Back by popular demand, (or the unfortunate popularity of this particular method that guys seem to feel is an acceptable way to break up with someone….) we have another installment of “Ghost Stories: I’m Afraid of Ghosts and Dating is Horrible: Part 2 of Infinity.” I figured I would just go straight to the most egregious scenario I’ve found myself in, where a guy I had been seeing “casually” (aka, WHAT THE EFF IS THIS RELATIONSHIP…I mean, we’re cool, we’re cool…) for 6 MONTHS suddenly stopped communicating with me, after we met for a lively game of tennis and a post-match fro-yo. (Which I paid for, as evidenced by the credit card charge a month later that sent me back into an angsty emotional mood spiral, which required more fro-yo.) Let’s meet….Casper #2!
Whew, what a match! Casper #2 thought, hanging up his tennis racket and wiping the sweat from his brow. Who needs to remember the score when Alyssa and I are so easily matched–as tennis partners, and as dating partners. What a six months it’s been! Nothing is confusing about this scenario at all, and the fact that we’re both so casual and cool and refuse to identify any feelings we may be having about anything is just a really great, healthy way to carry on relationships. Thumbs up for us and our adult choices.
Man, that frozen yogurt was really good, and how awesome for Alyssa to pay because it’s 2016 and this is an equal dating situation. Although I do sort of regret making a big deal about that by asking her five times if she was totally sure she wanted to pay, and making it sound like a really big deal and the tenant from which I’m judging the future of this relationship. It’s froyo, let’s be chill about it! (Puns, yea!) Blame it on my post-workout endorphins!
But actually, one other small detail I may have neglected to mention is that eating frozen yogurt after I play tennis, and only in this very specific scenario, makes me completely melt into a puddle and disappear forever. It’s like Wizard of Oz, but with ice cream. So I guess this is the end of this relationship, and since the melting process is already starting, there’s just no time to text her and explain. She’ll understand. She’s been really casual about the whole thing. Whoops, there go my legs!
What’s My Age: 3, when I first realized I was not a “casual person” and have been living that charade for the rest of my days.