The past three months of my dating (or lack thereof) life have been nothing but a jumbled ball of confusion.
I'd gone on various outings with a pleasant gentleman caller, and spent hours upon hours texting the man, but because there was never any "determine the relationship" conversation, I was left to believe we were "just friends" with the idea that one day, it could turn into something more, but maybe not.
Last Friday, December 13th (Holy cow; I just realized it was Friday the 13th!) started out as an ordinary day.
Actually, it was a day where I took little notice to my appearance, wore mismatched scrubs, had greasy hair and a general "eh" attitude about life.
My doctor and I were just finishing up an appointment where the client was thrilled to discover her dogs lump was not cancerous, but a mere lipoma. As the appointment wrapped up, I saw two men, and a dog being escorted into the next exam room.
Why? Because one of the guys was cute, and I can't handle a cute guy. I can handle just about anything else; give me a dead body any day.
I headed into the exam room, determined to be cool. And you know, I was cool, if I do say so myself.
The two guys were co-workers, one had come along with the owner of the dog for a break from work. For simplicities sake, we'll call the owner Johnny and his friend Bob.
As the appointment continued, I became consciously aware of a connection with Johnny, one of those moments where you can sense a mutual attraction, but you're not really sure what to do about it. We made small talk, and when the veterinarian left the room to mix up some ear medication and Bob went out to the car to retrieve the other dog, I realized I had nothing to say.
Johnny's dog, however, really liked the smell of my shoes (coincidentally, his dog bared the name of one of the greatest crushes of my life; we'll call the dog Bocephus). So, we talked about my shoes. They're great shoes, really. Barefoot technology (plug for the makers of barefoot technology shoes).
By the time Bob came back, it was clear that Johnny was single. He kept making mention of how alone he was, and (jokingly) how he had no friends in the area. It was a bizarre appointment, really, and when the time came for him to go, and I passed the dog leash back to Johnny, I knew, I just knew that things were going to be different this time.
That difference came about five seconds later when after Johnny left, the veterinarian I work for squealed that she had always wanted me and this guy to get together since the very beginning of time. I was peppered with questions, and asked if I felt the "spark" between us. I acknowledged the said spark, but I also was cautious.
"Oh my gosh," stated my doctor "You and Johnny would be so perfect together. He loves his dogs!"
Johnny stayed on my mind for the remainder of that day, so much so that I sent my mother a text stating:
"Had an attractive dude come into the clinic today. He was kinda flirtacious. He's cuuuuute."
Saturday, December 14th, my veterinarian and I were scheduled to work together once more. She asks:
"If Johnny were to come into the clinic and ask you out, would you say yes?"
I assured her this would not happen.
Ten minutes before the clinic closed for the weekend, Johnny walks in the door.
My heart skips a beat, my hands get all fluttery and try as I might to act normal, I can't.
So, I left.
Well, I ran to the back of the clinic to tell my doctor the amazing and incredible news. She squeals, smacks me and jumps for joy.
I saunter back up front, ready to take on his request for a Larimer County license for his dogs.
"I need to tell you something that might make me blush."
He proceeds to tell me how for the past 24 hours, he has been kicking himself for not getting my name, for not asking for a chance to get to know me.
I, remaining cool, tell him my name.
"Sarah. That's Biblical. I'm Johnny, also Biblical". (His real name is Biblical, friends).
So I reply, (with my back turned to him, because a) I'm cool and b) I'm trying not to show my flushed face:
"So are you Biblical?" (What? Does that even make sense?) I clarify: "Are you a Christian?"
And for the first time in my 200 years of life, Johnny replies in the affirmative. With that established, we quickly connect. He tells me how he spent the night before praying that I was a Christian. Alternating between hopeful and depressed. But on this day, he had to, just had to see me again.
Then he asks how he can get to know me better, I, being sly, hand off my phone number and together, a Nicholas Sparks story is made.
Except we're talking about me, and this blog wouldn't be called "A Funny Thing" for nothing.
So, later that day, he texts. And we texted for awhile, the majority of it about our shared beliefs, and the second half about how he can't believe what a lucky guy he is, and how you never know unless you take a risk, and that this is from God, and this is the start of all good things to come forever and ever amen.
