During the final hours of our weekends together and also every trip ~with the last two trips spanning eight days each, and at least two states each, despite always growing closer up until that time, he would pull away.
I’d inquire. He would deny … then hunt for reasons, excuses, such as, “You buy too much sparkling water, especially the watermelon flavor.”
His comments and actions caused confusion and pain, as if he had literally pushed me out of and away from an embrace that *he* had pulled me into.
Next time, I will run. The first time a man makes me wonder where I stand, the first time he acts like a girl in middle school, that will be the last time he sees me.
Not only will he not see me again, I will leave the moment it happens. I always have a choice.
I always have a *best* choice. On this last New Year’s Eve, I threw a drink in a man’s face. It was obvious; I was upset, pissed. I was expecting an apology or anger, but no, he (and his friend) became sucked up into some sort of lunatic love trance, as if counting my every breath. Another confusing moment.
Next time, with as few words as possible, I will just leave. Leave. Pretty clear message.
For the love of God, I just want to date a man who communicates (honestly), and who is emotionally mature, and available.
