Off With His Head!!!

I finally got my second date with the girl.  I was pretty excited to finally be seeing her again.  Things had regressed substantially since the first date, and I was looking forward to an opportunity to recover with a smashing second date.  But as soon as the girl arrived, I knew that something was amiss; that there'd be no recovery.  Maybe it was the slight hesitation in her hug or the awkward angle to her smile.  Whatever it was, I knew that although we may be entering the restaurant as dating potentials, we'd be walking out as something much less.

Dinner itself was pretty good.  The casual observer wouldn't have noticed anything wrong with the scene; just a guy and a girl enjoying some good conversation.  But of course she and I both knew that a black cloud hung over our little corner of the restaurant.  I kept waiting for her to deliver the bad news.  Which dish would part the clouds and bring forth the fatal lightning bolt of rejection?  The yakitori?  The agedashi tofu?  As it turned out, it came after we'd each had our fill, she having given me the mercy of a last meal before the execution.  So after the last plate was cleared, her smile melted away and was replaced with a gravity reserved for the somber task at hand.  Before my eyes the girl transformed into the headsman and I into the condemned.  As she was leading me up the gallows, she gave her reasons for why things wouldn't work out--a miscommunication or two on the first date; an awkward text or three the week thereafter; a general unpleasant vibe from me.  I made my last-minute plea for a pardon--"That's not who I really am!  Truly, this is the real me!"  I let her know how I felt about her--the squishy feeling she causes in my chest--and that in trying to pursue her perhaps I pursued too hard.  That when we really, really want something to work out, we tend to overthink and overcomplicate things.  But her decision was firm.  "Off with his head!"  ::chop::  Having done what she came to do, the girl and I parted ways soon thereafter.  Now, despite the melodrama, that wasn't my first time up to the gallows.  I've had girls tell me they weren't interested in all manner of words and mediums (nothing beats the formality of an e-mail rejection!).  This one, though, is gonna sting for a while because deep down I knew that she hadn't rejected me, but a bizarro version me.

Having been out of "the game" for a while, I'd enlisted the help of my friends for advice on how to court this girl.  All were willing to contribute to the cause and all seemed to have a new rule or protocol to add to my playbook--"Make sure you text her soon after the date, but not too soon after!"  "Girls don't like nice guys, so try to be a little bit of a jerk!"  "Talk about other girls you're seeing to make her a little jealous!"  Some of the advice seemed to contradict itself and much of it made me uncomfortable.  "The game," it seemed to me, involved a lot of trickery.  But I put my concerns to the side, for all's fair in love and war!!!  What I didn't realize was that as I continued to indiscriminately add things to my playbook, I became engulfed in a thick shell of artifice and deception.  Getting the moves correct was critical.  And getting the girl even more critical, even if it meant venturing away from True North on my moral compass.  The net result was something distorted; something ugly.  And that is how I presented myself to this girl during our first date and in our brief interactions thereafter.

In hindsight, I can see why it was such an easy decision for the girl to do what she did.  A day or two before the second date, I'd realized how stupid I'd been and shed the shell of deceit.  But by that point, the damage had already been done, and no amount of explaining on my part would convince her otherwise.  "How can I trust what you're saying; that this is the real you?"  A very good question.  And one for which I had no answer (at least no good answers).  Trust is the foundation of any relationship, romantic or otherwise, and when you're pouring quicksand to build that foundation, well, don't be surprised when it all comes crashing down.

I guess the lesson for me here is pretty obvious: just be yourself.  Scrap all the artifice of the playbook.  There's no need to complicate an otherwise complicated situation by trying to project some weird distorted image of yourself at a girl.  Let her see you for who you are.  If she's not interested, she's not interested.  If she is, don't question her terrible judgment and just go with it.  Either way, you're unlikely to regret it as it will have been organic.  Plus nothing beats a clear conscience.  I'm kicking myself that it had to take such a major blunder to drive that simple lesson home, but life seems to work that way.  And, I suppose it's only fair that after bashing all my friends for their genuine concern I acknowledge that this whole time they've also been urging me to just be myself.  Funny how sometimes you can be listening to people but not hearing what they're saying.

So as promised, the Third Act to my little tale. As it turns out, it ends in neither tragedy nor triumph.  In fact, it doesn't really end at all.  After a brief detour down the Dark Path, I've returned unencumbered.  I feel lighter; free.  I feel like me.

Now onward to the next Act!

--KM

"You say, 'Goodbye,' and I say, 'Hello.'"