Pushing things on October 12, 1998…
Dear Breakup Girl,
There’s this guy I dated — saw him on a Monday — it goes well and I really like him so we date again the following day, he asks me to call him so we gab on the phone Wednesday and Thursday for like forever, we see each other again on a Friday and he gets to spend the night at my house. During this time I am beginning to go crazy over him. Then suddenly on Saturday morning, he decides to go, telling me “I’ll call you.” The call doesn’t come — on Saturday nor on Sunday. I decide to call Sunday and invite him to dinner and 30 minutes prior to the appointed time that Sunday evening he cancels, saying he has to take his mom to some sick friend’s house — and again there’s the “I’ll call you” at the end. I give him a call on Monday, talk a bit, no mention made about the dinner I COOKED and at the end, he says it again — “I’ll call you.” What do you think this “I’ll call you” thing means? Is that doublespeak for “go away, get out of my face, I don’t want to see you again?” Help, because I’m finding myself falling for this guy (I dare NOT call it love; I think it’s infatuation, but when I get this … I get hit BADLY). More power to ya.
At the risk of legalistic hair-splitting: he said he’d call, but he didn’t say when. And you didn’t give him a chance.He leaves Saturday, and what, you expect him to call from his car phone while he’s still in the driveway? Come on. This whole affair has gone way faster than the speed of sound — the sound of a ringing phone, that is. You may have met-him-on-a-Monday-and-your-heart-stood-still, but y’all moved forward pretty quickly — contact every day, then da doo ron ron on Friday? Yee! Now look, Breakup Girl does hear about all sorts of relationships that start out like, “He came by to tune my piano … and he never left.” Fine. But those miracles tend to be mutual. You, on the other hand — you said it yourself — get infatuated.
And listen up: as intoxicating as infatuation may be, you know what else is really fun? The divine agony of … waiting. Of letting things build up. Of wanting wanting wanting what you can’t have … until next week. Of finally hearing the ringing phone sing, “Someone’s thinking of you!” I am not suggesting that you should play coy/hard-to-get as, like, a tactic. I’m suggesting that taking it slower is more delicious and satisfying for you, that it’s a way of letting yourself fall good and hard … for someone who’s gonna be there to catch you. Even when he’s got a bottle of wine and a baguette — to go with your yummy dinner — in his other hand.