One of my exes thinks I’m too emotional because I get stressed out when my cars die.
The man I was with after him thinks I’m emotionally repressed, that the only reason we’re broken up is because I was raised by alcoholics (because in his version of the story, we’re perfect together in every way), and that I’m high maintenance because I didn’t want to sleep in a car for three days at a Shakespeare festival (I insisted on a hostel instead).
In my version of the story, both of these men are wrong.
We all have our narrative about our relationships.
In my own narratives here, I’ve mentioned the narratives of the men who talk to me–the guy who thinks I’m “crazy” because I called him out on putting up a model’s picture instead of his own; the guy who thinks I’m a racist because I didn’t want a second date; etc.
Usually, those alternate reality narratives are just funny.
And then, sometimes, they’re not.
I went out on several dates with a guy I really liked, and he seemed to really like me too.
One Thursday, we were texting/flirting.
On that Friday, I asked him out on a date for the next night.
He told me he’d made a date with someone else since I’d ignored his text asking for a date on Thursday night.
I never got that text.
Of course, I searched my phone. I searched my mind. How many times had I dropped it that day?* Could something have happened if I was erasing a text from another friend and that one came in at the same time? (My phone, a really old flip phone, has trouble when I’m in text when someone sends me another one.)
I called and left a message apologizing.
I also apologized by text, explaining that I would have definitely gone out with him–and answered him as a matter of course–if I’d gotten the message.
He didn’t answer.
And I was thrown–I’d been the one who instigated our dates. I’d been the opposite of stand-offish. Why would he think I suddenly became a bitch who would just ignore him?
On that Sunday, I sent him another message, explaining that while I didn’t know what happened to the message, I did know I liked him a lot.
He told me he didn’t know why I was lying–that his phone told him I got the message. He said he wasn’t interested in my games.
Of course, I have my own narrative about all this–he must have been really hurt by someone before.
In the words of my therapist, his response is “diagnosable.”
Usually, diagnosable responses to me/my words are easily tossed aside. Hell, I’m going to be using the story of the guy who thinks I’m a racist in my stand-up routine this Thursday.**
It’s different, though, because I liked this guy. I care about what he thinks of me.
I care that there’s a narrative out there about me that so different from my own.
*Yes, he knows I have an old flip phone. When I showed it to him on our first date, I told him that I have it because I drop it all the time.
**My students have their stand-up final this Thursday, from 1-3 in 6 Wellman. As usual, I’m opening for them. As usual, you’re all invited.
