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Hey, I can be a ***** when I want!
Ok, I'm sure many here are saying "no duh," but IRL I tend to avoid confrontation unless it's with someone I know very well (like mom and dad!).
The background is that back in March I met this guy at a local gay bar, and we hit it off right away. Had some dates that went really well, and it became a fairly serious relationship quickly. Now, he's 43, so there was certainly an age difference. When I first saw him, I thought he was 28-29ish, as he looks quite young for his age.
Anyway, it was with this fellow that I went to London, against my better judgement, back at the end of May. I had originally told him no when he asked me to go, but he bought me a ticket as a surprise, and I then just decided it was something I couldn't pass up.
Before the London trip, he got weird. Let's call him, from now on, "Dingus." (I think you can sense the direction this will take). Dingus became fairly unresponsive about 2 weeks prior to the trip. I'm not a codependent type at all, but even I was concerned about his being remote and not responding to calls and cancelling dates at the last minute. I then happened to run into Dingus at a lunch place near my office (he works a few blocks away), and we had lunch together. He explained his remoteness by saying his brother, who is handicapped and institutionalized, was very ill, in a coma and they were worried he was going to die. Fair enough, I can understand, but I expressed that I wish he would at least just call, if just for a minute, to say that rather than keeping me flapping in the wind.
Shortly before the planned trip, Dingus's brother awoke from his coma, was stable and everything was ok. Yay, so off to London we went!
I had a great time in London. Dingus and I had one tiff, but that's not bad considering we spent a week together. It wasn't that major anyway. I was, however, irked that he chose to smoke in our room, since he went to the trouble of requesting a nonsmoking room for my supposed benefit anyway. Regardless, I had to leave earlier than he, so we said our goodbyes. He asked me to call when I landed, and I asked him to call when he got to NY as well.
So, once I got back to the U.S. I dutifully left a message on his cell that I was home safe and sound. This was Thursday, and he was due back Saturday. Sunday roles around, and he hasn't called me. Well, I'm sure Dingus was tired and recovering. The work week goes by, and he doesn't contact me. I call his cell phone, just get his voicemail, and then call his work number--and his message still says he is out on vacation.
By the time it gets to the next Sunday, I'm pretty worried that something happened to him. So I left a concerned message, just asking him to call. The next whole week went by, and again no contact. I am irked. I'm not heartbroken, as I wasn't in love with him, but I am just mad that he hasn't contacted me. Considering Dingus's previous behavior, I have reason to suspect he's just being avoidant.
I finally left him a frank message, over two weeks after last seeing him, that I could tell something was up. I expressed worry something had happened to him, but add that if that isn't the case he should have the guts to at least call me and say so.
Well, that's where I left it, and there was nothing from Dingus whatsoever after that.
This Saturday I was out with my friend Matt, and we happened to be at the same bar where I met Dingus so many moons ago. We're sitting near the front, when who should walk in? Dingus! Considering it was just 11 PM, which is very early for NY gay bars, the place wasn't crowded, so I don't think he could have not seen me. But he beelined to the back of the bar.
Matt asked if I wanted to leave. Naturally, the thought didn't cross my mind! No, I said, why would I run away from this? That's exactly what I was mad about!
So I get up go to the back, and there Dingus is, having struck up a conversation with a couple of guys that looked about my age. His back is to me, so I tap him on the shoulder.
Dingus turns around and gives me the biggest hello you could imagine: "Heyyyyyyyy, how are ya?!" in an overfriendly voice, and extends his hand to shake mine. What the hell, a handshake? Like I'm his buddy? But he leans in and whispers into my ear, "I bet you wanna kill me, I know."
I just smile and say, "No, I don't want to kill you. I'll just embarrass you." I then walked up to the guys to whom he was talking, introduced myself, told them Dingus and I used to date, and then told them the London story and his behavior.
Dingus stood to the side, and I could just feel him squirming. When I said we had dated for 3 months, he interjected: "Well, more like 2 1/2." Yeah, that makes you look good--dismissing it as a serious relationship, even though we went to freakin' London together.
When I got to the post-London silence, he leaned in and said in my ear "You're not gonna tell them what happened before we have a chance to talk about it, honey?"
Excuse me? You had 2 months to talk to me about it, jackass. Now you're willing to discuss it, that I've cornered you in a bar?
So I tell the guys about it. They are suitably appalled. One of them just keeps repeating "that's so callous!" The other expresses what I was thinking, that if you want to end a relationship, at least say something, don't ignore the person! Dingus tried to interject again saying, "Well, there were circumstances..." I didn't have to say anything, as one of them says, "Oh, that's such a cop out!" Unless the circumstances were coma from which you just awakened that morning, what could rationalize it?
Having said my peace, I turned to Dingus, gave him a hearty, friendly pat on the shoulder and said, "Have a good night!" As I walked away, he called after me with an "Awww, Mark!" in a tone as if I was somehow the unreasonable party.
