What Makes Us Click? – Part 1

Girl Meets Boy

Once upon a time I met a guy. He was loud and energetic and his presence was all over the bar. His personality seemed wild and out of control. I must have been out of control too when I approached him but he was friendly and fun!

The next day, he contacted me and we ended up chatting for hours. I enjoyed the hell out of talking to him and invited him to join me at the Mezi Ploty festival in my neighborhood the following day. His response: “Hell yea!”

He was running nearly two hours late and his embarrassment was tangible. It was precious. He must have apologized about a thousand times. But soon enough it was my turn to be embarrassed… At the festival, we ran into this guy McCartney that I’d been seeing shortly before him, and we hadn’t exactly ended on a good note… As it turned out, the two knew each other. Of course! Expats. Musicians. As my date described it, on a scale of 1-10, the awkwardness was about an 11 – and that was being polite. I felt awful, but he stayed by my side and decided, “Let’s get the fuck out of here and have a shot somewhere.” We had some drinks, we shared stories of our lives, we joked around… He made me feel alive and carefree like no one else had in awhile.

The next day he wrote me that it would be better if we didn’t see each other anymore. I said that I understood and was on board. It sounded reasonable since there was something in his history that could complicate things. Only two or three hours later, I got another message from him: “You know what? Whatever happens today doesn’t count, let’s meet!” I had friends over for lunch at the time. I was working on my second bottle of wine and was feeling all YOLO when agreed, “Let’s do it!” We met up the same evening.

Hanging out was a fantasy! He made me feel like a real princess. The next day, he invited me to go swimming, and I wrote back, “Enjoy going to the lake! I wish I could join, but I’m stuck at work”, and he flipped out. Don’t bother looking for anything offensive in that line –  there is nothing there. However, it triggered him into telling me that the way I live my life is pathetic. One part of me was pissed off. Who was he to judge me?! But… what if my life was pathetic? He was so convincing that I had to consult with a friend, “Am I crazy or is he?” She reassured me that I was off the hook.

I ran into him the following day at a bus station, heading to the same event I was. He was all cool, all smiles and happy to see me. I was confused. At the bar, he spent the night being the loud and obnoxious version of himself and ostentatiously flirting with another girl and then… he took me home.

Who is the crazy person now, huh? I tried to remember how these things work. I had been out of the dating scene for ages… What if I had just misjudged him and the situation? After all, he took such good care of me. He cuddled me and told me that I was beautiful inside and out, he got up early to make me breakfast even though he isn’t a breakfast-person and he offered to walk me to the metro, and when I refused he wished me a great day and waved at me from his balcony, smiling like an idiot till I was out of sight. He excelled at reeling me in just to stab me in the back.

Later that day, I was in disgrace again. I was tired of his hot and cold behavior. I was done with him. But he wasn’t done with me. I didn’t want to date him, but he found a way around it. Let’s just hang out at his place; we’ll have fun! I hesitated, but the offer eventually found its way through the loophole. He said I was in for a treat. Whoop, Whoop! I started to shiver with anticipation.

Later that night, I was sitting at the bar, sipping my wine while waiting for him to finish with his band practice. He came to pick me up and offered to pay for my drink before taking off, and I thought it was kind of him. I noticed he didn’t tip, so I smiled at him and said, “Thank you for the drink; let me get the tip.” I left some coins at the bar, slipped on my coat and followed him out to the street.

He zipped up his jacket and said, “Fuck off, I’m going home”, and started striding away. I just stood there, stunned. Seconds later, I was able to move again. I tried to catch up to him. “Are you joking?” I was still hoping I didn’t get his humor. He kept marching while yelling, “No fucking bitch will tell me how to live my life and how much I should tip!” Shit, the change at the bar! My self-respect bailed on me. I tried to explain myself, to apologize, to understand; eventually I gave up following him like a maniac and went home. Back at my place, I grabbed a bottle of wine and fell to the ground. I was chugging it straight from the bottle and typing down all my sorrow and anger to my best friend…

Part 2 – Behind the Scenes