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The first guy I dated was a lesson in all things I did not want to date.

1. He was tragically unintelligent.
2. He had badly dyed hair.
3. He dressed with a flare for style that reminds one of early 90s clublife (bad glittery club shirts, overalls).

The biggest thing was not being smart. So I broke up with him. On the phone.

I had been terribly sick for weeks and was basically homebound. I had just started back at work. He called to invite me to his company's holiday party. I declined.

He said "What am I suppose to do?"
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Well who am I suppose to take?"
"Take someone else." I said casually, meaning one of his friends.
"But I don't want to break up with you." He replies.

...silence...

"James?"

...silence...

Then I say "I don't feel the same way."
"What do you mean?"
"I don't think we should see each other anymore."

He protested a bit and asked me why I was doing this now (he had called me from work), then asked if we could talk about it later. I said that there was nothing else to talk about. It is the break-up that I am least proud of.

I saw him a few times over the next few months as we were in the same circle, then nothing.

I ran into him once a few years after at a bar in West Palm Beach.

and again, today, at work.

I had just gotten back from lunch and was descending the escalators that lead to my office. He was coming in from the Garden when I saw him.

"Hi Mr. James." he said flatly, like we had just seen each other days ago.
"Hey!" I waved and "I'll come back up."

I got back up and hugged him and introduced myself to his boyfriend of five years. It was short and random.

He called and left a voicemail later on giving his hotel and a number if I wanted to get together and "talk."

I didn't.

1 comment:

Kiddo78 said...

JERK!! (Kidding) Sounds like he's still not over it & bitter. That's pretty pathetic...