Well, there you have it, folks. Sometimes we can get our Dixie Carter moments!
The background is that back in March I met this guy at a local gay bar, and we hit it off right away. Had some dates that went really well, and it became a fairly serious relationship quickly. Now, he's 43, so there was certainly an age difference. When I first saw him, I thought he was 28-29ish, as he looks quite young for his age.
Anyway, it was with this fellow that I went to London, against my better judgement, back at the end of May. I had originally told him no when he asked me to go, but he bought me a ticket as a surprise, and I then just decided it was something I couldn't pass up.
Before the London trip, he got weird. Let's call him, from now on, "Dingus." (I think you can sense the direction this will take). Dingus became fairly unresponsive about 2 weeks prior to the trip. I'm not a codependent type at all, but even I was concerned about his being remote and not responding to calls and cancelling dates at the last minute. I then happened to run into Dingus at a lunch place near my office (he works a few blocks away), and we had lunch together. He explained his remoteness by saying his brother, who is handicapped and institutionalized, was very ill, in a coma and they were worried he was going to die. Fair enough, I can understand, but I expressed that I wish he would at least just call, if just for a minute, to say that rather than keeping me flapping in the wind.
Shortly before the planned trip, Dingus's brother awoke from his coma, was stable and everything was ok. Yay, so off to London we went!
I had a great time in London. Dingus and I had one tiff, but that's not bad considering we spent a week together. It wasn't that major anyway. I was, however, irked that he chose to smoke in our room, since he went to the trouble of requesting a nonsmoking room for my supposed benefit anyway. Regardless, I had to leave earlier than he, so we said our goodbyes. He asked me to call when I landed, and I asked him to call when he got to NY as well.
So, once I got back to the U.S. I dutifully left a message on his cell that I was home safe and sound. This was Thursday, and he was due back Saturday. Sunday roles around, and he hasn't called me. Well, I'm sure Dingus was tired and recovering. The work week goes by, and he doesn't contact me. I call his cell phone, just get his voicemail, and then call his work number--and his message still says he is out on vacation.
By the time it gets to the next Sunday, I'm pretty worried that something happened to him. So I left a concerned message, just asking him to call. The next whole week went by, and again no contact. I am irked. I'm not heartbroken, as I wasn't in love with him, but I am just mad that he hasn't contacted me. Considering Dingus's previous behavior, I have reason to suspect he's just being avoidant.
I finally left him a frank message, over two weeks after last seeing him, that I could tell something was up. I expressed worry something had happened to him, but add that if that isn't the case he should have the guts to at least call me and say so.
Well, that's where I left it, and there was nothing from Dingus whatsoever after that.
This Saturday I was out with my friend Matt, and we happened to be at the same bar where I met Dingus so many moons ago. We're sitting near the front, when who should walk in? Dingus! Considering it was just 11 PM, which is very early for NY gay bars, the place wasn't crowded, so I don't think he could have not seen me. But he beelined to the back of the bar.
Matt asked if I wanted to leave. Naturally, the thought didn't cross my mind! No, I said, why would I run away from this? That's exactly what I was mad about!
So I get up go to the back, and there Dingus is, having struck up a conversation with a couple of guys that looked about my age. His back is to me, so I tap him on the shoulder.
Dingus turns around and gives me the biggest hello you could imagine: "Heyyyyyyyy, how are ya?!" in an overfriendly voice, and extends his hand to shake mine. What the hell, a handshake? Like I'm his buddy? But he leans in and whispers into my ear, "I bet you wanna kill me, I know."
I just smile and say, "No, I don't want to kill you. I'll just embarrass you." I then walked up to the guys to whom he was talking, introduced myself, told them Dingus and I used to date, and then told them the London story and his behavior.
Dingus stood to the side, and I could just feel him squirming. When I said we had dated for 3 months, he interjected: "Well, more like 2 1/2." Yeah, that makes you look good--dismissing it as a serious relationship, even though we went to freakin' London together.
When I got to the post-London silence, he leaned in and said in my ear "You're not gonna tell them what happened before we have a chance to talk about it, honey?"
Excuse me? You had 2 months to talk to me about it, jackass. Now you're willing to discuss it, that I've cornered you in a bar?
So I tell the guys about it. They are suitably appalled. One of them just keeps repeating "that's so callous!" The other expresses what I was thinking, that if you want to end a relationship, at least say something, don't ignore the person! Dingus tried to interject again saying, "Well, there were circumstances..." I didn't have to say anything, as one of them says, "Oh, that's such a cop out!" Unless the circumstances were coma from which you just awakened that morning, what could rationalize it?
Having said my peace, I turned to Dingus, gave him a hearty, friendly pat on the shoulder and said, "Have a good night!" As I walked away, he called after me with an "Awww, Mark!" in a tone as if I was somehow the unreasonable party.
Well, there you have it, folks. Sometimes we can get our Dixie Carter moments!
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