He calls me a few hours later, and with his Nicholas Sparks mode turned fully on, he tells me:
"You know, instead of hearing your voice, I'd love to be sitting across from you, seeing you, hearing you talk."
We agree to dinner, and he comments that this is the fastest first date ever.
And oh, dinner was grand. He told me how pretty I look with my hair down, with my hair up. How expressive my eyebrows are (awkward, but I guess it's true), how funny I am, and finally, how he's never going to stop pursuing me unless I ask him to, because this is it, this is the real deal, and he's committed to seeing this through.
Okay, guys, I get it. He was a little eager, but having spent the last three months of uncertainty in the dating world, it was really nice to finally have a man who was clear with his intentions. And he was cute.
We went for a walk after dinner, because he felt our two hour dinner wasn't enough; he wanted to know me better.
On our stroll (which, by the way was in negative temperatures), he asked if he could hold my hand.
I'm going to admit something here:
I am a serial hand holder.
I have held way too many hands in my past, and *sniffle* have made a choice in recent months to only hold hands when it's the real deal. None of this hand holding intimacy allowed anymore.
So, I told him "no". Pretty freeing for this former hand-holding-aholic.
As we strolled, he told me about our future dates he was going to be planning, telling me once more that he wants to date me, and he will be the most romantic man ever, ever, ever.
We paused at a shop window. I turned to look at him, and he says:
"Don't look at me."
I ask him why. He grabs his chest and says I make his heart go "Pitter-patter".
At the end of our date, he asks if he may formally call upon me again. I reply in the affirmative. He hugs me, then tells me that, yep, I'm a good hugger too amidst my many admirable qualities.
For the next few days, a string of calls and texts follow, all telling me how he is pursing me, this is great, this is grand, this is it.
Awkward side note: He did mention how he had to shoot and kill a feral dog once (he wasn't sure what to say about my awkward silence, though he did ask numerous times if I was crying).
But I put aside the killing a dog business, and instead focused on a man who came out of nowhere.
Sad story: He's friends with one of my co-workers. She texted him to see how it was going with me, and I accidentally discovered their conversation when I was looking through her phone at a photo she had taken.
Like a creeper, I read a text message conversation about me. Indeed, he was enamored. I felt secure, for the first time in years upon years.
One night last week, he made mention of a past, a past he needed to tell me about.
His turn came when last Wednesday, when we met together again. I shared with him a few woes of mine.
He in turn tells me he's still in love with his former fiancée.
Allow me to repeat. Johnny is still in love with his former fiancée.
They broke up a month and a half ago. They spent the week prior to meeting me fighting every night.
He lies awake at night, wondering if she is worth fighting for.
I stare at him.
I offer words of encouragement. I can see him mentally shutting down.
He then asks to go grocery shopping with me.
So, off we went, heavy food shopping. He buys me a beautiful purple water bottle.
At our last stop before dropping me off at my car, I can see this man is fading from me. Any vested interest is leaving. He's conflicted.
Because he's still in love with his former fiancée.
I could say that phrase a million times and never get sick of it.
He sends me a text one night that everything is "tough, confusing, complicated" and the timing is "really, really rough."
And: "I don't know what to do with you, but I'm suddenly afraid to do anything more, even though you're just right."
I suggest he stops talking to me. Because you know, I had no real emotional attachment to this man, and wanted him to be happy, because I'm nice like that.
Plus, I don't want a man who is still in love with his former fiancée.
He tells me he "doesn't want to."
So, while I offer to be his friend, and to encourage him in any way, he does the manly thing and disappears for a few days.
Until tonight, when he tells me he's gone back to the former fiancée that he's in love with, and he hopes to make it work, but oh, he feels horrible for/about me, and he'll never forget about me, and maybe we can be friends, but it's hard being friends with someone you have feelings for, but he wants me to be in touch, but he feels no peace, and he's not very happy, and so on and so forth.
Then he told me he couldn't text anymore tonight because it was making him "feel bad".
If you're going to pursue someone, make sure you're not still in love with your former fiancée.