Book 13: The Ghost of Turkeys Past (Carl the Confusing)
“I’ve never been in a healthy relationship—have you?”
The man sitting across from me crossed his legs and sat back comfortably in the coffeehouse chair.
Caught a little off guard, I paused. Had I ever been in a healthy relationship? What even qualifies as “healthy,” other than lack of abuse? Slowly I shook my head, aware that he was waiting for an answer, and the realization sunk in: maybe I had never been in a totally healthy relationship.
It had been about a year and a half since Gavin the Golden Girl (see Book 3). I’d dated men I’d met online, and men I’d met in person. The only dating app date that made it past a second or third date was Tucker, a chemist and motorcycle rider, who had the two most adorable pit bulls I’d ever met up to that point (they were the inspiration for me adopting my own pit bull, and obviously she is the most adorable dog ever, but I didn’t know her yet when I dated him). But as our four months together wore on, it became more and more clear that we didn’t have the same core values, and while I think he would have settled down with me and married me if I’d been good with it, he seemed more excited by how I looked than who I was.
By the time I sat in that coffeeshop, I was in a good place emotionally, financially, mentally. I’d made it through COVID lockdown and co-parenting crises, health issues and heartbreaks. I had bought my own house and changed careers and started exploring the world. I had finally come to completely love my life. I just wanted someone to share it with. But I had also grown and healed enough to be certain that it had to be someone who added more positively to my life than he took away.
I’d taken a break from dating for the previous few months, but had recently steeled myself to jump back into the online dating... ”pool” isn’t the right word. Mud pit? Fire Swamp? Fetid hellhole? Yeah, that.
I had started texting with Carl right before Thanksgiving. There was nothing super exciting in our messages, but I liked that he was respectful, that his language seemed kind (that should be the bare minimum, but those are highlights in the purgatory that is dating as a straight woman). And he seemed to really love his daughters and relish taking care of them. He sent me a cute video of them giving him a makeover. Bright blue eyeshadow, heavy blush, and pink lipstick were smeared across all their faces and they were giggling uncontrollably.
Over four years since the end of my marriage, and at this point, I didn’t get my hopes up too soon with online dudes. It felt like a dreaded chore to have to text with strangers on the regular. I had to gather a lot of emotional energy to force myself to do it. It was no longer new and exciting and full of possibility. I waited until I saw some sign of actual hope first.
Carl and I set up a video date after Thanksgiving, since we both had our kids for a while coming up. He hopped on, and I was surprised by how much I immediately enjoyed talking to this stranger. I even felt a little of that hey-I’m-attracted-to-you giddiness. We chatted about a variety of surface-level topics. My new Christmas lights were glittering in the window behind me, so he walked the phone outside to show me his. He was proud of how straight he’d gotten them. I showed him my pets, and he expressed his appreciation for my effort in finding a solution for us to have a “date” despite our crazy single-parent schedules. I didn’t walk away with any warnings in my gut. We agreed we both wanted to meet in person, at his suggestion.
The text conversations were fairly dull, but since talking with him had gone better, that was fine with me. I had my son 75% of the time by this point in our lives, and in between that and the 9-5 desk job I now worked, plus working out, taking care of a home, and general adulting, I didn’t have a whole lot of time to get into involved texting situations with strangers anyway. In the midst of our texting small talk (the conversations you have to have over and over again ad nauseum in online dating: Where are you from? What do you like to do for fun? How old are your kids?…*to be read in a robotic voice), we found out we had a mutual acquaintance. Carl had been the best man at the mutual acquaintance’s recent wedding; they’d known each other since high school. This seemed encouraging, since what I knew about the mutual dude was that he seemed genuinely kind.
Carl and I set up a coffee date on a Sunday. I approached these first dates without the excitement and faith I felt when I first started dating, but with a willingness to see how things went.
The day before, I went to a workout. Weirdly enough, the mutual guy, whom I hadn’t seen in something like a year, was at the workout when I walked up. Not only that, but I ended up working out in the same group as him. I gave a little mental nod to fate. I spent the workout debating whether I would bring up Carl. Finally, at the very end, I decided I couldn’t let this serendipity go unacknowledged. I said that I’d encountered his buddy Carl. Mutual guy (okay, let’s just call him John) smiled and said that Carl had mentioned me. He talked about how long they’d known each other—it was good to hear that he shared the same general facts, since I’ve gotten to the point, thanks to a series of solid assholes, where I don’t trust any of these men as far as I can throw them. John and I stood awkwardly for a moment as I tried formulate what to say next, and then John added, “He’s a really great guy” in an enthusiastic and genuinely warm tone.
I was more excited about the coffee date after this encounter. It is way better to go into a first date knowing someone you know recommends the other person, and that at the very least (or best?), they’re probably not about to steal your purse. That evening, I texted Carl about how John had talked him up. He joked that he’d be sure to give John a twenty the next time he saw him.
Carl and I met up the following afternoon at one of my favorite local coffee houses. He arrived early and texted asking what I wanted, so he could go ahead and order for me. I smiled, his effort duly noted. When I walked in, he was waiting for our drinks. He was cute in a 40’s-something dad kind of way, which I found reassuringly attractive. Good smile. And he’d dressed up for the date a bit, with a sweater over a collared shirt, and nice shoes. I smiled appreciatively—I’ve found many guys don’t dress halfway nicely for a first date, and then I feel silly wearing anything fancier than a t-shirt. He was slighter than I’d realized, but that didn’t bother me.
