He postponed his flight

So I’ve taken a while to give you an update on the poker player I’ve had such a fantastic first date with. In a way I was hoping to write something conclusive. But; off we go.

When he texted me the day after our date, I took it as a sign of interest, and I was quite pleased. The next few days we went back and forth and I quite quickly asked him if he wanted to go out again before he’d go home. I was under the impression he’d leave pretty soon, so I felt like I had to act pretty quickly. He said yes, he’d like to see mee again, but that he would have to let me know. He was in a tournament he didn’t know how long would last, and he’d have to visit friends and family. All valid reasons. We kept in touch, his tournament ended after four days (or; he bombed), he went off to see his family, and things went quiet for a bit.

I messaged him a few days later, to which he replied saying he had been thinking about me. I might have blushed. But then we somehow steered back to Tinder, and he told me he had two more dates lined up this week. Thank God I wasn’t ignorant enough to confirm with him that I was one, though I did think that for a few moments. It stung a little. After his first date that week, he messaged me that he liked me better. I asked him if he was going to have time left to see mee. And I got ‘I think I have unconsciously been delaying going home because I want to see you again.’ I melted. We settled on a dinner date for Saturday.

He came to pick me up from the train station again, gave me a kiss, and off we went. Before dinner, we went to have a drink first. It was easy, simple and just like last time. I was happy to be with him, and it was so comfortable I wondered if this was what it should always supposed to be like. He was hungry for steak and so we went to a tiny little restaurant. He took my hands across the table to warm them. I had been meaning to ask him things. Like why he was dating in a country he wasn’t in most of the time. Or if I should attach any meaning to the fact he had been delaying his flight for me. Because of some of the things he’d said while texting I wanted to find out if there was some sort of interest there. But before we got there, the check came and the moment was gone. We did get to me telling him nine out of ten times I would go home at the end of the date. Not necessarily true, but I pointed out I had to like someone in order to do that. He said he liked that. And then we had to leave. A missed opportunity on my end, but at the same time I had to keep reminding myself this was only date two. In real life, you don’t have those conversations at that point.

Out on the street, he grabbed my hand, pulled me in and kissed me. A tourist passed by and told us to get a room, making us laugh. We decided to go back to the same neighborhood we went to last time, even though it was a bit far away. So off we went, hand in hand like a regular couple on the lookout for cozy cafe’s. We found one, sat close together and talked. After two drinks, we left and repeated somewhere else. Every now and then we’d stop and make out a little. Shortly after midnight he wrapped his arm around me, said he knew a great place, namely his house, and off we went.

We shared a cup of tea to warm up, which of course quickly led to a making out and undressing session in front of the windows. He tried to carry me to the bedroom but gave up when he hit his head on the lamp. He dropped an ‘is this all for me?’ again, which makes me think he either says that to everyone, or he was genuinely happy. Anyway, the sex was good, he’s seriously packing, but I don’t think he realizes. We fell asleep afterwards, perfectly content.

Previously, he’d already told me we’d have to get up early as the house owner would be coming home and he didn’t really like visitors. I’d been hoping this person would change their mind, or poker player would forget, but unfortunately no. However, he’d been keeping an eye on it to make sure there’d be time for sex left. It was lazy, slow morning sex, in which his orgasm was perfectly timed with the alarm clock. We laid there for a while while his fingers were running up and down my back. I couldn’t help myself and told him it was a shame he’d have to go back, to which he didn’t really respond. That took away any courage I had about asking him when he’d be back.

We had a quick breakfast together, after which I left at about nine thirty. The goodbye was like last time, with a kiss and a bye. That night, I texted him I’d had a great time, enjoyed seeing him again and that it was a bummer he was leaving. (After we’d set our date, he’d bought his ticket for the day after). He said ‘Yeah it was! But all good things come to an end.’ I stared at it for a while. Really? I asked if I should be taking that literally. No, he didn’t mean it like that, but he did have to do some thinking when it came to women. He wasn’t sure what he wanted. Fair enough. Knowing he just came out of a relationship, would be moving out of their shared house once he got back and considering we’d only had two dates, what was there for claim for me?

