Mr. Tiny
Thankfully, I have always been attracted to guys who like me and distanced myself from those who don’t seem to (often prematurely and to my detriment), so for years I would go on a date with anyone who appeared highly interested and asked. I felt that there was enough innate good in people that it was my responsibility to give each person a chance and see if I couldn’t find a reason to cultivate a relationship there.
As I age, and time becomes the most valuable currency, it behooves me to reprioritize and scientific studies remind me that love is most commonly formed in the first 8.2 seconds…
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In the local pizza palace, Mr. Tiny positions himself, quite upright, in the seat next to me at the bar and starts chatting, as if we are old chums. Mr. Tiny is of Napoleonic stature and has an attitude to match. Though he is good-looking, I am not physically attracted to him. But I like him. I enjoy his company. He’s pretty funny, which goes a long way for me. And I can tell he will be the best boyfriend in the whole wide world, which, of course, I deserve, and not being entirely shallow, I decide to put physicality aside and try him on for size.
Mr. Tiny takes me on great dates. He listens to everything I say (this is big of him, I talk incessantly) and responds intelligently and appropriately. He sends flowers to my work and impresses my friends. My girlfriends adore him. My guy friends openly think it is weird that I date someone so short.
We only ever make out. It isn’t very good. And not the kind of not very good that can get any better. He isn’t doing anything wrong, I just do not enjoy it. At all. I cannot wait to escape his clutches.
As I am coming to the realization that I do not want to spend time with him anymore, he tells me that he is going to do everything in his power to prevent me from moving to Los Angeles because I will be so in love with him that I won’t want to go anymore.
We are NOT on the same page. We are not reading the same book. We aren’t even in the same library. This needs to end immediately. I cannot tolerate the energy of someone who might attempt to sabotage my dreams of sunshine and stardom.
So after a subtle yet ineffective letdown approach, I have the inevitable task of avoiding him and putting him off for the next few weeks until he moves on. There are enough issues that I can use to break it off more maturely (he isn’t kind to wait-staff which is a total deal breaker for me), but in the end I know the fight will come down to height, so I pull a total disappearing act.
When I consult with my father, he asks, “Well, at what point did you know, for certain, that he was not the one for you?”
I don’t need a minute to determine that I’d known from the moment we’d met.