I’m sitting on a plane right now headed home for the first time since I visited over the summer and I’m having trouble reconciling how everything can be simultaneously so different, yet exactly the same.
Yesterday was the five-month anniversary of Thompson and I’s first date (Something I didn’t even realize until I was thousands of feet up in the air and miles away from him). I remember that night so well since — while I may be no stranger to the dating scene — it’s a rare occasion when I actually get treated to a real date.
I remember how excited I was to go over to his apartment when I got off work that night. I had gotten all cuted-up and wore one of my favorite dresses, which will now always remind me of that date. (Unfortunately, it will also forever be known as The Dress I Got Roofied In.) I spent my entire shift babbling to the waiters about how cute this guy was and how sweet it was that he wanted to cook for me when I was leaving town two days later for nearly a month.
I was so elated that I even texted my best friend on her vacation to tell her the exciting news. I wrote something to the extent of: “A boy I met at a party on Saturday is cooking me dinner tonight after work! If my drunken memory serves me correct, he’s really cute! I just wish I wasn’t going to Urbana in a couple days.”
Totally harmless, normal text to send to a friend, right?
Except one thing: I accidentally sent it to him.
I, of course, felt like I was going to vomit and thought I had completely embarrassed myself and ruined any chance of me not seeming like an overly-eager, desperate slag.
He was sweet, though and while he poked a little fun at me, he didn’t rub it in my face.
The rest of the date went much better. He had lit candles, we drank wine on the roof, he cooked me curry and we curled up on his couch and watched my favorite TV shows on his computer.
It’s hard to imagine that when I went over there last night we could do almost all the same things, but have it be so completely different. He once again cooked me dinner — this time we enjoyed beer instead of wine — and we curled up on the couch and watched one of my favorite shows which he had just gotten me for Christmas.
Except this time, the date wasn’t filled with the hopeful, happy anticipation you get at the beginning of the new relationship, but with the bittersweet resignation that comes at the end.
After breaking up Tuesday, getting back together on Wednesday, then breaking up again on Friday, it had been rough week for us, to say the least. Sunday was our final goodbye before I headed home and to New Zealand.
Now, here I am again on a plane to Illinois for a couple weeks, wanting to text him to make sure he knows that I’m still thinking about him and won’t forget him while I’m gone. But this time my desire to text him isn’t hampered by the fear of being too clingy, but by the fear of holding on to something that’s over.
Frankly, both scenarios suck.
This is my second break up in a year and I just can’t believe I’m going to be spending another Christmas/New Years alone as a drippy-doodah eating ice cream, indulging in cheap wine and watching empowering chick flicks (already checked The First Wives Club off the list. Waiting to Exhale is next!).
Then again, while I was pretty devastated last winter after breaking up with my boyfriend of three years and losing my good friend Will, I still managed to have a relatively good — albeit wasted — time and I refuse to ring in 2011 all Bridget Jones style. (Unless that means Colin Firth hitting on me in an adorably hideous reindeer sweater. I wouldn’t mind ending my year on a note like that.)
So while I might not be the most holly-jolly Christmas spirit this season, I will not let this break up ruin the most wonderful time of the year. Especially over a guy who has never even seen The Grinch! Once I learned that, I realized we never really had any chance of a future anyways.
That's not to say that I didn't and still don't care about him a lot. We were just completely incompatible. See?
When he was happy, I was passed out. When I was happy, he was making sad diva faces. It was like The Lake House — we were just never in the same place at the same time.
But there is one silver lining when comparing our last date to our first. While I may have gotten a pretty great relationship out of our first date, I got a Snuggie out of our last! And c’mon. Be honest, which would you really rather have?
Which will not only keep your body warm at night, but also your arms?!? Which will not misplace the remote, but actually help you keep track of it since you can just keep it in the handy pocket along with all your hard candies and chapstick?!?
Find me a boyfriend that can do all that, and I think you’ll have found me a husband.
So get ready readers, for the newly-single Sadie’s upcoming Divorced/Dumped Celebrity Dating List. Because now that they’re single and I’m single, I think 2011 is going to be our year to mingle! (That’s right, Zac Efron. I’m talking ‘bout you.)
Plus, I’m just about to have a lot of free time on my hands and I need something to do. Bitch is the new black, and blog is the new boyfriend.