I wished him a safe journey, best of luck moving and all, and told him to keep  on touch. And when he made his way back over here and had done some thinking, who knew? It sounded like a good plan to him.

I won’t lie and say I shed a tear. Dating for me never comes easy in the sense that either I don’t like them, or I do like them and they’re not into me, but that’s usually clear from the beginning and I’m not in the dark. This time, I’m very into him, and there is no denying there was mutual chemistry. There was. I know it, and not only because he told me, and not only because of that postponed flight. There was something there. And maybe the timing wasn’t right. Maybe he does need to do some soul searching. Maybe I’ve confused him and he wasn’t expecting this. Maybe none of this all and I’ve fallen for it, hard.

There is something about this man that makes me feel completely at ease. I haven’t felt this way in a long time and it’s scary. Not in the least because ever since he got back, I didn’t hear from him. So last night, I sent him a message. Told him the city was a bit less exciting, and hoped he’d get the sunny Christmas he wanted. He replied almost immediately. That yes, that had been a good time. Insert smiley heart emoticon. Then sent me a photo of his dad who was helping him move and gave me an update on how the move was going with pictures.

If anything I might be back in his mind, and when the dust settles in his end we’ll see what happens. I’ll send him a reminder of my existence every now and then. Had he lived here, the situation would have been different and easier. We’d continue dating and just see what’d happen. Because he lives relatively far away, that’t not an option. It made me feel like I had to force something, because what sane man would hang on to two dates? What is there to explore through whatsapp? You can’t build anything this way. That makes me anxious.

I thought I would take a bit of a break from the dating thing, which is what I usually do when someone managed to confuse me. I am not going to put all my money on poker player, reality is that the chance anything is going to happen there are slim. But the door isn’t shut. Not yet.

He sang to me.

I am blown away. Yup, you read it, a man has managed to blow me away.

Let’s call him the poker player. We matched on Tinder last Friday, which I was super happy about, because he’s hot. I sent him a short ‘yay!’ message, and we chatted for a bit that night. Then on Saturday afternoon, he asked if I wanted to come over and drink wine in a nice cafe. I wanted to. But I already had another date with a guy from OKC set up. He told me to cancel, because he was much more fun. I told him I’d need a really good reason, because that’d be awful for my karma. He said he’d love to stare into my eyes over wine and have a wander through the dark city. And I thought; ‘what the hell.’ So I cancelled my date, and agreed to meet him.

He came to meet me at the train station, and when I saw him, I got even more excited. I think he felt the same, he grabbed me, planted three kisses on me, and off we went. We went to a tiny little cafe, and never stopped talking until two in the morning. He’s a professional poker player, and does so well he doesn’t live in this country but on a sunny island somewhere (not too far) for tax purposes, though he’s here often. We connected on so many things, yoga, meditation, our views on life and relationship. He radiated such calm and was so down to earth I never wanted to leave.

The only thing, and I knew this since I had looked him up, is that he’s barely out of a long relationship. He’s been together (engaged even) for nine years, and only split six weeks ago. I also saw the message on Facebook, in which he said there were no fights, it was a mutual decision that after so many years they had to face the fact they were not meant to be. They’d always be friends and all that. Very mature. When he talked about it that evening, he was very mature and calm about it. Nine years is a long time, though that kind of decision isn’t usually made overnight. Before meeting, he had told me he was dating, and whatever happened, happened, but he might be rebounding for all I know. That’d make the most sense.

I am tempted to believe him, there was something different about him. Anyway, when one o’clock rolled around and he wanted to go get another drink I told him that I would love to stay, but that if he didn’t feel like being responsible for a place to stay for me, I would have to think about my trains home. He wanted me to stay. A little voice in the back of my mind told me that maybe I should go home if I liked him, I might get hurt, but as usual, I ignored it.

