Singular Scene

So Singular in Each Particular

A Matter of Manners

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I’m not sure if it’s possible to write this post without coming across as bitter and twisty, though, in my defence, while I am disappointed by the behavior accounted below I’m not grieving for anything other than being treated with a modicum of respect. The thing I’m most concerned about is that it’s not the first time. If I didn’t know better I’m starting to think my experience is the rule and good manners the exception and doesn’t that just make me feel like I’ve become *sharp intake of breath* my mother.

And so, our story begins…

A couple of months ago and funnily enough, at Bliss’ suggestion (if you’ve been reading since the beginning she was egging me on when I first started documenting this dating business), I signed up to the ‘next big thing’ in dating websites. 

You may well have seen the ads, it’s a site that rather than presenting a smorgasbord of profiles and pictures of singluar hopefuls have to surf through, it does the matching for you (according to your stringent criteria) and sends you details of profiles that are compatible – basically, it takes out some of the guess work and the whole ‘pick n mix’/pot luck of traditional dating sites.

So far I’ve been reasonably impressed with the offerings – and to cut a long and tedious story short, over the last 6 weeks or so I’ve happily corresponded with a P.O.P** Our emails were sparkling with wit and enthusiasm, our interests and lifestyle were ridiculously compatible and so as you do, we met up for a date.

It was a nice; a civilised dinner where the conversation flowed, and that honestly, was the first time I’ve been out with someone who I liked – not so much as to have a ‘crush’ but enough that I would have happily seen him again and spent time in his company!

So, post-date our correspondence continued (as evidenced by daily long and detailed emails and text messages and a phone call or two) and though I maintained a philosophical approach, a ‘que sera sera’ demeanour, I harboured a little hope that we’d see each other again, and that if nothing else, we had potential to be good friends.

(Do I really need to tell you where this is going? )

So, here we are 3 weeks after our date, and the contact has diminished abruptly (overnight!), after his last email chatting about his week and weekend and my reply in the same vein last weekend – there has been nothing since.

Not.A.Word.

It isn’t that he doesn’t want to see me again that bothers me… THIS is what gives me a pain. That he doesn’t have the communication skills/bollox to say, “Hey Dee, just checking in to say that it was great to meet you. I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve decided to ‘keep looking’ and as such, this email will be my last. I wish you all the best”, regards, Gutless Wonder.

(see, not bitter and twisty at all).

I’m a smart, sassy, strong woman who doesn’t feel afraid of speaking my mind and I’m not so fragile that his disinterest is going to cause me any lasting grief; disappointment, sure, I’m human, but I’m secure in myself that I’m valuable (let’s be realistic, FABulous) with or without his interest and because of that, I think I deserve to be treated respectfully. The frustrating thing is that what I really want to do is send him a rocket and a large piece of my mind – but I’ve too much self respect even for that…

… so I’m writing this post instead…

*Godly Online Dating Sites/Services
** Person of Potential

Heartbreak Warfare

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When I started this blog the whole focus, as is apparent in its name, was my singular status and my various attempts to remedy my singularity in favour of attaining a cooperative life at some point in the future… Well, here we are 6 years later and that future hasn’t happened.

It makes me wonder why this is so, and I wonder too what would change if my status did, and on top if these thoughts, as I sit here on the sidelines of a turmoil of someone else’s making, I also hesitantly breathe a sigh of relief that, as a single woman, I’m not at risk of quite the same pain. Because it’s the ones whom you love the most who have the greatest capacity to cause the very deepest hurt.

My visit home to NZ came with great joy, the thrill of being the surprise guest at my sister’s birthday party was worth all the effort of going; totally worth the sacrifice of both cash and available working hours just to see her face when I arrived. But the trip was also worth being there there to share the tears when events unfolded and we watched someone we love close the book on their relationship; walking away after 10 years. Walking through those waters would have been so much harder if done on foreign shores – and even though it’s not my little immediate family that’s being torn apart it is close and one I love very much and because of that I share a part in their heartbreak too.

We have such expectations of those closest to us, that we’ll do the right thing, that we’ll act honourably but we’re all human, we all act in our own self interest and regardless of circumstances that lead us to choose a path it is our character that determines what choices we make. I’ve seen bad choices this weekend, I’ve seen character flaws I really I hadn’t seen before and I’m just so disappointed. I didn’t want to be let down, I didn’t want to be surprised by love dying. I didn’t want to believe my kin were capable of choosing so poorly.

I want to turn back the clock, for them and for me – and I want to fix it. But the mess isn’t mine to clean up and I am powerless to put things back together. I can’t undo choices made and I can’t ameliorate the damage.

So I sit here, with my heart just a bit more broken than it was on Friday and I wonder, once again, if I’m not better off.

Just a Little Crushed

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I can’t remember the last time I saw him.

Actually I remember it I just don’t remember when it WAS.  But it was an uncomfortable encounter (for me) as the topic of conversation tended towards just how in lerv he was and how fabulous internet dating is! 

Tough to take when he’d been the object of my affection for far to long to be considered sensible… (yes, the phrase ‘he’s just not that into you’ was applicable).

In any case, I’ve moved on, so too has he… moved on to matrimony and I think I’d seen him 1x in the last 18 months.  I’d only heard vaguely that he was married but it has since been confirmed that a wedding did indeed take place.  Brilliant, jolly good show, old chap.

Not bitter.

Nuh ah…

Anyway, since I moved to my wee garden flat I’ve been in vaguely the same suburb as he had, to my knowledge, been living so I was surprised we’d never bumped into each other.

(You know what’s coming, right?)

That was until about 2 weeks ago.

Turns out he’s living less than a block from my place.  Turns out we can still find plenty to talk about, rugby, work, church etc.  Turns out he STILL looks you in the eye when he talks to you, like you’re the ONLY person in the room/on the sidewalk, turns out he still has the bluest eyes you ever saw.

Turns out I don’t fancy him any more*.

Phew…

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Healthy Choice

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I’m eating a box dinner. You know the kind, pull it out of the freezer, punch a couple of holes in the lid and fling it in the microwave.
This is not normal behaviour for me.
Blame it on the fact that I’m sick (I know, if you’re one of my facebook friends you’ve been hearing about it all week… sorry for carrying on here too). And before you ask I’ve been laid low with nothing more than the flu. I thought it was a cold. But I’ve had to escalate it to the flu because I’m still out of action at the end of a full week. Which is why I still have a limited appetite and still can’t be bothered cooking.
Which is probably why it’s taking me a bit long to recover. I’m not eating properly.
Which is why I’m eating a box dinner. It said healthy on the cover.
Hope it’s not wishful thinking.