Dear reader, I hope I haven't left you in suspense. The story of R, at least for me, has come to an end. After I saw him in the hospital, I continued my practice of sending him one text a day, but for two days he didn't respond. On the third day, he did and the message was that he didn't want to see me anymore. We met at a tumultuous time in his life and he wanted to keep things as simple as possible. He appreciated the help and support, but he was done.
As I've said all along, I had doubts about building an actual romantic-type relationship with R. Our early issues would've been hard to overcome. But I was stunned at his rejection of my friendship--which I'd stated quite clearly was all I expected. Heck, all I wanted was for him to let me help a little. Well, he didn't even want that. I wrote back a long text--and then asked him to at least let me know when he got home. A few days later he sent me a message saying he was home. That's it. I won't contact him again and I guess I won't be hearing from him again either. The end of one of the most bizarre non-relationships of my life. And that's saying something.
Since I got the old heave-ho, I started dating up a storm. I guess having R and his troubles in the back of my mind was making it a little harder to put myself out there. I've been on three dates in 9 days. What the heck is going on with me? Nothing happened to speak of on these dates beyond decent conversation (a pleasant surprise) and a whole lot of nerves on my behalf (typical). The last date was the most remarkable.
I met this fellow for a drink and we talked for maybe an hour. He walked me home...just a few blocks from the bar, and I invited him in. I was full of nerves, per usual, and I didn't really have anything in mind. I liked his looks and his manner, but I wasn't even sure if I wanted to kiss him, though I was a little more sure than with the previous two guys. We had a little push and pull on the kissing, but I thought it might happen eventually. I went to the bathroom and when I got back he was standing at the door waiting to leave. I was quite astonished. And then I was amused. He sort of shifted back and forth on his feet and muttered about not being ready and said he hoped I didn't hate him. Of course not! I let him out and we hugged and he gave me a brief peck on the lips. When he got home he texted me and said he wish he'd stayed. I just...I mean, how is this anything but comical? Will I ever see him again? I have no idea. I'm giving him a wide berth in the meantime. I haven't really learned my lesson about impatience, but with someone this skittish I have to figure that texting him a lot will not help anything.
I talked to a friend about what happened this afternoon and he dubbed my runaway date as "Mr. Confused." Is that a good name? We'll see. At least this time I know it's not me, it's HIM. A thousand times him.
Grateful for: getting back out there.