things with sharp edges

My friend Lala has been experimenting with online dating. Something I’ve never done, but I have no problem with. Actually, I know of four separate couples who met online and got married. One of them is a family member, one a best friend, one is a client and one used to be my waxer. Sidenote: My waxer and her fella relocated to Oregon (!), and she can’t find work there. Because apparently, women in Oregon are not into hair removal. Ha.

Anyway, the main reason I’ve avoided online dating is because I don’t really know what I want. And I hate to drag a bunch of other people into “all that.” But generally speaking, I think its fine.

We were out the other night and Lala was relating some funny-ass (and not so funny) online dating stories to your faithful blogger, and I’ll get to some of them eventually, in other blog posts. But for now…

“This is what you should be writing about, Lisa.” A phrase that I hear often and always makes me sit up and take notice. “What about the men who show endless interest, email me constantly and then when I email back, or consent to go out with them, I never hear from them again! What’s that about?”

What’s that about, indeed?

First off, Lala is pretty and charming. Talented, too. So none of this “she’s a hardship case” nonsense. It really is a puzzler. We tried to get to the bottom of the mystery, asking helpful questions like “Did you spill anything on him? Pick your nose? Talk about hot guys with BMWs?” No, no and no. Nothing untoward happened on any of the dates, and the emails were just responding back to the sender in a playful manner.

Men that disappear are a phenomenon that occurs outside of online dating- it happens all the time in any form of the mating ritual. An anomaly from what we’re used to. But it does happen. In fact, it recently happened to me.

I met someone, a special person, and we talked several times a day for months. He lives out of town so this was all over email. Definitely, he has some baggage. Definitely, he’s a red flag. Brilliant, funny and very conflicted- what’s not to like?

One day it occurred to me that I hadn’t heard from him in a while. I didn’t think much about it at first. We’re both self employed and he especially has a lot of responsibilities. But, after a while, I started to wonder. Had I done something wrong? Did I tell one of my off-color jokes and it missed the mark? Did my penchant for eating meals over the sink or letting the laundry pile up for days somehow make itself known online? I don’t know. So finally, I asked. A tentative email that hinted at my confusion- and my sadness.

I’m just busy, he responded. You didn’t do anything wrong. Whew. Thank goodness. Everything would have been fine except, except… I never really heard from him again after that. I would like to think; since I asked him straight out, that I got an honest response. I’d like to think that what he said was true, but actions speak louder than words.

What I told Lala, and this is a hard thing to hear (she didn’t like it at all), is that maybe, just maybe, after all the over-analyzing and presupposing maybe it just comes to this: we are just not as adorable as we think we are. These men are just not that into us.

That’s the one thing that none of us wants to admit, right? We’ll accept busy schedules, hurricanes, medical emergencies and car accidents as a reason not to call (or email). But facing up to the fact that someone just doesn’t really care about you is really hard to accept. It hurts. A lot.

When you lose a friend or a potential love interest, you have a couple of choices. You can keep trying to help (assuming something is wrong), trying to apologize (assuming all of the blame), or, you can move on. That’s what I’m doing.

I’m moving as quietly out of his life as I entered, never to return. I think it’s for the best. Even though it’s hard. Incomprehensible, really. But I think a little hurting now is better than prolonging the pain, making myself miserable, and probably just annoying him further. It’s for the best.

At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.