Almost Perfect

For our last date, Boat Boy and I got takeout, headed back to my place and played Scrabble. How cute is that? And completely his idea. Also, before coming over to my apartment, he made sure to clean out all his boat supplies from his backpack, since he “…was not sure what the Single Girls’ Handbook would say about someone showing up with a bag full of knives and rope.” He has a great sense of humor, he is an absolute sweetheart, we agree on just about everything, and he is a great kisser.

And I’m just not into him.

Ugh. I wish I could be. But the connection just isn’t there. The conversation isn’t there. We take turns speaking, with long pauses between. Now that we have gone out on quite a few dates I can rule out first date nerves, the boringness of being on one’s best behavior, and his being stunned by my stupefying beauty. Or hideousness. Really, the effect is about the same.

So, time to wish Boat Boy well as he sails into the sunset. Since the conversation wasn’t there, I wouldn’t have known how into me he was if it were not for the Power of the Digital Age. He changed his online dating profile to “Seeing someone.” Yeah. I know. Someone? That was me.

I know there is a grey area between “not going on another date” and “breaking up,” but this seemed to pull me straight out of that grey area and into having to break up with him. After five dates.

Okay, I’m not really bitter. Breaking up just sucks.

I called him and I think I did everything that I was supposed to do: I was honest, I was straightforward, I was heartfelt. He tried to talk me out of it and tried to blame himself. He was disappointed, and said so in exactly those terms, but eventually resigned himself to the unilateral decision I had made. He did the “Thanks for everything” signoff, didn’t believe me when I said that Madison single girls are looking for a great guy with green eyes, and that was that.

I hung up and curled up on my floor and cried. Not a lot, but still. I know this is all part of the dating scene. Since most dates prove to be ill-matched, sometimes it’s mutual, sometimes you get hurt, and sometimes you hurt them. It’s just…hurting somebody? Well, it hurts.