The Waiting Game

Patience is not my strong suit. It is not, in fact, any suit of mine at all. I decided that, if I hadn't heard from Jeremy by Wednesday, a week after his email, I'd send him a brief note. Which, assuming I am clean, would read as follows:

Hi Jeremy,
I just wanted to let you know that all my tests came back clear. I just didn’t want
you to think I’d given you something.

I get the distinct impression you’ve dropped me. That’s OK, though obviously
disappointing for me, since I like you. What is not so OK is that you haven’t
actually told me this. I can take a hint, but it’s far preferable that you actually
communicate your feelings to me. It’s a much kinder way to end things.

It was sort of pointed, but we'd had five dates, and three of those were marathon sex sessions, complete with cuddling, boozy dinners and whatnot. I think that if you have sex with someone, even if that someone is a self-declared slut, you ought to end it with her in person. Or at the very least end it. By, you know, email or something.

But, like I said, patience is not really something I excel at. So this morning I emailed him and merely asked if he wanted to get together.

I emailed him at around 9:30. It's now 2:21, and I haven't heard back. I know, that's not very long in the scheme of things, but considering the context -- he never responded to the email I sent him over a week ago, in the past when I've heard from him in the affirmative it's usually within an hour or two and, oh yeah, I might have given him an STI -- well, I think the odds are against me here.

I'm so disappointed.

Of course, this is a lesson to me: don't develop elaborate domestic fantasies about men you don't know very well, even if they appear to be nice Jewish boys who have their own apartments and want serious relationships. Oops, too late. But the thing is, any guy who doesn't at least write to tell me he's breaking it off is not actually a nice boy, Jewish or otherwise, and is therefore not worthy of my bourgeois dreams of marital bliss. Unfortunately, this sort of knowledge is not intuitive on my part, and usually takes a while—like, months!—to sink into my brain. In the meanwhile, there'll be a lot of Why doesn't he like me? and I'm not attractive. And, oh, I hate this sort of lesson! I want my lessons to be benign and pleasantly surprising! Grr.

Five minutes later…

The minute I wrote that last entry I checked my inbox. My face went hot when I saw there was an email from Jeremy: Did I want to see a movie?

Maybe I overreact in order to prepare myself for rejection, so that way if it comes I don't feel so bad.

But. I have to have a very delicate chat with him. Namely: I don't mean to be pushy, but I don't hear from you. If you do want to see me, you should be contacting, me, too. Of course, I s’pose it’s a double standard since I'm the girl who never emails Daniel!

I am so relieved. And ashamed of how happy I am to have heard from him.