bullshit (also, I’ve heard and put up with that one before).

If he won’t give me a straight answer, I tell him I’m done. He seems baffled. “What? We can’t be friends?” Fuck friends. I want an answer. When I press him again, he literally gets up and walks out the restaurant. I laugh. Because what else can I do? Go after him?

A couple days later, I get a phone call. It’s him. I answer out of curiousity (this is the cause of a lot of life’s drama). He wants to be totally honest. (And because I tell my stories and not others, I’ll leave out most of the details). I don’t want to talk. I mean someone walks out on you (what is it with me, guys, and this shit?), there’s really not much to say after. He’s already been added to my growing ‘Dead to Me’ list. He convinces me that what he says will be worth the listen. He wants to confess and here goes nothing:

He has a few women he deals with. There’s me in New York, another on the East Coast, a couple more in two Southern states. He reasons that I know how often he travels (at the time, not often), so I should know where he spends his time and who he’s into.

This is officially the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard. In his pageant of women, I am Miss New York. I tell him as much and he digs himself deeper trying to explain. The woman I found about? A friend. Their relationship is “light.” Now, one of the chicks in the south? Well their relationship is “heavy.” She’s been around a long time and sometimes there are tears and she’s met his family.

Why the hell he tells me this, I don’t know. But now I want to shoot Stars. I feel like a fool. Like I thought I was cool with a guy who’s dating freely, or “lightly” as he says, but rarely is dating just dating. You hang out with a person often enough and long enough, you catch some sort of feelings if you just remotely like them. And that’s not just a woman-thing. Also, it’s not just me who can’t juggle. (Apparently he can’t either if the women are finding out about each other.) A lot of people try anyway, which leads to asinine conversations like this.

I pledge that in the future, I only will date people who recognize the limits of their coordination.


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