We finished our drink, and off we went. We walked to his friend’s place, where he stays, and he stopped me on a bridge to kiss me. There we were, in the middle of the night, kissing on a bridge. It was awesome. When we got into the apartment building, he noticed there was a roof terrace. We got a bottle of wine from the house, some cheese, and went back up. We drank wine, had some cheese, he sang to me. We kissed some more. At one point, he just looked at me and said ‘is this all for me?’ Very smooth. At one point, he mentioned that this town seemed like a much better place to be, all of a sudden.

Once inside, we sat on the couch, he put music on, and started making out. Obviously that pretty quickly turned into lots of nakedness. And good, good sex. He was hung, and circumcised (which is rare here). After that, we moved into his bedroom, cuddled, talked some more and after a while, he was ready again. By the time we went to sleep, it was five in the morning. But when I had to get up to go to the bedroom a little later, I noticed I had bled a little on the sheets. Fuck. I had just come off my period, so that wasn’t it. This was the second time this happened. Once I discovered that, I lay there stressing out for a good hour. Was I going to tell him? Was I not and be surprised when we saw it? Was I gonna bleed more? Should I sleep on my back? And, how would he react?

Eventually, I did fall asleep, and we slept until noon. Nothing happened. He woke me up massaging my back. Seriously. One thing led to another, and we had slow morning sex. Once he pulled back the sheets, he saw the stain, saw my face (I was still mortified), shrugged and said ‘we made a mess’. And proceeded to make out. After he came, we laid there forever. He said he’d come so good and was so relaxed he was tingling and seeing purple stars. We stayed in bed, I was on his chest, and he’d kiss my hair every now and then.

When we did get up, he made us breakfast, we ate it half naked and it wasn’t awkward at all. He put his sheets in the washing machine, set up his computers to work later, and we left the house together. I was going home, he was going to get groceries. So we had to say goodbye on the corner of the street. He gave me three kisses on the cheek, a peck on the lips, said ‘great date’, and then ‘bye.’ and turned around and left. I was a little taken aback by the abruptness of it. No ‘see you next time’, or ‘we’ll be in touch.’ I went home wondering if he was just very good at the game, if I looked differently in daylight, or if he just doesn’t do goodbyes.

Once home, I contemplated a plan of attack. I wouldn’t text him yet, I would give him time. I don’t think that after a serious relationship like he had, he wants to be crowded by someone wanting all sorts of things from him after a first date. So I talked it over with my friend, and went to bed, feeling a little weird about it. The goodbye was in such contrast to the date, and rather anticlimactic.

But when I woke up this morning, I woke up to a message from him. A nice one, too. He nicknamed me, said he had had a great date, then some about his Sunday, and a have a good workweek for me, ending with an x. We went back and forth a bit, I asked if the sheet got clean (it did) and that’s it for now. I don’t want to be on his case, I want to give him space. At the same time, I think he goes back to his island home some time next week, so I do plan on asking him to see if he’d like to meet up again before he goes.

The distance thing doesn’t bother me, but the relationship is a bit tricky. He is most likely not ready for anything at all. And here I am, feeling like this after only one date, and that never happens. It’s very likely I am going to get hurt. We will see how this goes; I am trying to manage my expectations and hope, though I really, really like this one.

Anticipation

First things first; the cliche about tall, blonde Scandinavians are true. And they’re all hipsters. Oh my. Heaven.

When I got back; I received a message from the Stud asking how it was. We went back and forth for a bit; until he asked me how I’d liked the Vikings. Had I taken advantage of them? No, I had a roomie. That doesn’t mean anything, he said. I joked that I behaved myself and that I’m not that kind of girl. He said that can be interpreted in a few different ways. All in all; he really wanted to know. When I asked if I should be quizzing him as well, he informed me he had not had sex this weekend, intentionally, and that it had to do with his visit to me. I seized the opportunity and asked if it was ‘the other girl’ that had come over, as he’d told me days before. Yes, she was. Why no sex? Turns out, he had told her about our weekend (I wonder how you get to that point in a conversation with another woman) and that she had told him she thought he was too casual, his moral was a bit too loose for her liking, and she’d feel like a number if she slept with him. All good points. So, he didn’t intentionally not have sex, he was denied.

