A question for "that guy"...

I’m not in the great outdoors today. And I am about to go on one of my rare (rarely posted, at least... haha) tangents...

Why oh why, men of the world, would you tell a girl or show a girl that you really like them if you really don’t? I understand that you might think you’re interested in someone, but discover that they don’t really "do it for you" once you actually go out. Happens to me all the time. The difference? I don’t fool them into thinking I am interested in them by being affectionate and I certainly don’t tell them I am interested. Or maybe you do really like the girl initially, but upon pondering it later, you change your mind. You’re entitled. It’s your decision. But we, the girls, are entitled to know the truth. Do you really think that we are so fragile that we can’t handle the truth? Breathe a deep sigh of relief, boys. Most of us would not contemplate suicide. You’re not that special. So if you happen to be "that guy" please stop being full of yourself and stop this madness! …haha...

A couple of weeks ago I was talking to a co-worker who was giddy about an upcoming date she had with this guy that she had been very interested in for a while. It seemed he was finally coming around after all this time!

Today I come across my co-worker as I was heading out the door. (Yay! Quittin’ time!) I stopped for a quick update…

“Hey, how’s it going with your guy?” I asked her.

She sighed deeply. “Well…,” she responded with a confused look on her face. Uh-oh, I know this look.

She went into her story about when they went out and what a great time they had. He even called her the next day! …And then he put her off and they haven’t talked since.

Co-worker: “Oh Outdoorsy Girl, I just don’t understand! I know I didn’t do anything to him. He said he had a great time! Hell, he even called to tell me he did. If he really didn’t like me to begin with, why did he act like he did?”

I stood in silence for a few moments. Was I talking to myself in the mirror, again? I blinked hard. No, she’s too tall and too brunette to be my own reflection. Good then, a sane conversation.

Me: “Well, if you ever figure out what happened, please fill me in. Maybe it will explain away some of my mysteries.”

Co-Worker: “But you don’t understand! He acted like he liked me. He said he liked me.”

Me: “I don’t understand? You don’t understand! I am a magnet for this type of flawed men. I have even given this particular disease from which they all suffer a name!”

Co-worker: (Giggling) “So what is it?”

Me: “It’s called the Trent-Ross Syndrome. The symptoms consist of perpetual wishy-washiness, leading women on, and forgetting to call.”

Co-Worker: (Laughing louder now) “And how did you come up with that name?”

Me: “Oh, my best friend and I spliced together the names of two men we dated around the same time who had all the symptoms. There is no known cure as of date, but at least we know its name.” ...(And we all know that knowing is half the battle!)

She vowed to find the antidote and I started out the door. Man, I can’t believe that there are so many men out there like that! I felt a little bit of relief upon discovering that I am not the only one who meets these jokers. If there is a man within a fifty-mile radius who doesn’t really know what he wants out of life, is on the rebound, is wishy-washy, or suffers from full-blown Trent-Ross Syndrome, they will find their way to my door. Hmmm. Maybe Co-worker and I had dated the same guy. I ran back to the door and opened it.

“Hey, Co-worker, what is that guy’s name again?”

She tells me. I have never dated anyone by that name. I make a mental note to myself to be wary of any man I may meet by that particular name. Lord knows, I’ll probably run into him at the grocery store.