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so i've been negligent, but only because i wanted to see how this story was going to pan out before i went yapping about it. so here it goes. it all started on the 2nd of July. my friend had a pre-holiday party, and i went. i meant to only stay for an hour or so and then head to this new dance class i'd started, but as fate would have it, there was a boy, and he was cute, and smart, and funny, and he seemed to like ME. holy shit. j-j-j-jackpot! so my one hour turned into 7 hours, and i spent most of the time talking to him or playing with him or against him in some game. toward the end, he asked me what i was doing for the 4th, i said nothing, and he invited me to go with him and his friends (and my friend) to the beach. splendid. fast forward to the end of the night: he walked me to my car, got my number and away i went. when i got home, i realized i had a text from him that said it was great to meet me and he would talk to me soon. yipee skipee!

moving on to the 4th of July. a group of us biked from his house, down to the beach then down the coast, stopping at their friends' beach parties. in all, it was about a 17 mile trip. exhausting but fun. we talked more that day and biked together at times. i played a little football with him at the beach, then ended up throwing the ball around with these other random guys who commented on what a nice spiral i had. he heard it (read: he was totally attracted to me at this point). pause--i feel like, i should give him a name. let's call him dopey--not just because he smokes a lot but because his actions are dopey, as you will see momentarily.

so at about mile 16 my crotch starts to hurt, and he mentioned that his bottom hurt. we decided that instead of biking to the last party, we would detour to his house and get the car, which we did. well, we did the first part. but we never made it to the party because we ended up sitting on his balcony and watching the fireworks while wrapped up in a blanket (ridiculously romantic) and talking...and talking...and talking.... we talked from 8 p.m. to 3 a.m. about the most random things. and he made me laugh. and he made me a turkey burger. and he didn't try anything. he was respectfully affectionate, but he didn't even try to kiss me...until we were in his bed. fully pajama clothed i will say. and even then, the kiss was very pg-13. then we go to sleep.

we wake up the next morning and TALK SOME MORE. no funny business. we lie around for a couple of hours, he offers to take me to my car, but my friend shows up, and i ride with her instead. he walks me to her car, we hug, and then he says, "i'll be in touch." for the first time, in all the hours i've been around him, i'm like "wtf?" "i'll be in touch" sounds like what the head of HR says after an interview when you probably didn't get the job. needless to say, i felt weird about it, but i tried not to let it put a damper on an otherwise delightful weekend.

Monday.
Tuesday.
Wednesday.
Thursday.

by wednesday, i was already convinced that he didn't like me, and that it was going to be another one of those "thank you God for getting my hopes up only to watch me crash and burn. i totally needed that" things. by thursday, i think i was delirious because i don't remember how i felt. i do remember talking to two friends who suggested that i text/call him respectively. based on his response, you will know if it's a yay or nay, they said. and if it's a nay, at least you will know and you can stop torturing yourself. true. and though making the first move goes against my southern principles, i decided to be a 90s woman and call him.

and he actually picked up the phone. and we actually had a decent, though brief, conversation. he was on his way somewhere, but he did ask me what i was doing that weekend and i asked him what he was doing and blah blah he said let's talk tomorrow (friday) and figure something out. sigh of relief. okay, that wasn't so bad. being a 90s woman does have its perks.

Friday.

he called at 9:24 p.m. just late enough for me to consider (and re-consider) that he probably wasn't going to call. but he did, and i felt good b/c it seemed like he might actually be a fellow who sticks to his word. novel idea. we made plans for sunday.

Sunday (july 12...just for reference).

i got over to his house around 2. we hung out on the balcony again and yes, talked some more. then we went to see a movie, came back, hung out more. he cooked dinner, we played thumb war and watched a baseball game on tv. he made smoothies. we kept it PG. i left around 12:30. again, he walked me to my car, and this time he said "later." i can't decide if that was better or worse than "i'll be in touch."

Monday.
Tuesday.
Wednesday.
Thursday.

here we go again. except this time, i had no urge to call. i was just going to see what he did. except i didn't do that. i texted him on thursday because i found out the place he and his roommate were staying in sold, and they had to be out in 30 days. we chatted about 640 characters worth about that, and then i was SERIOUSLY done.

Saturday.

saturday was his birthday. 29th. now once upon a time, when we were lying in bed, he mentioned that he was going to have a party with his friend and that i should come. fast forward to a week later, he said they weren't going to have the party instead they were just going to get a group together and go out, probably to hollywood. so when saturday rolled around and i hadn't heard a peep out of him, i knew i wouldn't be popping out of a makeshift cake with my "happy birthday, cutie" t-shirt on as i'd planned. in fact, i wasn't even sure i would wish him a happy birthday at all. the part of me that had resolved that this was in fact one of those "thanks, God. i'll add this to my douchebag collection" scenarios was like, "screw him. i'm not wishing him a happy birthday. he can bite me!" but the part of me that is a good person retorted, "now, now. that isn't very nice. you can at least say happy birthday since you have spoken about it. and THEN be done with him." as my friend and i were driving that afternoon to pasadena, i asked her what i should do, being that she knew him and had witnessed this debacle from day one (it was at her house that i met him). she said i should text him. which i did. "happy birthday," i said. his response was...
i'll fill that line in, if and when i get a response. ssss...burn. on myself.

Sunday.

yesterday. i'm with this same friend having dinner. i learned that after we had parted ways on Saturday, she and her "new boo" went out and had dinner in honor of dopey's birthday and the other boy's birthday. as we were eating, she said, "oh yeah, dopey asked me where you on Saturday." "what do you mean he asked you where i was?" "he asked me where you were when we were at dinner, and i told him that i'd seen you earlier that day and then i dropped you off." ugh. what do you mean where am i? obviously i'm not where YOU are because you didn't invite me. remember? and if you wanted to see me, maybe you should have called, or texted or sent a fucking carrier pigeon for crying out loud. but obviously, you did not. my friend said that she doesn't think he's a mean-spirited person (i agree) nor does she think he does (not do) the things he does (not do) to be a dick. she thinks he's just....dopey.

whatever the case may be, i've had enough. at first, i'd simply decided that i would totally keep my mouth shut when i meet someone who's a potential (which is sort of what i've been doing anyway). no sense in talking about it when it could very well result in nothing and then you're left explaining to people what happened and why another one bit it. then i decided that i just have to be more positive because clearly my "negativity" is breeding attraction to numbnuts. but it's hard to be really positive when the things you tell yourself you shouldn't think kept being reinforced. you follow? so, ultimately, i've decided that i'm retiring. i'm out the game. i'm hanging up the heavyweight chastity belt. no more boys. no more flirting. no more waiting for phone calls. no more initiating. no more excuses. no more wishful thinking. no more disappointment. i am physically incapable of handling anymore. so i'm done. i'll BE the old cat lady. i don't care.

after dealing with this nonsense and spending all day Saturday and Sunday with three girlfriends, separately, who are in lovely, happy relationships (all of whom i am sincerely happy for), it was just a bit much. too much. and it's not that i don't believe in love and romance and all that stuff b/c i've seen it with my own eyes, and i know people who live it and breathe it, but i, personally, don't feel like sticking my foot in the water anymore. that in itself makes me somewhat sad, but it is what it is, n'est-ce pas? and if i'm going to try to make something of myself career-wise, i can't be mending my heart every five minutes.

and that's the new me, L.A.