The Scene:
HB & Nora. Enjoying a quiet night at home, lazing about in each other’s arms, mouths of full of Jimmy John’s sandwiches, laughing at the ridiculousness that is the movie “Knocked Up.” There are moments where we discuss different nicknames for each other, talk about the upcoming DMB concert, his new job, how he enjoys kissing me. HB yawns so Nora offers to go home (hoping he’ll say no) so he can rest before his first day at the new office. He declines her leaving and instead walks her into his bedroom where they proceed to kiss extensively.
HB pauses and informs Nora that “she’s making this hard.” Nora’s heart jumps into her throat, not because she loves HB, but knows this can’t be good. She quickly pulls on jeans and a sweatshirt and upon her return to his room he informs her, while holding her hand, that he doesn’t think that “This can be more than a friend thing.”
Nora, quick to the draw, and being Sicilian at heart, grabs her stuff as quickly as possible and flees the apartment, HB running after her.
“Talk to me,” he says.
” I have nothing to say. You want to be friends. I want to be more than friends. End of story.” Nora’s furiously running down the stairs, hoping to God she doesn’t trip and make more of a fool of herself than she already feels.
“Why won’t you talk to me?” HB stands there, hands in his pockets, blue eyes not shining for the first time since they went out over six weeks ago.
As Nora shuts the door to her car, “There is nothing to say.” And off she goes. She waits until he’s out of sight before she lets herself start crying and calls ManMate to inform him she’s on her way home, through gasping, very unladylike sobs.
HB called Nora this morning and she stupidly answered, but after a fitful night of sleeping where her dreams were replaying the “let’s be friends,” sentence, and unnecessary but totally girlie moments of crying, there were questions she had.
“Why the sudden change of opinion? Why did you wait to tell me until we were in you room at midnight?”
HB stutters… (this one’s for you, Nova!): “I don’t think that spark is there that needs to be there. You didn’t do anything. I think you’re awesome, blah blah blah (Nora inserted the blah blah blahs as what he said was nice but not helping). Can we continue to hang out?”
In Nora’s head, the letters WTF are flashing in big, bright letters. No spark? Right, okay, sure. It took you six weeks, hanging out approximately three to four times a week, not to mention texts and phone calls initiated by HB in between, to figure out there was no spark. And continue to hang out? Um, sure, we’ll just ignore all the more- than- friends- feelings I have. If we lived in opposite land maybe this would work.
I told HB now is definitely not the time to try to be friends and while I respect what he’s saying, I’m confused and don’t get it and ended with my usual good luck to you and your endeavors, even though in my head I was screaming a slew of curse words.
I know that we were only dating for a little over six weeks (or was it eight? I’m not sure), but hearing anything that resembles a rejection is never easy, most especially when you least expect it. I’ve started and deleted about eight texts to him today knowing that talking to him is the worst thing I could possibly do even though it’s the only thing I want to do.
I also know that there are circumstances and reasons for things that happen that we’ll never understand… and while this isn’t huge in the grand scheme of things, it hurts pretty F*ing bad at this very moment.
I am tired of going through the dating circus. Jumping through firey hoops only to be caught on the sleeve with a flame. Letting my walls down only to have to spend several months building them back up. Trusting people because that’s what I’m wired to do. Telling myself that I need to change yet I can’t be bitter, cynical and guarded. I’m that nice person who wants to make you smile and that is who I will always be, no matter how many times someone takes my heart and feelings and runs over them with an 18-wheeler.
I’m tired of people telling me to be happy with who I am and stop searching for a guy. I have news for you! I’m not searching. And I am happy. Why don’t you stop projecting what you think my life should look like onto me? That might help. Peer pressure is very much alive, especially when all your friends are settling down: they expect you to do the same.
And men… don’t break up with a girl after you’ve spent five hours with her. And try not to tell her friends before you tell her. That’s just bad form.
