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What’s the one constant thing in every relationship you’ve ever had?
You. Or, in my case, me. And events this week have suggested this may not be the best thing in the world.
A couple of weeks ago, I answered a question on a Facebook discussion board. The question was “Why are you single?” My answer was (brutally) honest:
Because I’m a miserable, unsociable git who doesn’t go anywhere to meet anyone but when I do, she turns out to be a psychotic alcoholic with SO many problems that I just couldn’t deal.
Oh, and I’m also terrible to live with.
But apart from that, I really don’t know the reason why I’m still single.
Now, I should probably explain at this point that my ’successes’ with women can be counted on the fingers of one hand, with some left over for spare. Over the years I’ve put this down to a number of things, but I keep coming back to that one constant thing; me.
So when I got a message replying to that post I thought my luck was about to change. An attractive, fun-sounding girl had actually thought this was quite funny and we started to message each other. We talked about all sorts of things, we spoke once on the phone, and we decided that we’d get together.
So far, so great. She seemed really nice, I tried not to sound too boring or geeky (but I think I may have failed on both of those points), she looked really good in all her Facebook pictures, I’d found at least one picture of me that wasn’t too hideous to use as my profile picture, she likes tall men, I’m tall and so on. I was really looking forward to meeting her.
There were two big drawbacks though; the first is that up to this point most of our friendship had been carried out by Facebook message. Having an electronic conversation is not like having a real one - you get time to ponder your reply, to re-write it, to decide not to say that at all, before sending it off out into the ether. This helps enormously when you’re not very good at conversation. The second is that at 5.30 on Saturday I was going to be plunged into “put up or shut up” time.
After a day spent indulging my petrolheadedness at the Speed Trials, I went off to meet her. It was a glorious sunny day, lovely and warm (I looked like a beetroot because I’d been out in it all day, even though I had tried to make an effort to smarten myself up) and she looked a vision as she walked up the road towards me, dressed all in blue and looking summery. It felt like a good start.
We sat outside the pub for a couple of hours and chatted, had a few drinks, the sort of thing you do in a pub. It all seemed, to me, to go quite well. We parted with a hug and went off to our separate plans for the evening.
And this is where it all started to go a bit wrong. Me, being the type of person that I am, rather than just saying “Great to meet you; hope we can do it again soon” jumped in with both feet and sent over-the-top messages later that night. I stopped short of pledging undying love, but only just I fear. Unsurprisingly heard nothing back. So tried again Sunday, with a somewhat toned-down message. And Monday with a question asking what did I do so badly that she didn’t even want to return my messages.
Turns out Saturday hadn’t gone as well as I thought. I’m not great at new social situations; ask anyone who’s known me for any length of time and they’ll probably tell you that it can take years to get to know me. They’ll also tell you I’m a moody git and that so many years of living on my own have not improved the situation. Turns out I came across as negative and bitter, on top of which we didn’t have much in common. To further cock-it-up, because of the over-the-top messages I’d sent, just being friends was now out the window too.
I was so nervous in the days leading up to meeting her. At about 5pm on Saturday, I was ever so quietly having a panic attack. Waiting for her outside the pub I would probably have bolted except for the fact that she’d already called to make sure I was going to be there. I’m was a nervous wreck in the pub; so I drank quite quickly on a pretty much empty stomach, which I’m sure didn’t help. It certainly didn’t help later when I sent those damn messages.
In the following days, when I was getting no replies to my messages, I was getting more and more convinced that I’d done something really bad. To the point where I couldn’t sleep and was physically ill with concern over what it might have been. It’s been a rollercoaster week for sure.
I got a reply today and I’ve just about finished kicking myself for being such a prat. You think back and you think “Oh. Yeah…. damn.” Until it’s pointed out to you, you don’t see it. But once you see it, you think further back and you realise that the one constant thing in every relationship you’ve ever had is you.
Bugger.
Comments
8 Responses to “What’s the one constant thing in every relationship you’ve ever had?”
I think you know what to do....
Wolfs Stuff
Wolfs Helpers
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Don’t be so hard on yourself. If you learnt from the experience then you’ve got something from it!
You’re right, of course. This was written in the few hours after I finally heard from the girl in question and I was still annoyed with myself. Now, with a few more days to think on it, and a couple of good nights sleep, I’m taking it in my stride. It was a fun date (at least for me) and I enjoyed meeting her; the rest I can work on for the next time.
The girl in question hopes you had a nice birthday weekend and wishes you luck on your next date x
Thanks Raych. Yeah, it was a good weekend - really enjoyed it; big four-oh next year - may be forced to have a BIIIIGGGG party!
(Sorry, “girl in question” was a bit dismissive wasn’t it, but I didn’t want to put your name in just in case that offended you.)
okay–maybe this is a bit rude but, this “girl in question” has known you for a while (although not in person) and she didn’t think that the way you acted/talked/whatever seemed a little out of character? Of course, the You on the date might have been The Real You and all that, but she obviously didn’t think you were horrid before meeting you or she wouldn’t have met you at all.
Although I’m not one to ask for a second chance–especially in personal situations–if she’s really all that and a bag of chips, maybe you should see about getting another shot. Since she didn’t manage it on her own, maybe you should help her figure out that first impressions aren’t your exactly forte. Maybe–but that’s only if you think she’s really worth it.
It may be stupid, but I really cannot beleive that she was just ready to toss everything because of all the expertise on you that a couple of drinks gets her…
To be fair, she was right about us having not very much in common so even without the crap first impression and the over-the-top messages, I’m not sure that this was a relationship destined for a long future.
Having said that, it’s a shame that it was so easy for me to cock-it-up. “All that and a bag of chips” she certainly is.
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[...] writing I think; health – my attempts to cut down on my alcohol intake and lose a bit of weight; relationships – and my complete failure at them; and blogging [...]