awkward am

Almost everyone has experienced the should I stay, should I go, should I kick him out, should I ask her to stay-the inner dialogue of the tug of the war of the morning. It’s hard, hard to know when to have someone stay, stay as long as they want, as long as you want, maybe until the next day. Next day. Awkward ams come in all forms and I learned this past Tuesday as I began my day. Awkward Tuesday was brought to you by no other than me. It wasn’t the typical awkward a.m. of new lovers-no it was me reliving embarrassment of a teenager. It was a reminder I too have blown off guys. I felt 15 again. Taking hours to figure out to wear and do my hair, and turning red at the wrong times, and just desperately wanting to be accepted. We all need reminders we too can be dicks. So I got mine this week. Thanks so much for that memo, duly noted.

I walked into to my local stomping ground of a coffee shop to get my coffee to begin my day. As I poured the makings of a great coffee together, I saw a man in the light, a man who I blew off. Shit is all I can think. And my face tightens into a uncomfortable pretend smile smirk. He asked me out in person and in text. I had made plans but then lied to him about some other responsibility I had. He asked me to come over to house for a fire for a first date. Which didn’t settle well with me. I must not have be into him. But really I was just into someone else- limbo again we were in. I don’t know why I planned a second date. Date. But I flaked on that one too. I should have just said, said something like I am seeing someone else or I’m busy or something. But instead I let his last text of I was thinking of you go to my response of radio silence. So when I saw him, I felt awful because what do you say. Say. I said nothing, I left without a lid on my coffee and prayed and laughed nervously while speed walking across the street dodging the cars and the J church and hoped he didn’t come after me. He didn’t. I felt like a dick. I guess I blow off people too. It is easier to remember when someone has stopped taking your calls or emails or breaks things off via myspace or stands you up or dumps you double-parked. Those are easier to remember. Funny how that works.

So I thought I was free of running into my most recent second possibility of stretching my dating muscles into becoming a puma-a cougar in training. First a 26 year old. Which might be worth an attempt at rationalization. But this guy was 23. I know you guys do it all the time. Go for a younger counterpart. But my brother is 23. I even have limits. He asked me out via text. Text. Somewhat of a generational divide of sorts. I wanted to respond to him in person. I am an idiot. I should have texted him back. Oh no worries, right after the coffee incident I went to class and there he was sitting in my seat, my seat and it wasn’t even his class. I am reliving high school in my 30’s. Then there was an awkward exchange of hi, what are doing here, and me tripping on my desk. I was red again. In high school. Again. He promptly left. I felt like an asshole again and it was only 11 in the morning. This time I wanted to face the music, but not like this.


In my self-reflection I too must admit that I have in fact blown off people, blown off the opposite sex, guys that have liked me, and my actions have not always been as gracefully as I would like done to me. And I have been doing it for years. Years. Guys used to write me love letters and show up at my work and do sweet amazing things like a surprise of flowers or a drawing. I would break up with a man on the phone. Just to not face him. I would break up with them and date someone they knew immediately. I would blow them off. Coldly. Callously. I realized I had forgotten I have done this, that I have done this. Maybe that is why shit goes down the way it does. I could only see myself be wronged. Wronged. This is an open apology to men of my past that experienced the radio silence because I was too much of a wimp to say anything even goodbye or something a self-help book would advise, I don't know. Maybe instead, instead I could come up with something that would make it all less uncomfortable. Uncomfortable it is. Truth is this awkward a.m. had more to do with me then anyone else. I can finally say it's not you, it's me and really mean it.