What does it mean when a man says he’ll call you, and then doesn’t? Is it appropriate to track him down to his house and leave him love letters?
My friend says I should read ‘He’s Just Not That Into You’? but I said to her ‘If I wait for someone who’s THAT into me, I’ll NEVER get laid!’.
The short answer is, when a man says he’ll call you and he doesn’t, find another man. There are plenty lying about on the street, and a woman with initiative need never go hungry.
Indeed, this is a perennial problem, about which many films have been made, to heartbreaking effect. Let me relate my own experience on the subject, as general guidance.
You may remember that in a previous post I mentioned an African-American gentleman with whom I went home one night. Well, at the end of the encounter, I gave De Wayne (as I’ll call him), my phone number and assured him that I would be happy to hear from him again (just as soon as the friction sores had healed).
A week went by and I heard nothing. He had said he was going to Melbourne to visit friends, so not to worry. However, as time went by, I began to feel cross. I called him rude names. I cried to the heavens (at least, to the dog) ‘Why? WHY????’.
Was I too old? Was he allergic to cats? Did he dislike my friends? Was my house too messy? Did my refusal to participate in the tenth act of congress in one night disappoint? Or was he, even now, at a bar in my home city using the same line on another innocent divorcee??
Eventually my resolve broke. I went around to his friend’s house (where he was staying during his Australian holiday) and put a note in the letter box. Then I decided to forget all about it, so I made another date with someone else (as the only reliable antidote to one man is ANOTHER man).
The next day I was having dinner with friends and, guess what, who should ring but Tarzan, fresh from the jungles of Melbourne. At this point, the usual rule is to sound studiously cool (‘Who? Oh yeah, I remember now. I’ve been terribly busy..’). However, since I had left THE NOTE, this option was closed off. So instead I greeted him enthusiastically, accepted all excuses offered, and made myself available at the first opportunity. You may think this was undignified, dear Stalker, but let me tell you, if you had SEEN that body, you would know that a man in the hand is better than one in someone else’s bush, no matter how much bullshit you have to swallow first.
Yes, there were a few issues. For instance, looks aside, De Wayne was one of the most unfit men I have ever met. This may have been because he drank vodka for breakfast. In any case, there is nothing like a man who can barely drag himself up a short flight of stairs without panting heavily and asking for rest stops, to make an ageing chick feel like superwoman. Don’t underestimate the pleasure to be got from feeling physically superior to your man.
For another thing, he was seriously ‘fucked up’. Look at it this way though, Stalker, when you date a man with a split personality, what you are REALLY getting is two for the price of one. For instance, with De Wayne, not only could I enjoy the staid, academic, anal retentive middle-class mathematician (his job back in the US) but I ALSO got a chauvinistic, domineering, womanising, callous and foul mouthed brother from the hood. While the one buys dinner (and informs me that he doesn’t mind bad table manners in a woman (on the contrary, I can ‘rub my pussy in it’ if I feel like it) the other wants to ask my sister in for a threesome.
A little walk on the wild side is usually worth it, just to broaden your experience of the world, dear Stalker. However, don’t attempt to form a longer-lasting relationship with a man of this kind unless, of course, you like being treated like a doormat.. De Wayne once told me that he had three rules for all his women. Rule One was ‘do what I say’. Rules Two and Three were ‘Refer to Rule One’. This is three too many rules to remember, in my opinion.
When playing with a strange man, remember that you are not his mother, nor are you Emergency Services, poised with helicopter and defibrillator to rescue him from his tragic life. When he tells you about his abusive upbringing in the deep South, his crack-whore mother who overdosed at 16, his chronic lung disease, his lifelong struggles to climb out of the criminal underworld, and the fact that he had to eat grits for breakfast as a child – and when these tales are accompanied by prolonged and satisfying congress – you may feel a tide of love and pity welling within you. Crush it. It will all end in tears.
Did I crush it? Of course not. Did it end in tears? Yes it did, Ms Stalker (though, as he left for the US, not for some time). Still, the tank was well and truly filled up, the horizon widened, and you know what, when De Wayne got back to the US, he RANG – just to say those three little words (got any cash?)
So my advice to you, Ms Stalker, is that if you feel inclined to pursue your man, you should do just that – a shitload of hot sex can be worth a little damaged dignity, in the end.