A few years ago I put myself in a very weird
situation. It all started one night when I was out drinking with the guys and a tall, thin blond man with an English accent approached me. I was
polite with him but not interested because a) I was busy with my friends and b)
tall and skinny and blond is not my type. After I gave him the cold shoulder he
started chatting up one of my guy friends (I didn’t really notice because it
was a standing bar and everyone was milling around) and when last call came and
we headed back to a girlfriend’s place, the blond tagged along. The group
chilled all night and I ended up chatting with him a
bit. At that hour, he seemed cute and interesting, and when he asked my number,
I gave it to him (partly because I was into it, but mostly because at that
stage of my life I was terrible at saying no to any man who asked for it –
thankfully, I’m better about that now). When I had to leave and he made to
leave at the same time, my girlfriend pulled me aside. “Do you like this guy?”
she asked. I told her I didn’t and she rushed me out before the guy could
follow and try and get me back to his place.
He went back to England and we texted back and
forth and Skyped a few times. Neither of us seemed that interested in making
things happen. It’s hard for me to fall in love long-distance – I feel like I
need to see, hear and feel a lot of interest coming from a man before I’m
engaged. But a few months after I had first met him he mentioned he was coming
back to Toronto on business, and he suggested we see each other. It seemed like
a good idea but the timing was bad for me – I was scheduled for three straight
12-hour waitressing shifts (11 AM-11 PM) on the weekend he was coming. I told
him I would try to see him, but deep down I knew I wasn’t going to put in much
effort. Once he got to town he texted me several times. I felt bad and agreed
to meet him after work. I was very tired and felt sticky and yucky from a long
day in the restaurant, but we chatted for an hour or two and then I went home.
The next day he again met me after work. This time we went out drinking until
last call and then I went back to his hotel and talked some more. He was a
complete gentleman – he didn’t even try to kiss me. I crashed on his bed for an
hour and then I went home to clean up and get ready for work. He gave me a
little peck on the cheek and headed back to England.
After that I became interested in him, despite
(or maybe because of) the lack of physical affection between us. I found his
accent charming and he seemed mature and kind. He was a couple of years older
than me (I was late twenties at the time and he must have been about 31) and he
seemed ready to start a family. After he went back to England we started
Skyping almost every day. I dreamt about him and suddenly we were talking about
moving in together and getting serious. We decided that I would go to London to
meet his family and then he would come back to Toronto for two weeks. We wanted
to try out living together and if it worked out our plan was to move to New
York together. I even stopped talking to other guys and told people that we
were officially dating. Keep in mind that this
was before we’d ever done anything physical. My friends thought that was
kind of weird, but I didn’t see it as a red flag. It just seemed like the
opportunity hadn’t really come up. But as soon as I booked the time off work
for my London trip, reality hit. I realized that this whole thing was totally
insane. I told him to cancel the flights. I didn’t want to do it anymore. He
tried to talk me down and eventually we agreed that he would come to see me in
Toronto and we would see if there was anything left between us. I was reluctant
at first but he told me any number of reasons why it made sense and eventually
I agreed that he could come to Toronto and stay at my place for a week. My
friends told me that drawing this out was crazy, but I wanted to do it. I’ve
always wanted that fantasy love story, that Prince Charming, and I still held
out some hope that this man was the one.
But a week before the blond came an ex-boyfriend
from LA I had not seen in more than 3 years showed up in Toronto. I had been
madly in love with this ex-boyfriend and seeing him brought out all my old
emotions. I threw myself at him and yet again, as he had so many times before,
he shot me down. (I found out later that he had a wife in the States with whom
he had an on-again, off-again relationship – I could never have been his main
squeeze.) I was heartbroken. I had never told someone I loved them and not had it reciprocated. I knew the blond was coming but I knew that I could never
love him as much as I loved my ex from LA, and I didn’t want to break his heart
the way that my ex had broken mine.
Right away when I picked blond boy up from the airport, I
knew we didn’t click. He came back to my place and slept on the
pull-out couch. The next night we had a good time in town with my
friends, but when we got back to the apartment a little tipsy, things exploded.
I told him I wanted him to stay on the couch again but he didn’t like that. We
had a huge argument and finally I relented and let him sleep on my bed, but we
weren’t intimate. We had booked a cottage for the following day and by the time
we woke up the following morning, I knew I didn’t want to do it. He and I
fought for a few hours. He asked me what had changed since we had first made
the plans. I’d been dodging the question for hours but finally I admitted what
had happened with my ex. We cancelled the cottage and I told him he had to
leave. He insisted on staying and trying to work things out between us.
“Listen,” I said. “Figure out if you’re going to
go on to New York City, or catch a flight back to London. You can’t stay here!”
My anger was rising at this point because things had
turned really sour and I just wanted it to be over. I retreated to my bedroom
for a nap while he figured things out, but as I listened for the sounds of him
packing up I heard nothing but silence. I came out of the bedroom to find him
curled up in the fetal position on the couch. I thought, Oh my God, this guy looks like a child. He’s so feminine. What was I
thinking? His arms and legs were almost as skinny as mine, and I’m
incredibly thin.
“What are you doing?” I blurted out. “You need to
get the fuck out of here, so figure out what you’re doing!” He persisted,
telling me he still wanted to work things out. I told him to please just leave
and asked him how he could even want to stick around in such an awkward
situation. “If I were you, I’d just leave.”
Finally he booked a flight home. After he was
gone, I felt free but so sad. It felt like my ideals of love had slipped away
twice in two weeks. After the blond got back to England he continued to text
me. Some messages were sweet and some were mean. He couldn’t accept that there had
been nothing between us. I deleted him from Facebook and Whatsapp. One day he
texted me a picture of a girl in her underwear in a hotel room. I told him he
was being fucking weird and if he didn’t stop I would go so far as to block his
number. He said it was a message
intended for another girl and he didn’t mean to send it to me, which I didn’t
buy. After a few more ignored texts, the blond Englishman left my life for
good.
I tell this story because it is a release for me
personally but also as a warning to girls and women to be careful what you fall
for. If it doesn’t feel right, don’t do it. Some people seem great as an idea
but the reality never measures up to the fantasy. Good luck in all your
relationships!
-Sarah
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