Signs That Your Ex Isn't Thrilled With You: #1

Upon making plans to meet, and you having not brought up your current romantic pursuit within the scope of the last 72 hours, she tells you:

"I'm only coming over for a bit, since you'll probably want to go off and hang out with H_____."

Great.

The Friend Zone.

Do these sound familiar?

"You're such a nice guy."

"You're my best friend."

"Why aren't more guys like you?"

If they do, welcome to the friend zone.

Has she told you everything there is to know about her ex boyfriend and why they broke up? She is spilling the beans to make sure you don't make the same mistakes with her, right? 

Wrong.

First of all, no woman will tell you exactly what she wants in a relationship and actually mean it. Even if she does, 1.) you shouldn't be pursuing this know-it-all, unless you are looking forward to total subversion to her giant ego, and 2.) she has no idea what she actually wants.

People do not learn from their past. If she was attracted to some ass who spent his free time running around town punching police officers and inventing new sex moves with drunken sorority girls, she will look for that guy, part 2. Unless you're into trying out new hobbies that involve handcuffs and sexually transmitted diseases, you're out of luck.

If she has given you the ex lowdown, or told you how great you are without any sign of return on your time investment, you're out of luck. You may have made yourself too available. You may have listened to her talk about her day and the contents of her Nordstrom bag one too many times. You may have been too insightful, or spoken too highly of her. 

Hello time commitment. Goodbye physical payoff. You're dating... but you're not. Meanwhile, she's getting with some guy named Chad. 

The Art of Building Intrigue: Shut. Your. Mouth.

When an attractive woman has asked me a question, I have always assumed genuine interest. 

This assumption is as far from the truth as possible-- the last thing she wants to do is listen to you ramble about God knows what. Honestly, who cares what you just did 3 hours ago? Chances are, you're not that interesting, and telling her exactly why can not possibly contribute to your best interests.

The solution? Say as little as possible. Be stoic. Give nothing away that could turn her away. The results?

1.) maintain an air of mystery

2.) let her do what she loves to do: talk about herself. 

If she asks you how you're doing, a simple "fine" will suffice. Insert witty comment if you're confident you can pull it off. Next, simply do like girls do: ask her the question back and keep asking follow-ups until her verbal train leaves the station. At that point, just relax and phase in and out of consciousness (or actually pay attention: your choice). Congratulations, you're a great listener.

The only issue here is that you may get tied into a conversation about something you care nothing about. Shoes, for example-- avoid shoes at all costs. There is a fine line between good listener and the friend zone, from which you have little hope of escaping (addressed in a future post). Once you have incited a dialogue about pumps, you've certainly taken a wrong turn. Learn as much as you can about her past, her good friends, and her family, but avoid pointless, shallow banter.

The goal is to figure out what she is thinking and how she regards the world around her, while maintaing a wall-like presence. The questions should always be, "what does this tell me about her?", and if any red flags come up, "should I run for the hills?"

If you find yourself cornered and have to talk about yourself, keep it simple, interesting, and keep her involved in your story. In fact, take any opportunity you have to stop talking and let her tell you of a similar experience she may have had. Unless you lead a life of endless philantropy or have recently toured the continent with your alternative rock band, she will not only lose interest, but you will also miss out on a chance to learn what she is thinking.

When she is doing the talking, you are giving nothing away about yourself and can only stand to learn what is going through her mind. But start talking, and she has this luxury. 

Unless you have told her exactly what you have been doing all day, she may, in fact, assume that you have been dishing out soup to the homeless for four or five hours. You might be a nice guy, but you might also have four motorcycles and enjoy riding off into the desert at 2 in the morning when you're feeling sleepless. 

Boring or not, just keep your mouth shut and you don't have to be. 

Prologue

"Be offhand or do your hand." 

To all you hopeless romantics: heed my brilliant slogan.

Having continually defined and redefined the word "desperate", the termination of my last pursuit came at me like a dormant volcano blowing its top all over an unexpecting group of half-naked villagers. Fortunately, there was only one casualty, and it was yours truly, who would face a slightly intoxicated and somewhat tearful 3 AM drive home from downtown Portland, shouting obscenities over John Mayer's smooth vocals and groovy guitar work. 

But how did I get here?

Perhaps it was the culmination of drunken phone calls and text messages, spread over the period of several months. Perhaps it was the page-long emails, confessing my deepest feelings and desires, sent at 2 in the morning on work nights. Perhaps it had something to do with me telling her, directly, that I would put my joie de vivre on hold for her for the next 10 months, when we would finally reside in the same city. Or perhaps it was telling her that I had thought of nothing but her in the last month of my previous relationship. Whatever it was that led to my predicament, I was completely oblivious. Clearly, I had done everything a woman could possibly desire.

Be that as it may, she decided to let online networking sites to let me know that she had decided to move to California in the upcoming year. Questioning into the matter led only to denial. Further questioning, in person, led to reluctant confirmation. I was not deterred. 

Apparently in lieu of previous interactions of the "you're everything I've wanted" type, she began changing her facebook statuses to everything from "the fights, they don't stop. It might be time to sign off" (despite only smooth sailing between us as far as I was concerned, meaning her ex was out of the picture) to "it's love, it's love, it's love" (resulting in the biggest of Fonzie looks on my part).

As far as I could see, this was going to be the greatest romance in romance history since [insert male and female names from famous chick flick here]. I even memorized Bennie and the Jets in preparation of the getting a whole bar singing a song everyone loves with a special lady kind of nights that evidently loomed around the corner that is the end of this school year. 

And then: "girl (love) boys with guitars"

Fuuuck. 

First thought: her ex is in a band. A pretty damn good band. He plays guitar.

Second thought: I own a guitar as well... perhaps she knew.

Third thought: I took her out for a damn nice dinner on our first date. I bought her flowers.

Fourth thought: there's no way she's going back to that asshole.

Fifth thought: she probably didn't know...

And finally...

Sixth thought: @%!$^&#*

I saw her one more time after this, which is how I came to the previously described predicament. Having pledged not to let her get to me and have her come meet me with a large group of my friends, we decided on a pub in Alberta. I decided on one theme for the night: utter indifference. A summary follows:

First hour: success. She seemed intrigued at my offhand interactions with friends and ability to have a good time without discussion of my deep and undying desire for her. 

Second hour: having tried to kiss her more than once and been met with a lowering of the head and a barrage of excuses, indifference had somehow fled.

Third hour: "I'm tired... can you get a ride home with your friend? Oh he's just left? Well you better run to catch up to him!"

Cue John Mayer.

Having made every mistake in the book of courtship, I bring you the definitive "don't do as I did or am currently doing" guide to God knows that I end up getting myself into as the wheel of time spins its gangly spokes. 

Update: she is spending winter break with her former ex, having rekindled what I can only describe as a sewage treatment facility meets hellfire sort of flame. All bitterness aside, I hope they both get the clap.