Years ago, I dated a little surfer dude who had not much of a spine. He had just started a new surf company out on Long Island, New York and thought he was the bomb.
Long after our breakup and my divorce, I contacted him about some gear for my young son. After all, the guy was a decent person, I thought, and probably wouldn’t mind if I support his store and get some insights on what I should buy for my son. It shouldn’t be a big deal if I ask him some questions about equipment.
In the middle of small talk, he apologized for marrying someone else, citing he knew how much I wanted to marry him.
I was absolutely speechless.
You know when your brain can’t wrap itself around someone else’s logic? I mean… what do you say to that? I didn’t want to rebuff the kid – I would have made him feel shorter than his already stunted height. And so I sat – on the other end of the phone – speechless. He must have taken that as a confirmation of my undying love. Lol
It felt cruel to tell him that the thought of being stuck with him for the rest of my life would have been torture, so I let it hang. I let him continue to think that I desired marriage from him.
Occasionally I ponder the idea of contacting that surfer dude to let him know that he was profoundly incorrect in his assumption, and that it occasionally makes me vurp when I think about his miscalculation. My pride is indeed pricked when I think of his dorkiness walking around telling people that I still wanted him, that he can’t hold a candle to what I’ve loved.
But still, I let it go. I wish I had the heart to tell him, “Omg, are you outta your mind? LOL” So ultimately… yeah, it wasn’t him at all. It was me.