It’s a small town (after all)
When I was signing my lease, the assistant, a lifetime native of Santa Barbara, warned me, “Whatever you do, just be nice to everyone. Even ex-boyfriends. This town is small.” I realize this falls under The Golden Rule crap my parents taught me.
I haven’t seen The Schnauzer since the infamous hot tub/back shaving incident. My Golden Rule is Out of Sight/Out of Mind because I just wasn’t that into him. Hairy back aside (have you seen my thighs? I know about embracing heritage), when he admitted he had a porn addiction and thought beer was a waste of money, I knew he wasn’t the guy for me. When he said he was conflicted because he wanted to marry a girl with little-to-no sexual history, I knew I wasn’t the girl for him. Nice getting to know you, but we aren’t right for each other.
Next.
Imagine my surprise when I received a text message from The Schnauzer Friday, “Hi Marna, I saw you walking with your date yesterday. Its OK I understand. I was hoping we could still be friends I thought you were interesting.”
I’m not sure where this communication is coming from since it’s been more than a month since his clipping. I realize this is a small town, and I will be polite if I ever seen him squeezing the melons in Trader Joe’s, but I really don’t need another friend.
My friends have great communication skills. And they don’t mince words.
Jesus, that’s stalky. Glad he “understands” and says its “OK.” Who knows what you would do without his approval?
It might be easier to find people to date in this interconnected age, but its also a lot creepier to know that people have more than one way of not letting go.