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  • Writer's pictureRobin WillowMoon

Why the F&ck Are you Crying?

After the ceremonial burning of my sofa post Naked Hobbit Guy, and armed with my new bras and pedicure, I accepted a date with a new kind of guy for me. He was an engineer. Typically I don’t do well with linear thinkers being that I tend to be more on the creative side of things, but I thought what the hell, at this point I need to try something new. He was very nice, invited me to dinner a few times, bought me little gifts when we met for dinner, and was pleasant company. Now being a typical engineer, the little gifts were from the promotional shop where he worked- so it was a corporate calendar, a corporate card holder, a corporate pen, well you get the idea, but hey he tried. I will never hold that against him, it was the thought after all.

I always trust signs when I see them. One night we went to dinner, and as we were ordering some wine to start, the waitress asked us if it was separate checks. Hmmmmm, what had she picked up on? After dinner we took a walk on the beach. He was telling me how he was planning a trip to St. Augustine the following weekend. I told him I had been there often and was telling him some of my favorite places to visit. He asked –and keep that fact in mind – he asked if I would like to join him. I felt it was a little soon to travel together, but I thought, why not.

He booked us a beautiful suite at a Bed and Breakfast. When we arrived there were roses and chocolates in the room. Confused, I asked if this was to be a romantic weekend. He said he wasn't sure yet.....What? I challenged him as we walked around to let chance lead us were we should go. He was used to planning out everything, being an engineer, so I applauded his effort when he allowed the day to just unfold. As we walked back to our room that night, we wandered down a side street and meet a wonderful old gentleman who was a writer and a painter. He invited us into his gallery and we talked for hours over some drinks.

When we arrived back to our room, he said he was tired, and had drunk too much wine, so we just fell asleep. That was OK by me, as I was still not ready to move things to the next level. The next morning however, he woke me up by kissing me. I can’t say that I didn’t enjoy that, but minute or so into it, he began to cry uncontrollably. I asked him what was wrong, and he said he couldn’t talk about it. I went down to the dining room to get us some coffee, and when I got back he was still crying. To this day I don’t know what over, but needless to say it put a damper on the rest of the day. Thank God we were only there for one night. We drove back home in an awkward silence.

I woke up the next morning to this email – I will paraphrase –

“Willow, I really enjoyed the weakened with you. (What???) You showed me how to loosen up and just let life happen. I would like to be your friend, because I think you can teach me so much. The fact of the matter is, when we met for dinner the Friday before we took this trip, I was going to tell you that we shouldn’t see each other anymore. (Remember the waitress’s comment about separate checks?) In fact, I really had no intentions of taking you on this trip with me, but when you said you knew so much about it, I kind of felt funny if I had not invited you. Bla, Bla, Bla….”

I responded with, no where during the conversation about St. Augustine did I even hint that I wanted to go with you. I don’t understand, if you didn’t want me to go with you, why did you ask me? (At this point between the crying and being made to feel like I crashed his weekend get-a-way, I was pretty much done. So I told him I really didn’t want to be his friend, and that I didn’t really want to see him again. About 30 minutes later he showed up at my apartment with flowers, again asking me to teach him how to let go and flow. I told him he was out of his mind, gave him back his bag of corporate gifts, and told him to leave.

Thus ended my soiree into online dating. They say it’s best to meet someone through friends anyway, so that is just how I met my third ex-husband, “The Narcissist Masshole.” (Mike+Asshole = Masshole) I don't speak to those friends anymore! LOLOL

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