Have you ever been with someone who made you glitter? I hadn’t until I met this guy, (we’ll call him Mr. Six Pack) back in May. I knew just from the messages we’d exchanged on the dating app we initially made contact that I wanted something with him. How I knew from a few days of exchanging messages is something I can’t fully articulate. I mean, I could say it was because he didn’t try to talk to me about sex before we’d even met. Or because he contacted me consistently. Sure, those things played a role, but it was more than that. Something I don’t quite have the words for except… I just knew.
About six weeks after we met, we started dating even though the first time we met in person he told me he wasn’t looking for a girlfriend. That’s a whole different story. What’s relevant to this part is that we dated for about two months and even though we couldn’t see each other as much as we both would have liked, the time we did spend together was fantastic. Being around him was just… easy. I was funny with him, or he was just into me enough that he laughed at me more than I’m accustomed to and definitely more than I deserved. Either way, I’ve never laughed so much with a guy in my life. And for those of you wondering, about the sex? Well, to quote him, “Sex is a sport and I excel at sports.” This is a truth I can attest to.
The Break-Up
After two months of dating and another month of limbo and uncertainty, we broke up. It was the worst kind of break up too. I mean, a break-up is never a great experience. At some point or another, a break-up hurts even amicable ones. (I’ll have a lot more on amicable break-ups in a future piece). When a guy is an asshole though, it makes it much easier to get over him. In fact, over the years, I’ve developed the ability to be over a man almost instantly if he’s sufficiently douchey.
This was not one of those break ups. This was the kind where you’re into each other and you’re great together but the timing is all wrong. Which means all the feels I had developed for him over those few months, haven’t gone away. They’re… lingering… like the scent of freshly baked cookies in a home or salt on a sea breeze. I’m moping or pining by any stretch of the imagination. I’m trying to move on. But the truth is we spent three months confirming what I knew even before that first walk. I wanted him then and I want him now.
Post Break-Up
A couple of years ago, I went through this kick where I thought I was going to be really into nail art. I got really good at doing my nails and bout all this stuff (including a crap ton of glitter) before realizing this hobby was not going to be a thing. While Mr. Six Pack and I were still together, I told him I wanted his girls to have the bunch of it. Even though we had broken up, I knew I still wanted them to have it. When we were breaking up, I told him I would bring it by later in the month. I had texted him the day of to let him know I wanted to come by. He wasn’t around when I got to his place and weeks later, I still can’t decide if I was more disappointed or relieved that he wasn’t home.
Up to that point, I thought I had been doing okay at getting over him. I had cried for a couple of days and then I willed myself to snap out of it. Two days is all the overwhelming sadness I had for him for a bunch of reasons which I may or may not share one day. I had some rough days with my health shortly after the break-up although that was unrelated. Then I got back into working and decided my entire apartment needed an edit. I was good, or so I thought.
When I was 20 minutes into my hour drive home from his place, he texted me asking if I had already been through. I confirmed that I had been and he said he was sorry and he at least wanted to see me. There I was, driving my car having Android Auto read his text to me. I got knots in my stomach and that achy empty feeling in my chest that you can only understand if you’ve cared for and lost someone.
Shit! I hadn’t moved on nearly as much as I thought I had. Certainly, not as much as the effort I was putting into doing so. I didn’t get to the point of tears again but still… All it took was a missed connection and knowing he wanted to see me too and everything just came flooding back. I knew he could be trouble for me from the start but fuck!
Signs?
A couple of weeks later, I was going to be out of town again, and again it was going to be convenient for me to see Mr. Six Pack. I successfully resisted the urge to text him in advance and ask him to meet me for coffee or something; nothing had changed, after all. The reasons we broke up were still reasons. Still, the morning I was getting ready for the appointment I thought to myself, “If he texts me today, of all days, that has to mean something, right?”
I had no reason to think I would hear from him. I hadn’t received a text from him since the day I dropped off the stuff for his girls. Even stranger than that, I can’t explain why I thought that. I don’t believe that the universe gives us signs if we ask for them. Nothing that’s ever happened to me in my life lends itself to that idea. I’ve never asked the universe for a sign and always chalked such things up to coincidence. Yet, it went through my head and I can’t make any sense of it.
A Text With Perfect Timing
He did text me that day.
I arrived for my appointment, parked my car and checked in. While I waited for my name to be called I checked my phone. I couldn’t believe it. There was his name on my lock screen along with my favourite picture of him that I had attached to his contact info. I grinned. I couldn’t help it.
He was asking me about a shirt that was in the box of nail polish stuff. I told him that I hadn’t looked in that box in months (true) and I didn’t remember putting the shirt in there (less true). The truth is, I had forgotten the shirt was in the box, but I did remember putting it in there more than two months before. It was a nice shirt that didn’t fit me. I figured it might fit him. I could have just said that I had put it in the box before we broke up and still wanted him to have it. That’s probably what I should have said but wanted to see what he’d say.
