ExposedNYC

For future reference, never schedule a first date on Friday the 13th. For the first time in as long as I can remember, I was stood up. And we’re not talking sitting in a restaurant waiting for him to show up. I mean the last thing I heard from Cash on Thursday afternoon was him calling me “sweetie” and talking about how excited he was to see me on Friday night. And then nothing. No phone call, no message, nothing.

When faced with the option of picturing him dead in a ditch somewhere, or being pissed off that he was so inconsiderate, I chose the second option. When it became apparent that it was way too late for a “Sorry, I was working really late” excuse, or anything of the sort, I resigned to putting on sweatpants, ordering in sushi, and popping in season two of Grey’s Anatomy on DVD. That is, of course, after I called all of my girl friends who I’d been gushing to about this guy to update them about how wrong I had been.

The hardest part for me was to convince myself that I hadn’t done anything to deserve this. The lack of knowing what went wrong is torture, and condemned me to sitting at home wondering if it was the way I looked, something I said, if he had met someone else who blew his mind in the last day, and all kinds of other wild theories.

As fate would have it, I also got a message from an occasional “friend with benefits” inviting me to come over and spend the night after he got off of work that night. Now, normally, that should have made me feel attractive and desired, but having already settled into moping mode, all I could think was how much of an effort it would be to get up, make sure I had shaved legs, get to his apartment, and deal with being exhausted at work the next morning. I turned down the offer.

So why did one guy, who I had never even had a real first date with, have such an effect on me? Was it because there was such an extended period of anticipation leading up to it? Was it because, until the few days before when he had given me a ride home, I was questioning whether I even remembered what he looked like? Or was it just because I had finally decided to open up to this guy and felt shut down before I even got the chance to start?

No matter what it was, I’m not letting one unlucky night knock me out of the game. On Monday night, I’ll be at a birthday party with both the “friend with benefits” from Friday night, as well as the birthday boy, who I dated previously. Being in a room with either one of these guys, combined with alcohol, has been known in the past to result in morning after stories. On Tuesday night, I agreed to be set up with a guy in a friend’s pool league who she swears is a great guy looking for a relationship, who just hasn’t met the right girl. So, I’m not letting one little setback slow me down. Besides, then what the hell would I have to write about?

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