I Hate You, Don’t Leave Me

Ringling Days

Ringling Days


20 years ago, I was performing with Ringling Bros. and we were enjoying an afternoon off in Kansas City. A few of my fellow dancers and I went shopping in this great bookstore…I have since forgotten the name, but I remember the girls bringing me a self help book titled, “I Hate You, Don’t Leave Me.” They were crying laughing and knew they had found the perfect book for me. My God, were they right.

This week alone, I suffered from this strange affliction. My friends were hosting a Sugar Bowl party and invited me along. Anyone who knows me understands that I don’t do sports, but I do love a party! So, I borrowed my 8 yr old son’s OSU sweatshirt, and got ready to go. Meanwhile, my friends decided I should be set up with the other single guy that would be in attendance. Here we go….

They sent him my pictures (without me knowing) and he approved… I internet stalked (don’t judge) and discovered he was cute. Not my normal guy, but cute. So, I headed out to meet Single Guy. Now, before I arrived, I was extremely hesitant. I already knew he wasn’t my type:

-bald
-marathoner (20 of them so far)
-outdoorsy
-iron man competitor
-bald

So, I’m at the party, and Single Guy walks in. We hold eye contact just long enough for it to be a little bit sexy. He’s wearing a ballcap, which is great, since I don’t usually like bald dudes, (Sorry bald dudes) and he has a cute smile. List above? Forgotten. It takes a while for Single Guy to come over, and when he does, it’s completely awkward. Too many knowing eyes watching us to see if we are getting along. The entire room must have been in on it. I notice he’s wearing really bad running shoes and horrible jeans. Not my type, but I suck it up and proceed to ask him a million questions anyway. He asked me nothing. Nada. Zip. He’s either socially awkward or not interested. I was being fairly charming and looking really good in my skinny jeans, so, I’m going for socially awkward. I hate socially awkward guys. At this point, I need to know if it’s me or him. Single Guy works in PR, so as an excuse to get up, he says he needs to walk around and take pics for his promo page.It was painfully obvious. He just got up to get away. OMG….IT IS ME!

Did I mention that the whole room was watching, so now I’m not only feeling the shame of being publicly dissed by Single Guy, but I’m also getting pity glances from the entire room? It was the worst! I wanted to hide under a table. As always, that fake confidence of mine had other plans. I was going to make Single Guy like me! Who cares if he’ll expect me to go jogging at some point? Or that he’s uninterested in me? Or bald? Or outdoorsy? I can’t handle the rejection. I’m even ignoring the bad jeans and shoes. I went full on flirt. I was totally embarrassing. I couldn’t laugh enough at his bad jokes or stop pretending to be completely enthralled by his presence.

I found out he grew up in the mountains, Bleh. White water rafting, Bleh. Fly fishing, Bleh. Camping, Bleh. Was a corporate fitness trainer, double Bleh. Still, I was so pissed that he wasn’t asking me anything! Why didn’t he care to hear about me? But most importantly, why did I care what he thought????

He left even more awkwardly than he arrived. Our mutual friends were trying to give us some space so he could ask me out. (None of them believed me when I said he wasn’t into me). Again, it was all so forced. When Single Guy was given that split second of privacy to ask me for my number, he instead took it as a sign to break for his car, and walked away as fast as possible. Leaving me to yell, “Nice meeting you” into the wind. I walked in shame back to my car, wondering what the hell just happened?

Go Bucks!

Go Bucks!