I guess his visit to me ruined that for him. I asked him exactly that and said that I was under the impression he didn’t want to have anything casual at the moment. He said people changed. Hence his visit to me. I stared at my phone for a good while. It sounded like he was lucky not to have had to pay for it. Couple hours later, I told him I was sure he didn’t mean it the way it came across, but that I could not think of an appropriate response as he was leaving a lot of room for interpretation. He immediately apologized, said he didn’t mean that, and suggested we talk about this face to face. While I think that’s a really good thing and I am happy he is taking it seriously, I do think he will tell me things I don’t want to hear. Either way, we’ve been in touch a lot; told me he loved a photo I uploaded, and is being super interested in my new nephew. (I’m an auntie now!) We decided to meet when he’s off work for three week, which will be starting next week.

Dating wise nothing much happened. The Tinder guy I really wanted to meet last week has been flaky. He wanted me to come to his town real bad, and tried real hard. He lives an hour and a half away from me. I don’t think so. We then scheduled for tomorrow, and yesterday he gave me the lame excuse he thought it was next week Wednesday. Eh no. Moving on.

I’m talking to two more guys that are quite interesting; one is a Canadian that lives by the beach (good enough reason) and one total hippie that lives on a houseboat and I have fantastic conversation with. We talked about seeing the football game together on Saturday, so let’s see.

Unexpected Fun

Leading up to my supposed date with the Stud last night, he had been a little standoffish when trying to nail down a time. On Friday, I asked him what the plan would be. He said it was up to me. I asked if he still wanted to come to my town. He said it didn’t matter to him. I asked if he wanted to do dinner, drinks, or both. He said he was a little tight in finances. I told him not to worry, and he said ‘okido.’ No one ever says that word. Something felt off, and I was getting a little anxious. Then last night by seven, I had still not heard from him. I was frustrated, and even more when he said he wouldn’t get here before nine when I texted him. I felt like I was being squeezed in.

I ended up having to rush getting dressed and all, but was pretty happy with the result. I went to pick him up from the train station, and he was perfectly happy and good looking as usual. We quickly made our way to a bar and talked as if we hadn’t seen each other in years. My strategy for the night was to not remind him of any trains going home. I was just going to let time pass, not say anything and if he’d missed his train, oh how unfortunate. He told me he had come from his family who had grilled him when he’d told them he was coming here. What’s there? Well, Ella. Who’s Ella? Are you staying the night? I guess I am taking it as a positive thing his family knows about me now, though I don’t know what he’s told them.

We once again touched the subject of dating when he said that after his weekend of sailing two weeks ago, he had visited the one other girl he was still in touch with besides me.  She lives on the other side of the country and since he had to be there, he took the opportunity to go see her, and also mentioned he spent the night. My mind raced a little at this point. The odds of course say that he slept with her. I didn’t know how I felt about that. Well, I did. Why her, and not me? I had looked her up before. He’d mentioned her name a few times, and she’s on his Facebook list. She is the polar opposite of me. Black hair, tan skin, perfect make-up, and curvy. I didn’t ask him what he wanted from her or me. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to hear the answer.

By the time he pulled out his phone to look at the time, it was one o’clock, and quite a few more drinks later. He said he didn’t know if he was going to get home. I told him to stay with me, to which I got a yay. Must have been his plan already. We had a last drink, and headed home. He was a little more touchy-feely than I know him to be (or maybe, once again I am reading too much into this) but since he had mentioned his other friend and I was all too aware of his resistance to casual sex and commitment, did not think anything of it. Just in case I got the signals wrong, I didn’t want to embarrass myself or him either.

Back at mine we have a last drink before we head to the bedroom. He used my toothbrush, saying his mouth has been at weirder places on me with a grin, and we unceremoniously get changed for bed. He had mentioned his sore back a few times, and I’d seen him wiggle around during the night. I offer to massage and try to loosen him up a bit, and he happily accepts. I stop before he falls asleep, and lie back down.We talk for a bit, with him stroking my arm, and then he mentions that it’s  been a while since we’ve shared a bed. Yes, two and a half months to be exact. At this point, call me oblivious, I am still think we’re being perfectly platonic. He doesn’t want me like that after all. While I had hoped he’d come back home with me, I had not thought sex was in the cards, I would have been perfectly satisfied to have just spent more time with him. But when I switch off the bedside light, he doesn’t hesitate.

