A woman speed dating

Don’t want your bad romance (the end)

This post continues from the previous one.

How did this bad romance end? Good question. After the stalker-ish stuff, I decided to put the kibosh on it. Still, there were more messages, mournful song lyrics posted on Facebook, and a chance sighting at a coffee shop.

Let’s start with the messages.

From Peter:

I know this is not exactly right but I’m trying to laugh at my pain. I thought of you when I saw this…. Please say there is a tiny grin on your face. I miss you so GD much, wish we could have worked things out.

12 Historical Women Who Gave No F*cks


These are just some of the women who, historically speaking, didn’t give a single fuck.

My response:

Hey Peter — Sorry to have initiated, in any way, a lot of pain and suffering on your part. When you say things like “you miss me so much,” it brings to mind what you said about always wanting (sometimes desperately) to find your soulmate. We only dated for a month in total. Do you really miss me, or do you miss this ideal partner you’ve created yourself, who, for the time being, I’m embodying?

Peter’s reply:

I’m not blaming you for this pain that is mine, I thought it was darkly funny, this story I mean. Yes I have realized like so many of your other suitors I have put you in some role which was not realistic nor of your own choosing. The pain passes and it has, it’s just hard when things have to full stop, I don’t really know where you are feeling in all of this. Communication helps teach and inform the desire I have to just “have” a relationship with some one. It can inform how you are feeling if it’s not in ballance with how I am feeling . I mean only yesterday I was feeling like checking out the climbing gym here at union south. It just takes a short time for these ideas and the desire to schedule fun things to pass. So are you interested in still seeing me and seeing if I can reform the framework I tried to fit you into or are you feeling there is no possible chance for us romantically? If the latter then is there a chance for a freindship? I have to tell you I was shocked to hear you did not feel safe seeing me the other night when things droppped. Maybe I misunderstood the reason for that but ya. It would be nice to iron out a few things so it’s not strange or uncomfortable if we run into each other in the world. Anyway I’m doing really well, using this stuff to motivate and inspire new things, work wise anyway. I honestly hope you are having a wonderful day and hope that you are in a space now that we might be able to at least temporarily for the sake of creating peace can communicate about these few things.

Yep, didn’t really want to see him or talk to him, which makes communication pretty much impossible. He had pretty well established that he was nuts by this point.

A few more intentionally unanswered phone calls and emails later:


We dated from 12/21-1/12. That’s a total of 3 weeks. I spoke to you for an hour on Sunday night, 1/11, trying my best to explain to you why I didn’t think things would work out between us romantically and have emailed you once since then reiterating that I didn’t think things would work out between us romantically.

Since then (and even before then), you called me and sent me dozens of unwanted messages through Gmail, Facebook, text, and Match. The quantity and quality of these calls and messages has made me extremely uncomfortable, and I’d appreciate it if you’d cease all contact with me.

Like I said, I tried my best to explain to you why I didn’t think things worked out between us, and at this point I don’t think there’s any answer I could give you that would satisfy you.

Please accept this and move on.

I didn’t hear much more from Peter, though these lyrics appeared on his Facebook page the following week. Let me remind you that a 46-year-old man posted this:

Its one of those nights.

I tear my heart open; I sew myself shut

My weakness is, that I care too much

my scars remind me that the past is real

I tear my heart open just to feel

Drunk and I’m feeling down

And I just cant stand being alone

I’m pissed cause you left me hanging

Why don’t you just admit we had something

You’re making me insane

All I can say is

I tear my heart open; I sew myself shut

My weakness is, that I care too much

my scars remind me that the past is real

I tear my heart open just to feel.

This “song” brought a plethora of sympathetic comments from his female Facebook friends.

Then there was that coffee shop sighting last summer. I was at Michelangelo’s, writing while munching on a scone when Peter walked in. I looked toward the door, then pretended I didn’t see him. Peter appeared to be in the midst of a panic attack–or was being pursued up State Street by its resident beggars, having thrown them off his path by diving into the coffee shop. He pretended not to see me, then fled without ordering.

“Bye Peter,” I thought, as his red hair and broad shoulders disappeared from view. “Bye forever.”



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