A few weeks ago I printed a letter from a guy who wondered why the women he dated never wanted to go out with him again. At least that was the gist that I got from his letter. But thanks to the comments section at seattleweekly.com, I now know his question was actually somewhat different. So I’ll try again:
Why can’t women here be truthful and tell you where you stand? It’s pretty lame to make plans then to not carry through on them with no explanation. It’s a total flip-flop. They act so interested and engaged one day, and then a day later they don’t return my call. This is what perplexes me. I am trying to understand this behavior. Why can’t people be straightforward?
People aren’t straightforward because they’re chickenshit and flaky. This is not a woman thing or a Seattle thing, it’s a human-being thing, and it transcends location and gender.
In fact, my friend Gorgeous (not her real name, but it should be) is having the very same problem you are. Great first and/or second dates, talk of mutual attraction, maybe a makeout, promises to go out again, and then—shazam!—they pull the disappearing act. What the hell? And let me assure you, there’s not a thing wrong with her.
If you look through old columns, you’ll see that I’ve had this happen too many times to count. How often have I wrestled naked with some sweet young thang only to get the phone freeze days later? Or been dry-humped at a bar by some hottie who promised me the world and then wouldn’t even come through with a finger-bang? Or been asked for my phone number only to have him call the next day, make a date, and then blow me off two hours later via e-mail?
So you see, it’s not just you. But you demand answers. You want to know why these ladies went bye-bye. I used to think I wanted answers too. Then I started thinking about it: Do I really want to know why these guys disappeared? Does my fragile ego need to hear that my ass was too fat, my breath was too foul, or maybe my pubic grooming wasn’t up to snuff? Maybe he hated my laugh or I smelled too much like his sister.
Then again, maybe he met someone cuter the very next day, or he was so deeply attracted to me that it scared him (this is always my favorite imaginary reason). Whatever his reasons for shining me on, the end result was the same: no boyfriend for this bitch. So really, who cares why he flaked?
Does it really matter that some lame broad thought you didn’t make enough money or you looked too much like Tom Cruise or were too short or too tall? Is that knowledge going to do anything for you? Will you get taller or shorter or richer or whatever else? Probably not. All that knowledge is going to provide you is a kick to your confidence.
I do know that for all my extreme failures, I eventually found a great guy who loves my fat ass, foul breath, and unkempt bush. What if Mr. I-Met-Someone-Cuter hadn’t met someone cuter until we’d been together a couple of years? Then I’d be sitting at home crying into my cocktail, wondering why he bothered in the first place. Sure, getting blown off after a date or two is unpleasant, but having someone announce that they don’t love you and don’t know if they ever did, six years into things, sucks a whole lot harder.
My original advice stands: develop a thick skin and look at every outing not as a potential relationship but as an opportunity for fun. And if you happen upon a hot girl with short hair wearing funny shoes and speaking fluent German…well, you might just have met a keeper.
