Nights are the worst. They are the worst because the humming of the fan, in an otherwise quiet room is not enough of a distraction. The dark is no longer dark once your eyes are adjusted.
You only have two choices: close your eyes and try not to think about it, or keep them open and not think about it. Neither of those options keep you from the what ifs, or the why didn’t, or the loneliness.
Who is “her”? That her has been many women…well, “many” is stretching it. But it is the women in your life that somehow slipped away. Some of which, was due to your own fault, or circumstances that were not, or both.
But let us get to the specifics here. The last woman, was the biggest disaster. She was a customer you admired from afar at your old job, and did not have a chance to meet, because of external circumstances, and internal shyness. But somehow, years later, she still falls into your life. The both of you were as excited about this coincidence, due to the fact that she was doing the some thing the entire time. A fact that she first brings up before you even realize who she was.
You both meet up, officially on a first date, although the word “date” does not actually appear between either of your phone texts. You meet at a quaint dive bar, with a rustic feel, and rock and roll attitude. The perfect setting for the both of you. The walls are lined with music paraphernalia. The bartender has tattoos and an apathetic attitude. The venue is small and candle lit. A place you have both visited only a few times in the past, before you knew each other. Somehow, this added to the intimacy of the meeting.
You both sit at the far corner of the bar, so the intimate and private conversations that may happen, can be done so without interruption, say for the occasional order of more drinks.
And guess what? You get on great! Hooray! You both converse and at one point go outside for a smoke, which both of you conveniently do.
And there where more kisses both quick but intimate pecks on the mouth, or deep and well intentioned. At one point you go for a slight embrace, just because you wanted to hold her, which she mistakes for an initiation for another long intimate kiss, and it happens, and you cannot say you are disappointed by this miscommunication.
The night ends with the both of you snug in the only bathroom at the bar, trying to initiate sexual acts, which is awkward because of the space, but also because you both know there are people waiting outside. This makes it more kinky, and you both find the hilarity and almost innocence in the moment. The rest of the night is a blur. You remember her getting into a cab to go home, and you are waiting for your own.
Oh, did I forget to mention she lives with her boyfriend, and is in an open relationship? You overlook this fact, because you just wanted to meet this mysterious girl for so long, and the meeting turned out so well. It was also a fact that you did not look down on.
The next day, you text her, saying you had a great time and would like to meet again. She responds positively. You text her again later that night, but she does not respond, so the fact that she is with the man she lives with and truly loves creeps into your head. A fact you already knew and accepted.
So the next morning you send her another text. A casual one from what you can recall. But she is either with her man, or is at work. No reply. Your loneliness creeps up on you and grabs hold tightly, and even though you know she truly wants to meet you again soon, you begin to get depressed. You already knew this was going to just be a casual friends with benefits, which you wanted. Or thought you did. You open up some brandy and start to drink. You drink more than you should on a Saturday morning. Before you know it, inebriation takes over your rational thinking.
But the drunken ramblings on a Saturday morning make the situation even worse. At this point she does reply. That you are scaring her.
This has never been uttered to you by a woman, in text form or otherwise. You are usually the opposite with the women that are attracted to you, almost meek at times. First dates usually lead to more dates. This causes a panic, exaggerated in your drunken state.
You send more texts, to try and explain, without the sober knowledge that every letter being typed to her makes you seem worse. She finally says stop contacting me. This is straight out a Jon Favreau movie called “Swingers”. When you saw the movie over a decade ago, you thought the character was pathetic. Now you know it can happen in real life, and you are this culprit.
The fact that she is out of your life is no longer the issue. The fact that this extreme event is. The fact that there is a woman out there that thinks you are now a stalker is. The fact that you are “that guy” is. You know you don’t want to contact her again, other than to say you will make it a point to stay out of her life but cannot, is an issue. You want to tell her you would not even make eye contact with her if a run-in were to happen, but cannot is the biggest issue.
This is what you have been trying to not think about as you lie in bed trying to fall asleep, sober.