We make out for a long time while our hands just roam around as if it were all new. Because of his back I end up doing most of the heavy lifting, but he manages to make me come twice with his fingers. I suck him until he’s hard, scramble around for a condom and get to work. We closed my windows because of the neighbors and my squeaky bed, and it’s warm in the room. We’re both sweating, and the sheets are clammy. I love it. Means the sex is dirty. He doesn’t come though, and even after we switch around, he admits that it’s not happening. Oh well. Beers, pressure, busy day, who knows. He wraps his arms and legs around me, and we both fall asleep pretty quickly. It’s four thirty.

I wake up a few times, gently shove him once to make him stop snoring, and we both lazily whisper good mornings by nine o’clock. We drift in and out of sleep for the next hour, and I wake up again when his fingers draw up and down my back. After a while, he moves on top of me, and we lazily make out. I love being squished. Eventually he sucks and bites his way down, and spends a glorious amount of time eating me out. After I come he doesn’t stop, and my legs are shaky when a second orgasm hits. We switch, and I do the same for him. He plays with my hair while he moans and groans, and I can’t help but smile a little. It turns me on. He doesn’t warn me when he comes, but I can feel it, and take it all. I find out he doesn’t care about tasting himself, and we happily kiss and hug while coming down from the high. We get up at around eleven thirty, take turns in the shower, and have breakfast. It’s comfortable. I take him to the train station to go home an hour later, and we say our goodbyes.

That was definitely more than I bargained for, in the best way possible. As corny as it sounds, it was perfect. Everything worked, and it was one of those nights where there’s just a connection and you want human contact. When he’s gone, I go through my usual hour or two of feeling conflicted and sad, and call my friend.

We did not talk about the current situation. I do not think this night changed anything for him. It was a natural progression and we both wanted it. It just worked out that way. I don’t know if he likes me that way. Yes, he likes me as a person and thinks I’m hot, but I don’t think he has changed his mind about his situation. It confuses me at some point. He tells me one thing but his actions say another. If casual sex makes him unhappy, as he has mentioned, then why did he do this? Where does this other woman stand? I think one of the reasons he has stayed in touch with me (apart from regular liking me) is the fact I have not been nagging him about the whole thing.

I’m not sure if we should even talk about last night. I shouldn’t even been thinking about it so much, because I should be clear on the situation. But well, I’m a girl. Though I do think, should this happen again, maybe it is time for the both of us to re-evaluate. I will see him again, he’s said so, so we’ll have to see how that goes. I know I cannot do this forever. I can do the casual sex thing if I am not into someone, but I am into him, and he must know that somewhere inside.

Date #3

On Wednesday night, a couple days after my second date with the bisexual man (who I will now call Stud as it sounds much better) he sent me a text late at night asking if he could call me. Sure, I replied, wondering what he could possibly want to talk about. He calls, and says he wants to hear a familiar voice. He is at his father’s house, trying to clean it out. His dad has Alzheimers, and he took the ungrateful job of sorting through his things to see what’s staying and what’s going. He feels alone and a bit sad, understandable. We talk for a while until he feels better, he goes to take a bath, I go back to bed. I did wonder if he had no one else to talk to, seeing as we’d only been on two dates, but at the same time I consider it a good sign.

We exchange only a few texts during the week (he’s not much of a texter) and when on Saturday evening I ask him if he’s gone home or still at his dad’s house, he says he’s still there, and I am more than welcome to come. He throws in a bath, and a ride to my workshop in his city in the morning. Even though it’s an hour away, I accept after making sure he’s not joking. He warns me it’ll be like camping, but hey, nothing I don’t know. So I jump on a train, tell him I’ll be there at 9, and he comes to pick me up from the train station.

