Love Karma
I happen to believe that everything in life is connected. One good deed spawns another; every action has a reaction; cause and effect. And the same can be said about our love lives. Truly, it can.
I remember the very first time I was approached by a guy. It was the very day my middle sister Pily flew to Milan to start her two year program in interior architecture. My sister and I were never that close (I was always closest to our older sister Cristiane, who I saw as my very best friend), but that morning before she flew away, there was something final in her departure. It was almost like I knew that her future lay in Europe; and it did! She now lives in Germany with her husband and beautiful daughter, but even on that September morning, I was aware that the Pied Piper was calling her home. It was all very traumatic to me, but I didn't understand where my surge of emotions was coming from.
So, there I was: at the TD bank, waiting for my parents to drive me to school. I was seventeen, puffy-eyed from all the crying, and completely miserable. I didn't see Dan sit in the chair next to me, but when he asked me if I'd "been waiting long", I quickly sat upright and turned my attention to him. He was cute. Really cute. Had a stocky build and stick straight brown hair tucked under a faded blue baseball cap. Seventeen-year-old me was shocked out of her misery and we started to chat. He told me he worked as a sheet metal worker and was 18. Told me he was waiting for his boss to be finished so they could go back to work. In exchange, I told him I was waiting for my parents to drive me to my computer class.
He was sweet and was paying attention to me; I wasn't used to that! So when he gave me his number, I balked. Surely there had to be a string attached somewhere... He left soon after he gave me his number and I was left feeling bewildered and flattered. What was I supposed to do with a boy's cell phone number?!
I didn't remain in the dark for very long, though, 'cause Jenn was kind enough to tell me what to do the moment I got to school. "You have to call him, Marcie," she said. "You have to. The ball is in your court. You have to."
And trust me when I say that the expression "ball in your court" has haunted me since then. But more on that later.
So when she and Nicole came over to my house later that night, they goaded me into calling him and inviting him out with us. Now, keep in mind I was seventeen, impressionable (read: prone to crumbling to peer pressure), and really concerned with this guy liking me.
One phone call later, he joined us (yes, as in me and others) for coffee on Whyte Ave. and proceeded to do the following date no-nos:
So having said all of this, I was faced with a similar scenario yesterday: I had to decline a second date with a really sweet guy.
On our date, he was a gentleman and he was a sweetheart, but there was something about our interactions that felt forced and stilted. And while it was difficult for me to say "thanks, but no thanks" to him, I knew I owed it to him to be honest and direct. His reply was both mature and sweet; I wasn't prepared for him to thank me for my honesty, but I'll admit that his words of thanks immediately soothed my grieved soul.
It takes a lot to ask someone out or to willingly hand over the ball to someone. I will admit that I feel most at ease when the ball is in my court. I hate it when someone has my number, but I don't have theirs. I hate when someone makes vague plans with me without any follow-through. In both of those cases, the ball is in their court and that makes me nervous. It's at those times I feel like a helpless passenger in the car they're driving. I loathe it for so many reasons, but the main reasons are: I don't like rejecting anyone and I despise being the recipient of passive rejection.
I can only hope that if I'm ever in a similar situation with a man I like, that he'll show me the same respect and compassion I showed yesterday morning. No one likes to be led on. It's way too easy for me to get high hopes and, unless someone tells me directly that they don't want to see me again in a romantic capacity, I won't get the hint.
So, Universe: I beg of you, I need actual verbal confirmation. I am learning. I am trying. But I don't want my Love Karma to suffer from me declining this date. I'd like to think that I've matured since Dan. I'd like to think I handled this recent declination with tact and respect and kindness. Please ensure I get the same treatment.
I remember the very first time I was approached by a guy. It was the very day my middle sister Pily flew to Milan to start her two year program in interior architecture. My sister and I were never that close (I was always closest to our older sister Cristiane, who I saw as my very best friend), but that morning before she flew away, there was something final in her departure. It was almost like I knew that her future lay in Europe; and it did! She now lives in Germany with her husband and beautiful daughter, but even on that September morning, I was aware that the Pied Piper was calling her home. It was all very traumatic to me, but I didn't understand where my surge of emotions was coming from.
