After a break and more episodes, I got attracted to
him for another while. I put the makeout mix back on and went all in. I feel
guilty about that since I think I knew it wasn’t going to work out, but it felt
good to give in to my body’s leadership. I took him to bed for a bit, but after
we both came, I just wanted him to be gone. (If a man wrote that sentence I’d
think he was garbage. Sometimes I am a toxic bachelor.)
Not knowing how I would get him out of my apartment in
the triggered early part of the visit, I’d offered him a ride home, 38 minutes
according to Maps. (Okay, look. Cars are destructive and selfish and
apocalyptic, but I really want my next guy to have a car. Or just live a few
blocks away like Gilmore Guy did.) I was exhausted, not in the blissful, fizzy,
satisfied way. I wished I was alone in the car, felt like it was falling apart
under the weight of my sad heart.
(A big change since this blog first started: I used to
not mind driving to the suburbs! I even kind of enjoyed it because it was
always easy to park! Now I just get the sick, soul-rotten feeling of driving a
car with ALL of the liberal bumper stickers through Trump territory. Another Twilight Zone-but-not-in-the-fun-way
sensation.)
Outwardly, I stayed cheerfully in reference mode with
him—reciting the opening disclaimers from My
Brother, My Brother and Me for no reason, singing beautifully along with Wonderwall on my Oasis-heavy Happy
Spring Mix.
“Said maybaaaaaaaay…you’re gonna be the one that saves
maaaaaaaay…”
I’m not sure why it was such a heartbreaking moment,
but the beauty of our singing voices together juxtaposed with the ugly sadness
in my heart just made me wonder how anybody dates anyone ever.
After I dropped him off on an ominous, anonymous,
winding street, my heart felt lighter. I thought maybe (maybaaaaaaaay) I should
wait until morning to see if I still felt bad about him. But I knew what I
knew, and as I drove along I composed in my head a break-off text and listed
all the ways I needed to block him. At a stoplight, even thought it was almost
midnight, I texted Sweetie to see if it was too late to call. I’m so, so
grateful to have a loyal and very-judgmental-of-men best friend to call in the
middle of the night.