At his dad’s house, he gives me a tour and I start to understand what he’s doing. There’s boxes and boxes of stuff everywhere. Countless binders with paperwork. I wonder if it’s uncomfortable that I’m at his father’s house, but he’s not, so I let it go. He gets drinks, we talk as usual, and somehow ending up playing monopoly on the floor in between the boxes. He’s very touchy-feely this time. I make an idiot of myself by constantly forgetting the rules, and hope he doesn’t think I’m stupid. We play for about an hour, and then call it quits to take a bath. He very cutely pours quarter of a bottle of oil in, lights candles, and we jump in. Neither of us have a bath at home, so we take full advantage and hang out until the water gets cold.

Thank God there’s a bed, and we quickly put a sheet on it, and zip two sleeping bags together. Unlike last time, we get right down to business, though we take it a lot slower. The bath made us lazy! We make out for a while, until I climb on top of him. I suck on his balls and dick and listen to him moan. And then he pulls me up by my hair, kisses me hard, and holds me down. Yay. He bites his way down, and I enjoy looking at him in between my legs, and his shoulders working. He spends good time eating me out, but does it very slowly. I give into it and after a while come quietly, very civilized, yet he knows. I take his dick in my hands, and work it until I decide it’s time to fuck. I sit myself down on him, and manage to find a perfect angle. We go at it fast and hard, I make myself come another time, and he quickly comes with his signature three hard thrusts and moans. There’s just something I love about watching and hearing men come, and he’s very satisfactory.

After a quick clean up, we get back into bed. I tell him he’s hot, and find out he’s bad at taking compliments. We have another lazy make out session, and then decide to go to sleep. The alarm will go off in a few hours, he has to go rowing, and I have 3 hours of yoga to do the next day. I’m happy he doesn’t snore as bad as last time, and manage to actually get a good night sleep.

When we wake up, I’m ready to go at it again, but we don’t have any more condoms, and he’s worried of being late. So he gets up to do some last cleaning and get his stuff together, and I take a shower. It’s a quiet morning, but not of the awkward kind. After an hour we close the door and drive back to his city. We get there a lot faster than planned. He parks the car, and we load up his bike with our bags. He rides home with me on the back, and even have time for a cup of coffee at his place. Since he has to be in the boat at 11:30 and my workshop doesn’t start until one, he tells me to stay behind if I want. I can hang out and just close the door behind me? Awesome. I even feel a little flattered. He leaves after a kiss, and I look around. Where to snoop first? No, joking. I didn’t. I did open up his medicine cabinet to see what was there (nothing interesting) went to see what was on the floor beside his bed (a book and condoms) and had a good look at his bookcase. We actually read a lot of the same stuff. His passport was also sitting there, and I did look at that. I found out that when the passport was issued, 3 years ago, he was still married. I already knew that. He’s been married to a man for 6 years, and they were together for 13 years. Intimidating. They split up 2 years ago, very amicably, and their divorce isn’t even final yet. Neither of them want to screw the other over, and apparently, that takes time. Oh well. It’s not a shock, and I’m not bothered. I sit around for a while, have another drink, and then leave for class. I send him a text to say thanks for using his apartment.

After class, late in the afternoon I have a text from him asking how it was, and we go back and forth for a bit. He says he’s gonna go our for a walk since the sun is out. I say I am going for a green shot with two classmates and will wave if I see him walk down the street. I don’t think much of it, but sure enough, half an hour later, there he is. In jeans, shirt and sunglasses. Looking very hot. We spot each other at the same time and I am immediately a little on edge. I’m still sweaty, I’m pretty sure my make up is smudged, and my  hair is in a frizzy ponytail. We say hello with a kiss, he says hi to my two friends, tries my green shot, talks some more, and then leaves with another kiss to go get ice cream. My two male friends stare me down. Who was he? I tell them we’ve been on a few dates and that’s it. They agree that he is smoking.

