The text came in just as one of my best friends was walking through the front door. Simone was sound asleep in her room, and Sweet Friend had offered to bring a bottle of wine and hang with me on the balcony—she’d been traveling, and we hadn’t really caught up in several weeks.
She immediately noticed the expression on my face, which was mostly incredulous, with a smattering of anger and just a dash of relief.
“What happened?” she whispered. I gave her a hug, opened the wine, filled two glasses almost to overflow, and shepherded her to the back balcony, where we clinked and guzzled before I started talking.
I showed her. In the new, beautifully clear text of my iPhone 4, I’d been given the “Can we just be friends?” write-off. Sweet Friend took a deep breath. I laughed.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
I looked out at the summer night, stars just peeking through the last of the tattered clouds that had brought us our daily afternoon thunderstorms. The evening breeze rose and fell, gently carrying night scents of oak and earth.
“Yeah,” I said, finally. “I’m fine. Just annoyed.”
Which was mostly, but not completely, true. I didn’t fool Sweet Friend.
“Talk to me,” she said.
It’s not like I’d abandoned all sense when it came to this girl—she was gorgeous, for sure. But she’d had more red flags than a Tiananmen Square parade. Our few dates had been incredibly fun, and though I maintained an internal sense of perspective, I couldn’t help wonder about the possibilities.
In other words, she was totally wrong for me, and I liked her all the more for it.
So of course I was a little disappointed. But it was my ego that took the real hit...not my heart. I couldn’t help wondering where I’d failed.
As Sweet Friend sat alongside me, I answered the text graciously: “Of course we can be friends. But level with me...what happened?”
The answer, when it came, was one I’d given many times myself: “You’re [positive trait] and [positive trait], but I don’t think I have romantic feelings for you.”
Hey, of course I’m [positive trait] and [positive trait]. I’m also really good at [positive trait], and an amazing [positive trait].
Sweet Friend (to whom I delivered a very similar message exactly a year ago, and with whom I’ve created a true and lasting friendship) said, “How could anyone NOT have romantic feelings for you?”
Seriously!
And that’s when she looked at me and said, “You should write your next Dating Dad about ‘replay.’ When you look back and try to figure out how you screwed up.”
Yep. I knew the woman wasn’t not right for me, and that most likely she had beaten me to the punch. And, come on, not feeling that spark (or claiming not to) had very little to do with anything I actually did or said, and even less with who I am as a person. I knew that. I don’t have self-esteem issues.
But that didn’t stop me from replaying our last couple of dates to look for clues.
We all do it. Things go awry, and, even if it’s not our fault at any level, we can’t help wondering where we went wrong. Was it something I said? Did she disapprove of my choice of activities? Did she pick up on my reservations about her?
I went from the very specific (man, I shouldn’t have made her walk to the restaurant, even though it was a lovely evening, because the wind came up and we got caught in that dust storm) to the general (it’s because I have a child, and it finally scared her away). I thought about our conversations, deconstructed our interactions, second-guessed the ways we said good night.
And that all happened in the first few minutes of processing her text. By the time I’d dragged myself out of bed the next morning, I had a head full of scenarios, unanswerable questions, and iterative monologues (you know - stuff I wanted to say to her but never would). While showering, I went from wondering what I’d done wrong to what was wrong with me...was it the way I look? My choice of shoes? Where I live? The car I drive?
And this was about a woman with whom I’d had just three or four dates. Just dates. You can imagine what it’s like for me when things end (my doing, or hers) with someone who truly has my heart. There are still days when I replay my mistakes with the Peach. And the ultimately unsatisfying result of my Be Mine gambit tends to make its way into my consciousness as I struggle to fall asleep after a night of carousing; washed and brushed and hydrated, but drunk and alone, wondering what I could have done differently, and why my dreamgirl isn’t curled up around me.
