Thursday- When Things are "Not That Serious", or Lights Out for the Dreamer

Thursday night is when things began to fall apart.

The Dreamer had asked me to do some contract work for him Friday morning, painting in a house that he property manages, and I said sure. Since we were going to have to leave early, though, I invited him over for dinner Thursday night. That way, we could just leave from my house Friday.

I had planned to make chicken tikka masala for dinner, but I have issues with cooking meat. It's a weird hangup, I know, but we're all allowed to have them! The Dreamer had agreed to cook the chicken for it, so I had that all thawed and the rice on. While we were waiting, we sat at the kitchen table and were talking. Then his phone rang.

It was one of the owners he does property management for, and the owner needed a copy of a contract that night that the Dreamer had at his house. There was no other option but to go get it. His house is only 15 minutes away from mine, but it was still an annoyance. I went with him, he got what he needed sent off, and he started driving back to my house.

About a block away, I brought up “Our Relationship.” Because of our conversation the week before where we decided not to be boyfriend/girlfriend, I was beginning to wonder if we were on the same page about what our relationship was at all. So, I asked him.

“I don't think we need to talk about this,” he told me. But I insisted.

“Well, I didn't think we were that serious.”

Here, imagine the most shocked, confused, hurt expression you can. That's what my face looked like at that moment.

I don't know how someone can mistake what we had for “not being serious.” Granted, we weren't exclusive, but that was a parameter of the relationship that had been agreed on in the beginning. He was coming over 2-3 times a week, just to eat dinner and hang out on the couch. I don't know how other people do things, but that's definitely NOT something I do with a person I'm just “casual” with.

I told him this, and he said he felt like a jerk. What I should have done was agree with him, but I had already slipped into my “make everyone else feel better” mode, and I ended up consoling HIM, if you can believe that. I told him that if he wanted to just date casually, we could do that, but it wasn't going to look like what it had been like up to this point. I think I meant that when I said it, but as I have more space from the conversation, I think I've changed my mind. I don't want to date him, even casually. It hurt. It really hurt. It was like he was saying all the effort I'd put into it, all the little things I'd done for him, all the conversations we'd had about serious problems in my life- all that hadn't been serious to him.

He still spent the night that night, and we still went out the next morning. He was so disorganized, though, that we spent 2 hours at Home Depot getting things for the project. At one point, he had me standing outside with two carts full of things he'd bought while he went back in for...something. He didn't tell me what he was doing when he did it, just to “wait for a sec.” Well that “sec” turned into 40 minutes. Forty minutes of standing outside a Home Depot, no idea what was going on, no way to leave if I'd needed to. Had I driven myself, I probably would have left.

When we got to the house we were painting, it turned out that the carpet cleaners were coming that day, so it wasn't even possible to paint. Instead, I helped the Dreamer do some landscaping at another house. When it was finally done we stopped for dinner before heading home; I hadn't eaten since breakfast. He knew of a little place with out-of-this-world tacos- at least those lived up to my expectations.

As we were eating, he told me that I was “kind of an asshole” to work with. I asked him what he meant, and he said it was because I'm really on top of getting things done, and I didn't let him “work at his own pace.” Seriously? What kind of business owner complains about his employees working too hard?

Even after the events of the last day, I invited him upstairs for a quickie when we got back to my house. In hindsight, that was a stupid thing to do- I wish the memory of the last sex we're likely to have was a happier one. Oh well, live and learn.