On the train home, he texts, so hopefully that means he’s not put off by my not so charming post-yoga look. I feel really comfortable around him, but yet I am unsure of what to do all the time. I have the feeling he’s not necessarily looking for something serious. Which is fine, but I need to tell myself to not expect anything or be too forward about meeting up. I also think he is not into me romantically, but does not like being alone at this point in his life and is comfortable with me. We get along really well, are both super comfortable, and the sex is good. I also know that he is insecure, and might struggle with the same thoughts I struggle with.

Tricky thing is that I go on holiday for almost a month in two weeks, and I am nervous he will meet someone else. I’m pretty sure he still goes on dates, which I am fine with, but I don’t want him to meet anyone he’ll be more into that me. Fair chance though, 3,5 weeks is a long time, he won’t wait for me, so hopefully he’ll still be there when I come back. So I have two weeks before I leave, of which 3 trips to Germany, and my period is due on my last weekend home next weekend. Awesome. I gotta figure that one out.

When the dust settles

As usual, I wonder if I overreacted. The pain of rejection has subsided and my two feet are back on the ground.

He sent me a friendly message to ask if I was alright. And I am, I really am. I have booked myself to be ridiculously busy during my 2 week holiday break, and now that I’ve got it off my chest, I feel a lot better.

And then I start thinking. Was I in love with the Ginger? No. Did I think I could ever be? Yes. Did I become emotional just because I was rejected, or because I didn’t realize how much I liked him? I can’t make up my mind. Would I be ok seeing him again knowing he doesn’t like me that way and might never? Probably. Am I telling myself these things because I am missing intimacy? Maybe.

All in all, did I make a mistake by reacting so quickly and should I have taken some time to think about how I actually felt about him before telling him I couldn’t see him again?

If I were to tell him that, how does that come across? (Don’t worry, I won’t just yet in this state) He’d probably think I’m saving my face, lying or desperate. Or confused.

To what extent did I fuck up?

I really like you…

but. Yup, I got that one yesterday. In other words, I got dumped. I was hoping to be able to write something happier about the Ginger, but here we go.

He got back from touring last weekend, and as usual, we’d been in touch pretty much daily. I was looking forward to his return and seeing him again, but when he hadn’t asked about meeting after a few days, I did. He said ‘sure’. Well that didn’t sound too enthusiastic, and when I asked, he told me he wanted me to know he wasn’t head over heels, and felt that I should know. He thought I was great and loved spending time with me, but didn’t think it would go beyond that. Well fuck me.

I told him I kind of had thought that way and thanked him for his honesty. Then, I asked him to delete some of the photos I had sent him. Nothing explicit, but still. To which he replies ‘is it all over then?’ Uhm well, isn’t that what you’re telling me? So I said that if he didn’t see it going anywhere seeing him would be awkward for me and kind of pointless, because I did like him. He said he understood, and had just wanted to see where I stood in this thing. (Seriously, what’s wrong with a phonecall?) I decided to suck it up. Told him it was a bummer for me, but tough luck.  And said that I felt led on by all the texting. (Why else would you do that if you’re not into someone?). He apologized. Coming back to his question of it being all over, I asked him what he wanted from me. He said ‘I dunno… friendship?’

So that’s that. He told me twice he thought I was really great and he really liked me. But apparently not enough for anything serious. I would have been happier if he’d said I was a bitch. Because what’s missing then? I kind of got the idea he was expecting me to be ok with it and be open for meeting up for sex (or indeed friendship, who knows) and did not expect me to put an end to it like this. My friends agreed, thinking he might come back after realizing what he had after it’s gone, but I doubt it. And it doesn’t make me feel better. I cried for about an hour last night and then got it together. I do feel better today but I feel like I lost something. Which is weird.

I have to admit I miss the daily texts. I have to sit on my hands to not send him a note. I don’t hate him, he’s not a jackass. At least he was honest and clear and didn’t drag it out for months. He deleted his online profile today, maybe he realized women actually want more from you if you’re on a dating site. Also, I feel a bit lonely. Another fail.

Do I text him? Do I be nice and show him I can be friends if he wants to? Show him I am actually fantastic and see if he’ll turn around? Ugh. Help!