Brick Wall

Written in the Spring of 2015

 

I feel like I keep hitting my head on a brick wall.

I show up. I smile, I lean in. ?I ask questions. ?I listen. ?I respond. ?I share. ?I ask more questions. ?I laugh. ?I tease. ?I am genuinely interested in knowing more, uncovering those unique bits of life experience which make him him.

Let’s get together tomorrow afternoon, he says. ?I’ll call tomorrow morning to make plans. ?Ok, I agree.

Now it’s tomorrow. Waaaaaaaaaaaay past morning. No call. No text. No smoke signals.

That’s why I see the brick wall. I’ve been here before. ?Having believed, now disappointed. ?Having trusted, now trying exceedingly hard and failing to not feel duped. ?

This one even asked me, what do you not like? ?My response: ?I do not like it when people lie to me. ?I do not like it at all, not one little bit.

How is not calling when you say you are going to not lying? ?If I can’t trust you to be at your word, then the consequences for me — and you — are the same as lying.

Hello, brick wall! ?Here I am old friend, again pounding my head. ?Who’d thought that honesty was such a premium in the world of dating adults?

Geez . . . . . WTF?



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