In my previous post, we left off with Mr. Insecure asking to be my boyfriend after I basically abandoned him at a club to go on another date. I told Mr. Insecure “no” and that I was very flattered, but I still didn’t want a boyfriend. He seemed to understand, but then he suggested that we go out as friends. Ummm, no. I told him I didn’t think that was a good idea because eventually things would get awkward and we should just part ways amicably. No hard feelings. He responded by throwing out all these random scenarios and asking if we could do those things as friends. He became really attached to the one about walking to the store. “So, you’re saying I can’t even walk you to the store? You think I can’t even handle walking you to the store?”
I don’t know why he became semi-obsessed with the store scenario, I certainly hadn’t brought it up, but he saw that as the ultimate insult for some reason. I confirmed that he couldn’t even walk me to the store. He mumbled angry/sulky-sounding things about bags of potato chips and friendship, but I eventually managed to end the conversation. He called a few times a week and left compliment-filled messages. I felt bad, but I avoided every single call.
Mr. Insecure never knew my home address, but he did know where I worked. One day, a few weeks after I refused his platonic bodega outings, I got a card in the mail at my job from none other than Mr. Insecure. The printed part of the card said something about honoring friendship. On the blank part of the card, Mr. Insecure wrote a longish (maybe 20-line) poem about me. It was an awful, horrible, but sweet and probably sincere poem. Mr. Insecure put his phone number on the card and implored me to call. I never did and I kept avoiding his calls until they stopped a month or so later. I ignored the emails too. Attractive, nice guy, but totally not the one.
Now, as for Alpha…
Alpha and I hung out pretty tough. We were not exclusive (I made that clear up front), but we spent a fair amount of time together. We swam at the beach, popped bottles in the club, ate at nice restaurants and watched re-runs of 90’s sitcoms in his living room. I’m pretty sure we went to the store too. Basically, we just had a lot of fun. Lots of smiles and laughter with Alpha.
After about three months of seeing each other once or twice a week on average, Alpha called me up one day with an unusually serious tone. “I don’t really know how to say this, but we can’t see eachother like we have anymore. I like tall, dark girls.” WHAT?
Karma’s a bitch, huh?
Now, I don’t begrudge anyone their preferences, but I had not gotten any lighter or shorter since we first started hanging out. I could lick my wounds and be okay with somebody getting bored with me or just finding somebody he liked better, but don’t insult my intelligence, dude.
Plus, it’s not like I’m an albino dwarf. I’m a brown lady (Exhibit A) and the last time I was measured I was somewhere between 5’5 and 5’6. That means most days I stand 5’9/5’10 in my usual shoe style of choice. On top of all that, he made this ridiculous declaration over the phone. Coward. He insisted he wanted to remain friends. I didn’t. I told him that if he wanted to date Michael Jordan in a skirt, be my guest.
You know how sometimes when things end with someone, you have a hard time getting out of the habit of calling that person? Yeah, that wasn’t the case with Alpha. I thought he was an idiot and never dialed the man’s number again.
About two or three weeks after that dreadful phone call, I was at a bar with a girlfriend and ran into Alpha. Ugh. He walked over grinning like we were old friends and had the nerve to try to give me a hug. Negative. Tried to buy my girlfriend and me drinks too. No way Jose.
Alpha was getting on my nerves so we left early and went to a club that had one of my favorite DJs spinning that night. I was about to pay for the drinks my girlfriend and I had just ordered when the bartender informed me that the gentleman at the end of the bar paid for them already. I turned, hoping on everything that it was not Mr. Insecure or Alpha. Fortunately, it wasn’t. I mouthed “thank you” and the adorable green-eyed man walked over to say hello. I married him two years later.
P.S.– Alpha continued to call me (I accidentally answered once) until I changed my number a few months after that bar encounter. I didn’t change it because of him, but it did rid me of his presence for good. Mr. Insecure had already stopped calling by then.