Impolite

I suppose I should also mention that I did, after a few days of hearing nothing, contact the fellow I'd met.

We'd been texting a bunch before we met so when he went silent I knew he was making his retreat and it sucked.

My friends tried to give me the "he's just waiting three days!" speech, but I knew he wasn't.  Like I say, you don't go from a bunch of communication to no communication if you like the person and want to see them again.

So a few days after our "date" I sent him a text that said I'd liked meeting him and would like to go out again, but if he wasn't interested that was fine too.

I honestly thought he'd message back saying a polite, thanks but no thanks.  I mean, I'd sort of purposely given him that out, you know?

But nothing.

Which is sad, because it turns a nice guy into kind of a jerk.

We're not in elementary school anymore where a breakup could be done by just ignoring the person.  And by "breakup", I mean, let's not sit next to each other on the bus anymore.

So I was pretty bummed about that, and a little annoyed at his rudeness.

But I had a weird... metaphor?  Analogy?  Thingamy come to mind this weekend, post massive breakdown cries.

My Mom has a friend who's worked with a personal shopper for most of her life.  And I remember my Mom telling me that this friend said that shopping is work.  She said, on average, you have to try on eight shirts to find one that suits you really well.

And so this weekend I was like, well, I guess I have to go on, like, eight meet you dates before I find one that has the potential on both of our ends to turn into another date.  Like, I have to keep just trying on shirts to find one that looks really good on me.

(It makes sense in my head.)

Which kind of sucks, because I don't enjoy shopping.  And I don't enjoy putting myself out there, meeting someone and getting rejected.

I wonder if the shirts feel bad when I put them back on the hanger and send them back to the shelves?