The replay is dangerous, because it makes its entrance under the guise of self-improvement — shit, I messed up...how can I be better next time? — and then it has the power to make us second guess everything we did (and worse, who we are). Sure, learning from our mistakes is valuable. And when someone provides specific, heartfelt feedback, we should be grateful. But, ultimately, the replay is just us guessing at stuff that can’t be answered in our own heads, and when we don’t fight it off, we go nuts.
The best thing (unless you really want to punish yourself and ask the person in question for specific reasons that things didn’t work out), or, at least, what works best for me, is to cut the internal, destructive monologues off as soon as you recognize they’re starting, and replace them with positive self-talk.
“She wasn’t right for me, anyway, because ___.”
“I deserve someone who really gets me and wants to be with me.”
“My life is amazing.”
And then you take a deep breath, shake your head, put on songs that make you happy, and realize more dates — better dates — are right around the corner.
It helps that I’ve stopped looking for that one right girl; just enjoying dates and being open to possibilities makes the minor disappointments easier to bear.
There was another shade to receiving that text when I did, though, because I was starting to think that I’d be having the same conversation with someone else I’d gone on dates with around the same time. And the way that text made me feel gave me pause about pulling the same crap on a very sweet and fun woman.
First, there was no way I’d text her the write-off. That would be unfair. And I also wanted to avoid the “You’re [positive trait] and [positive trait], but...” line. I wracked my brain (and heart) for ways to let her know I wasn’t interested in more dates without causing the pain that I was feeling.
But I couldn’t come up with anything, so, instead of circling around the conversation, I just called her and told her that I wasn’t feeling the spark. I told her our first two dates had been really fun, and that I knew that it was my energy and my fault our third date wasn’t so great. And then I earnestly told her how much fun I’d had with her, and how lucky I felt to have been able to spend time with her.
She took it pretty well, but I could tell she was hurt and disappointed.
I felt awful. But I had a session with my counselor that day, and she gave me some insight. She said, “You can’t ensure you’re not going to hurt her feelings — in fact, if she likes you, then of course she’s going to be hurt — that’s a compliment to you. All you can do is end things without being hurtful.”
What a difference that made — there was no way I could have said what I needed to say without causing hurt feelings. But I could say it without being hurtful. I knew she’d be doing her own replay, and the best thing I could do for her was to be honest and open and kind.
That perspective also helped me realize that it was okay to be hurt by the text that came my way, out of the blue. Whether we had potential or not, the truth was that she didn’t want to go out with me anymore. Of course that was going to bother me.
Giving myself permission to be annoyed and disappointed (up to a point) actually ended the replay loop, because I realized there was nothing I could have done to change the ending, and I was better off taking the hit and moving on.
Plus, it’s summer, which is not the season for stewing. That’s a winter activity.
Great post. We're living parallel lives right now. I just wrote all this out for myself (more or less) this morning and am trekking south to get the punishment of finding the specific reasons. Good advice for being on the other side...and as Susan noted, we've all been there.
Loved the line "In other words, she was totally wrong for me...."
If only we could will our hearts to love the ones who show up and do every last perfect thing we've always wanted, and not the totally wrong one, v2.0, or 3.0 et al.
An A'Cote cheers to you, my friend. I'm right there with ya.
Posted by: Stephanie Hight | July 29, 2010 at 04:25 PM
Eric, the replay is certainly the worst! The way you can actually feel the embarrassment of each interaction you doubt...the way those moments sneak up on you when you least expect it... Way to take the summer approach! Stew is definitely too hot for now. You rock.
Posted by: Dafna Michaelson | July 30, 2010 at 08:20 AM
This is a great post Eric and I can't tell you how many times I've done the replay too. This post was like you were in my head.
The best advice a good friend of mine gave me this past January, that you mentioned here as well, was to stop looking for the one and enjoy the dates I was going on and just be open for possibilities. I did just that, went on a few dates, enjoyed myself and then a few weeks later met the guy I am still with now by pure accident. It will happen for you too. That girl is out there...and she'll find you.
Posted by: ShannonNelson | August 07, 2010 at 10:33 AM