So, there I was: at the TD bank, waiting for my parents to drive me to school. I was seventeen, puffy-eyed from all the crying, and completely miserable. I didn't see Dan sit in the chair next to me, but when he asked me if I'd "been waiting long", I quickly sat upright and turned my attention to him. He was cute. Really cute. Had a stocky build and stick straight brown hair tucked under a faded blue baseball cap. Seventeen-year-old me was shocked out of her misery and we started to chat. He told me he worked as a sheet metal worker and was 18. Told me he was waiting for his boss to be finished so they could go back to work. In exchange, I told him I was waiting for my parents to drive me to my computer class.
He was sweet and was paying attention to me; I wasn't used to that! So when he gave me his number, I balked. Surely there had to be a string attached somewhere... He left soon after he gave me his number and I was left feeling bewildered and flattered. What was I supposed to do with a boy's cell phone number?!
I didn't remain in the dark for very long, though, 'cause Jenn was kind enough to tell me what to do the moment I got to school. "You have to call him, Marcie," she said. "You have to. The ball is in your court. You have to."
And trust me when I say that the expression "ball in your court" has haunted me since then. But more on that later.
So when she and Nicole came over to my house later that night, they goaded me into calling him and inviting him out with us. Now, keep in mind I was seventeen, impressionable (read: prone to crumbling to peer pressure), and really concerned with this guy liking me.
One phone call later, he joined us (yes, as in me and others) for coffee on Whyte Ave. and proceeded to do the following date no-nos:
- He insulted both of my friends (Nicole was a "blockhead" and Jenn a "gold digger").
- He bragged about how much money he made.
- He assumed that he and I were automatically a couple.
I know these aren't major offenses, but when you're seventeen and confused (read: looking for an excuse not to like the guy you're on a date with), you'll look for any reason to avoid dating a guy you don't really like, but are too chicken to tell off.
So, like the emotionally immature and insensitive seventeen-year-old I was, I was annoyed when he asked for my number (poor Dan thought the date went well). I gave it to him, though, because Jenn insisted the ball needed to be in his court, too. And boy, did I ever regret this decision. A few days after our date, Dan phoned me. A lot. I screened most of his calls, but my mom convinced me to answer one of them.
Ugh.
What I did that night is a memory that will forever make me cringe.
I answered the phone.
He proceeded to ask me out.
I yelled at him.
I told him to never ever ever call me again.
I hung up on him before he could even reply.
And I proceeded to cry.
For the rest of the night.
For the rest of the night.
The shame I felt that night will always make me cringe; remembering it fills me with a surge of second-hand embarrassment that's so acute -- so very real to me -- that I want to hide under my desk and never resurface. It's not a happy memory and I'll admit that I convinced myself that my romantic dry spell was caused by my inability to be honest with myself and Dan from the beginning. That my actions towards Dan (leading him on [though unintentionally] and not knowing how to say "no") deducted many Love Karma moneys from my Love Karma bank account.
On our date, he was a gentleman and he was a sweetheart, but there was something about our interactions that felt forced and stilted. And while it was difficult for me to say "thanks, but no thanks" to him, I knew I owed it to him to be honest and direct. His reply was both mature and sweet; I wasn't prepared for him to thank me for my honesty, but I'll admit that his words of thanks immediately soothed my grieved soul.
It takes a lot to ask someone out or to willingly hand over the ball to someone. I will admit that I feel most at ease when the ball is in my court. I hate it when someone has my number, but I don't have theirs. I hate when someone makes vague plans with me without any follow-through. In both of those cases, the ball is in their court and that makes me nervous. It's at those times I feel like a helpless passenger in the car they're driving. I loathe it for so many reasons, but the main reasons are: I don't like rejecting anyone and I despise being the recipient of passive rejection.
I can only hope that if I'm ever in a similar situation with a man I like, that he'll show me the same respect and compassion I showed yesterday morning. No one likes to be led on. It's way too easy for me to get high hopes and, unless someone tells me directly that they don't want to see me again in a romantic capacity, I won't get the hint.
So, Universe: I beg of you, I need actual verbal confirmation. I am learning. I am trying. But I don't want my Love Karma to suffer from me declining this date. I'd like to think that I've matured since Dan. I'd like to think I handled this recent declination with tact and respect and kindness. Please ensure I get the same treatment.
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