Oh, I almost forgot. He started the text message, “Hey you…..”. UGH! I know the context in which I use that combination of words. The only people who have ever used that combination of words with me have been guys who were interested in me at some level. I’m pretty sure we can all agree, that greeting is so much more than the sum of its parts. I simultaneously loved and hated seeing it. I hated it because ultimately I knew it wasn’t going to mean much of anything. But, on the other hand… damn it was a nice feeling!
All the Old Feels
We ended up deciding to meet so Mr. Six Pack could return the aforementioned shirt. And damn if we didn’t just fall back into our old talking and laughing and ease. It had been months since we’d seen each other and over a month since we broke up. Even so, other than the fact that he wasn’t returning the shirt on a date you’d almost never know that we were exes.
I couldn’t stop smiling. And I wasn’t just smiling with my face. I felt like I was smiling with my entire body. Like, eff me but did I want to kiss him, and that was just for starters. I wasn’t supposed to be feeling this way! He broke up with me. Granted, I should have been breaking up with him but I just couldn’t get there. This in spite of the fact that he was kind of a dick to me. Not in a malicious or even an intentional way… still, he was. There, I said it. At the end of the day though, isn’t that what we’re all looking for? Someone who can’t help but care about us even when we’re douchey or bitchy?
Apparently, that small fact doesn’t actually mean… anything really. I mean, I’m a heart on my sleeve, sappy, hopeless romantic. I was in love with someone for the first time as a 16-year-old. I’ve always fallen hard and fast; too fast. I had made it a point not to do that this time around. I was careful and cautious, more so than I’d ever been before. Even with my history, I have never felt for someone the way I felt… feel for Mr. Six Pack. It’s difficult to put it into words exactly. But I’ll try…
Meant to Be?
The idea that two people are meant to be with each other is another concept that I don’t believe. I don’t think people get together or stay together because they’re meant to. I think it’s because two people make a commitment to each other and whatever else happens, they choose to honour that commitment. Sure, compatibility levels make some relationships easier than others but it’s a choice to stay together.
Still, it’s hard to describe what is different for me with this guy than any of the others I’ve ever been interested in without using that phrase that I don’t agree with on a fundamental level. It felt different when we were together and it feels different now.
All That Glitters
I got the shirt home in my purse which I left on my bed while I finished the rest of my evening talking to my roomie about seeing Mr. Six Pack again. We moved onto other topics but a little later on my roomie noted that I was different somehow that day. I initially chalked it up to having had a great day in general and the way that other general things had been coming together lately.
“No, it’s not that,” he said. “It’s Mr. Six Pack glitter all over you.”
My initial reaction was that I wanted to deny it but who the fuck was I trying to kid? I was so happy to have seen him that day. We weren’t even talking about him anymore but the evidence that I had was undeniable.
“Fuck!” I said. “He makes me fucking glitter!?”
I was reminded just how much trouble I was in at that moment. It wasn’t the first time I’d been aware of it but I hadn’t expected to be walloped with the reality of my feelings again. We’d spent no more than 20 minutes outside in a Walmart parking lot on a cold, drizzly October evening and I couldn’t stop smiling hours later. Queue Usher circa 2001.
I got it,
I got it bad.
And then, he got me. He got me good.
The Game
I’m accustomed to winning games. I’m very competitive and I hate losing. I admit to playing a little bit of a game with Mr. Six Pack when I said I didn’t remember that the shirt was in the box. But he played a game too and there’s no question he came out the victor.
When we were talking, he mentioned he’d worn this shirt once and didn’t like the style. I didn’t think anything of it. I mean, I dunno if I could have picked that apart if I had wanted to at the time. My brain was being inundated by all those chemicals that come from having feels for someone. My thinking was definitely clouded.
It wasn’t until I was done talking to my roomie putting away a few things before bed that the implications became clear. He’d worn the shirt once. Then he’d given it back to me… without washing it. It smelled like him. Clean and masculine and sexy af. The way my sheets had smelled the day after he’d spent the night at my place. Fuck! What was this dude trying to do to me?
Which is a question I asked him a day or two later by text. What are you trying to do to me, Mr. Six Pack, I had texted him. His reply? “Driving you to insanity. Is it working?” I replied that I’d rather not say because of course it was working. But I should have been pissed. I should have made myself stop smiling. Try as I might, I couldn’t do it.
Besides the fact that it’s sexy as hell that he got one over on me, I find it even sexier that he got me on so many different levels and then just owned it the way he did. Historically, he was more of an answer the question with a question deflector but not this time.
I should be mad, annoyed, at the very least looking to put up some walls and get myself off his hook.
But he makes me fucking glitter…
