Do you really ever know why a date never called you back? Do you wonder what you said after those seven wonderful dates? What did you do that he never called you again? Do you really want to know?
I would want to know, or maybe not, because as long as I don’t know I can delude myself into believing all the reasons he did not call again: I intimidated him … he didn’t want to hurt me … he couldn’t handle his strong feelings for me … his feelings for me freaked him out. All the things that make me feel better because I’m right now reeling from rejection.
Rejection and sadness for something that we could have had. I can’t possibly be wrong about what I felt and what I thought he felt, but maybe I was wrong. Maybe I read him wrong.
Oh there’s also anger because he led me on. He didn’t stop me from believing that this was going somewhere. He said just enough things to make me think that maybe this is meant to be.
I could pick up the phone and make a call to find out what went wrong, but what are the odds of me getting the truth or better yet, what are the odds of me hearing what I want to hear? Part of me wants to know and part of me wants to leave it alone.
Now all I can do is try to make peace and move on but how do I when I see him everywhere? In my car is the receipt he wrote my name on; in my cube is the chocolate he gave me; in my apartment are the flowers he gave me for Valentine’s; in my living room is the pot of bright orange flowers he gave me as a way to say sorry. How do I move on? I don’t want to get rid of those things.