Canine or Fowl? Thanksgiving morning, I had gone running with friends, my son, and my dog (I’m holding her). When this picture was shared later, multiple people thought I had run carrying a turkey. This is the picture I showed Carl.
We found a table away from the worst bustle of the shop and settled into the creaky wooden chairs. We ended up talking for a couple hours, enthusiastically and about things that were real. Lots of smiling. He touched my hand when I showed him a picture of my dog on my phone and he held it there as he looked. It was sweet, without being too much.
At this point, I was done with wasting time building a connection with men that couldn’t work out, so I told him as much and dove into what I consider the basics: core values, religion, politics, etc. How someone treats others is essential to me, and questions along those topics reveal a lot. Afterwards, my therapist said it might have been a lot for a first date, but he was down for the conversations, and answered at length while still leaving room for me to contribute to the conversation (another thing that should be basic, but is actually very hard to find as a woman). We didn’t have the same viewpoints on politics and religion, but they weren’t completely opposed either, and we both agreed that other people should be able to believe what they want as long as they aren’t hurting anyone else. He expressed that he liked to talk about that stuff with people who had different viewpoints, which is something I really appreciate and enjoy as well (that is something that the last boyfriend had very much not liked about me).
He was engaging and interesting to talk to. He also struck me as being emotionally intelligent in a way I hadn’t encountered in a man before. He brought up the importance of communication in a relationship, and how if a couple disagreed about something, they should approach the problem together, on the same side, rather than making it be a battle between them. He talked about how everyone has a past, but it’s important to understand how your past affects your current view of life. That excited me more than anything. And he wasn’t just looking to hook up, didn’t sound scared of commitment or relationships, and generally seemed like he had a good head on his shoulders.
“I’ve never been in a healthy relationship—have you?” Carl eventually asked. His chair creaked a little as he sat back and waited for my response.
I stared absently at the mugs for sale lining the wall—mugs with pithy sayings and trying-too-hard-to-be-funny quotes, mugs with pictures of dogs and cats and grandkids. I fiddled with my empty paper coffee cup.
“No,” I finally said, shaking my head.
Our conversation galloped on.
Since then, I’ve thought a lot about it. I’ve never been in a completely great relationship, but I think I’ve been in a couple decent ones. Tucker the chemist wasn’t perfect, but the relationship was not what I would call unhealthy. And there was one other that was, on the whole, good, minus the part where the guy told me the more serious his feelings got for me, the more uncomfortable he was with a long-term relationship.
When it was time to get back to my babysitter, Carl walked me out. He hugged me in the parking lot—he smelled good. I like the scent of guys’ cologne and deodorant—it’s so different from women’s scents and my ex-husband never did anything to smell good.
I went home and told my babysitter and my friends it was the best first date I’d been on.
He wasn’t everything I’d imagined, but he had glimmerings of emotional intelligence and understanding of what makes a relationship work, which most men I’ve dated lack. And he’d asked for a second date, even moving his own schedule around a bit in order to get together sooner.
I let myself start to get a little excited about him.
We texted a lot that night, after I got home from getting a Christmas tree with my son. We joked around about how I wash my tree before bringing it into the house (I’m allergic to everything, and otherwise I spend all of December sneezing because of whatever has collected on the pine tree needles).
In text, we didn’t talk about anything deep still. But again, since our phone and in-person encounters had gone so well, we had just met, and I was super busy, I was okay with that.
Two days later, he didn’t text me all day. But he’d told me it was a busy week for him with holiday events and his daughters, so I didn’t worry. I checked in that evening to ask how his day had gone. The anxiety started to set in when he didn’t respond that evening...there’s a set pattern for when a guy is getting ready to ghost you, as I’ve mentioned before. I told myself he’d just gone to bed early, even as I wracked my brain, trying to figure out what I’d said or done to offend him or push him away. I couldn’t think of a single thing.
He answered the next morning. When he did, he sent me a picture of his girls at a sleigh ride, so that seemed like he wasn’t pulling away. I asked a follow-up question about the sleigh ride. He never answered.
Looking back just now, I realized I missed a key word in what he said, so my follow-up question didn’t completely make sense. But that didn’t warrant being ghosted.
Why do men do this? I don’t ghost people I’ve met in person, or even men I’ve texted with a fair bit. It does make it easier to handle the rejection from my end in that it sends me the clear message that this person’s communication and emotional skills are so undeveloped that they don’t even bother to exercise common courtesy. It would be like walking off without saying a word when a person is in the middle of talking to you. I don’t need to waste my time with someone who will pull that shit. So when a man does this, it lets me feel a little superior and like I’ve dodged a bullet. But still.
This one was especially baffling, since the first two dates had gone so well. I hadn’t detected any reticence in him. He’d been the one to ask for the next date. And we had a mutual friend! What was he thinking when he knew the two of us are likely to cross paths again in the future?
After a day or so, I was able to climb out of my anxiety storm and realize with great relief that there was literally nothing I’d done wrong. This ghosting could not have been because of me. Because this was so obvious, it gave me some perspective going forward. Something that had become a huge anxiety trigger thanks to all the men before—lack of response in texts—transformed into a beast I could tame with logic. Which was a skill I would need, because this began a series of extra bewildering dating encounters.
Postscript
I especially like the idea of calling the online dating pool “the Fire Swamp,” because then I can call the men ROUS’s—Rodents of Unusual Size.