I wrote this for my Weight Watchers blog... but then I decided to copy and paste it here, because I know the people who read this actually care about me, and I feel really bummed out right now and could use a friend who cares about me. :o)
Wednesday evening, I went out on a date with a friend... we'll call him Charlie. I met Charlie three years ago on a church retreat, and we started to really get close this past year. I really, really like Charlie. A lot. He is everything on my checklist. I feel so comfortable talking to him and being with him. This past semester especially we have really gotten super close. Like, we'd text each other every single day and talk on the phone at least once a week, which is pretty good considering I went to school 400 miles away. I was so excited because I just knew that this could turn into something really special. And Charlie and I talked about everything... religion to politics to embarrassing moments to secrets no one else knows. In hindsight, I think I should have done a better job at not getting so emotionally involved... but I was just so excited, you know?
Anyway. The date, in my opinion, went really well. I really enjoyed myself. It felt so comfortable... there was no awkward getting-to-know-you questions because we already knew that about each other. My face hurt at the end because of how much smiling I did. I warned him in advance that I wasn't ready for anything physical, and he was very respectful of that boundary. He didn't lay a hand on me except for a knee pat here and there and a kiss on the cheek at the end of the evening. Charlie and I have gone out a couple times before... but Wednesday was our first official date.
So I thought things went really well, but this morning Charlie called me and said, "So, Sara, I had a lot of fun on Wednesday, but I don't think there will be a second date. I felt like I was going out with my best friend and I didn't feel enough of a spark to want to risk our friendship. I think maybe we were just too far into the friend zone to make that transition into a relationship as easy as I would have liked." I was crushed. I didn't tell him that I actually really did enjoy our date and really did feel like there was something there... because apparently I'm an idiot. I should have seen it coming. And I wonder if maybe he would have felt that necessary spark if I had grabbed his hand or something... made some kind of physical move on him. I cried a whole lot today. I've just been so disappointed all year with my lack of weight loss, my lack of a job, and my lack of friends at home to hang out with... it just seems like nothing good ever happens for me.
But even though I'm still feeling rather broken up over the whole thing... when tempted to binge eat to feel better, I told myself out loud that eating junk food was not going to take the problem away, and that eating something healthy and going for a bike ride would at least give me something good, even if it wouldn't make the problem go away either. I'm really proud of myself for being able to have that moment of clarity. Granted tonight, when night came and I'm usually most vulnerable, I was not strong enough to say no to a pantry-raid... but the fact that I did once still gives me hope. I only binged once today, when I could have binged all day. Things are looking up.
Rejection majorly sucks. I don't know how to make this sick feeling go away. Charlie still wants to be friends (and I want that too... but I'm mad at him right now--how can he only give me one date to determine how much of a spark there is? I mean good God, give me a chance. I'm not going to instantly jump down your pants and whisper sweet nothings into your ear on the first date just because we started out as such good friends. God. And the fact that he just led me on the entire date or you know, the 6 or 7 months prior in all those text messages/phone calls/outings-in-the-city-when-I-was-home-on-break-and-he-paid-for-me-and-everything). He is having a housewarming party for himself and our friends from the retreat we work on in a couple weeks. I want to go, because I got a stinking cute bathing suit for the very occasion, sure to make him sweat a little. But at the same time... I don't know if I should. How do you get through this amount of suckitude in one piece? Hm.
I feel like death that was meant to be hot but just sat out for too long and is now cold and nasty.