Fu Attempts Chicanery; Fails

So...apparently I do not make a very good cad.

I've been pseudo-dating an ex of mine.

I ran into him at a bar a few weeks ago.

First, the background.

I dated this guy for a while waaaay back in 2003. He was okay, a very nice guy but....was odd. He was neighbors with my favorite couple at the time, my dear friend and her then-boyfriend (now hubby). He was WAY into me, and since my self esteem at the time (at the time? Okay always) landed somehwere in the "eh" range, I was receptive to him and all his advances. Plus, he was six-foot-five with a rocking body, and great in bed.

What? I'm only human, after all.

Now, 2003 was a "bad" year for me. Bad is in quotes because socially? It was freaking GREAT year for me. I was the thinnest I've ever been, ridiculously cute, single, young (23), living in a super-fun house with my buddy Mikey and a couple others, partying non-stop, hooking up, having fun, etc. etc. etc.

But technically, in the grand scheme of things, it was pretty bad becuase I did not have a steady job the whole year. I filled out, seriously, five (FIVE!) W-2 forms for the year 2003. I was adrift.

So, I was seeing this guy on and off all that summer. Late that September, I got fired from my silly job as a receptionist at a dentist's office (I know!), and didn't have the first clue what to do (I was apparently "not friendly enough" to all the surly customers who didn't understand why their three root canals were not fully covered by insurance. Not friendly enough? Moi? Look people, fact of life: dental insurance SUCKS. The usual yearly max is $1000, which if you get two cleanings and maybe a filling or two is fine. But if you need even one root canal? Caps cost $900. That's your whole benefit. Any more than that and you're stuck thinking the nice dentist that gave you the balloon is going to send some balloon-yeilding thugs to your door who will start breaking thumbs. That's just the way it is. But apparently, it's not very "friendly.") I decided to move.

My friend had recently moved to my college home, Washington DC. And she said, "Damnit Fu, why are you wasting your political science degree as a dental receptionist in freaking New Hampshire? Move to Washington!!!"

She was insanely right, so I packed up and moved, severance check in hand, less than a week later.

Without telling the guy.

Look, I know it makes me an asshole...But he was just way more into me than I was to him, and he was so sweet, and I didn't want to deal with the conversation.

And so it went that on my third night in Washington, he called.

"Fu! It's So-and-so."
"Oh...hi."
"I was about to get something to eat, should I come by and pick you up??"
"Well...I can't."
"Oh, okay."
"I'm in DC."
"Oh! How long are you there for?"
"Well...forever."
"Oh. You mean like, you moved?"
"Um...yes."
"Oh. Okay. Well maybe I can come visit you sometime?"
"Suuuuuure...um...I'll call you!"

Never talked to the guy again. Saw him briefly when I was forced to fly home a couple weeks later to spend a few days at my parents' house--I had run out of friends' couches to crash on and my parents figured that spending 100 dollars to fly me home for a few days while I waited to hear back from job interviews was cheaper than floating me the several-million dollars a hotel would have required. It was, well, awkward.

Then I really never talked to him again, fell in love with a great guy in the DC-area, had visions of marriage and babies, got a great job and was basically a happy dappy little DC-chickie for the following three years.

Last year, I had suffered a painful breakup with the guy, seen my job go in a direction I was unsatisfied with, and was experiencing a "general malaise" that alcohol didn't seem to make better, no matter how much of it I drank (or how many ensuing pounds I gained...*cough*40*cough).

So I fled back to NH for a great job opportunity.

And her I am in Fabulous Manch Vegas, and who do I run into?

2003 Love Puppy.

He is deliiiighted to see Fu, and is oblivious to not only the fact that I dumped him in a pretty brutal way, but also to the *cough*40*cough pounds. It's the mother-lode!

Only problem?

I'm still insanely not that into him. I don't know what it is! He's still tall and fit, and funny and friendly...there's just no *there* there.

But I date him anyway (read: He honestly is some of the best I've ever had in, um, that department).

This goes on for a couple weeks.

We had plans this past Sunday, which I cancelled.

I call him Tuesday to make it up, feeling guilty that he sounded so sad that I had bailed. We chat for a while.

"So, maybe we should get together again and do something."
"Ummmm..."
"So..."
"Well........."
"Well, we don't have to..."
"No no..um, maybe next week?"

It was TUESDAY.

"Um..okay!"
"Okay. So, I'll call you?"
"Okay..."

I did not get to Manch Vegas by way of the turnip truck people.

I have no doubt in my mind that I will not be hearing from Love Puppy 2003 again, ever. My guess is that he picked up on the fact that I was just using him as a Love Toy/Self Esteem Booster, and decided that my big ole ass just wasn't worth the hassle.

Plus, some teensy-tiny chickie was all over his shit at the bar the other night, and while he totally blew her off I saw her ENTER HER NUMBER IN HIS PHONE before he blew her off. So I'm betting he's discovered thinner pastures.

I've been dumped by someone I wasn't even all that interested in.

THIS, my friends, is a new level of pathetic.

Rock bottom....a hundred feet of crap...then Fu. Oy.

(The worst part is that the fucker was starting to grow on me. I mean, so tall!!! Shoulders like concrete! Who cares that he doesn't have furniture!)