On the one hand: I knew he had his PhD candidacy exam coming up, so while I didn’t like his being MIA, I could understand it. The day before his exam, I caved and sent him a little good luck note. He was all “thanks,” and not much else. Perfectly reasonable, given how stressed he was. Reasonable, but it didn’t mean I liked the terseness.
Two days later — the day after his exam — I went on a really, really, really offish Plenty Offish date. I was a little drunk when I got home, as beer was the only thing that made this malodorous Rain Man-esque individual remotely bearable.
What did I do as soon as I walked in the door after the date? I reached out to PhD Boy again, this time asking how his exam went.
Here was my rationale: I can’t handle online dating anymore. I’ve been at it for three years — minus a 10-month relationship intermission with Dave the Third — and it’s so incredibly disheartening and nerve-wracking. When an opportunity arises to date someone smart, handsome and lovely through friends — the way I want to actually meet people — I’m not going to squander it. I will not let this one go without a fight… or without a little more effort, anyway.
So PhD writes back later that night that his exam was exhausting and stressful and he’s glad it’s over. I reply the following morning saying he deserves a gelato for his troubles — my treat. He says thanks, but he’s leaving town the next day and will be gone for a few weeks, and that maybe he’ll take me up on my offer when he gets back.
Right. *rolls eyes*
Say it with me girls: HE’S JUST NOT THAT INTO YOU.
After years and years of misinterpreting signals and trying too hard and getting in over my head and having hopes crushed and selling myself short, I know when to give up. I’m waving the white flag. I’m throwing in the towel. There is nothing more I can do to get this man’s attention without humiliating myself.
On the other hand:
Maybe he’ll call or write when he gets back… in three weeks? Anything’s possible. Not holding my breath, though.
The verdict: Do nothing, say nothing unless he makes the overture. The ball is in his court. Unequivocally.
AND!
The other day I went on a rather onish Plenty Offish date with the Green Eyed Aussie (turns out I misinterpreted the acronym JAFA… the second “A” in his case stands for Australian, not Auklander, as I earlier thought).
His idea for our first date was to go on North America’s fastest zipline, which could have either been a smashing success or utter and complete failure. I give him points for chutzpah and ingenuity. It turned out to be a blast, and we went out for Korean barbecue after. He tasted kimchi for the first time, and was utterly delighted by the spicy cabbage. It was quite adorable. Also adorable was how he said “they’ve got their hands in the biscuit tins,” when referring to corrupt politicians, instead of “they’ve got their hands in the cookie jar.” Anyway… not sure about the romantic possibilities quite yet, but he’s easygoing and energetic and fun to talk to and generally has a very positive energy about him. I hope to see him again.
Take that, Phd boy. Put that in your dissertation and smoke it.