Hilarity Ensues With “He’s Not Just That Into You” Contest Winners
posted by: Amber Johnson
Some years ago I met and connected instantly with a guy. He was charming and made me feel like the center of the universe. I was the only woman in the crowd. I was perfect for him. The boy’s name is Darrin (like the character from bewitched). Darrin is interchangeable with Derwood, Derdum or Dumbell with Derwood being preferred.
Derdum and I dated for 2 years. There were hints that he would not be my future husband (spoiler alert), but I was living in the moment. After a brief separation I found myself pregnant. Derwood did “the right thing” and we moved in together when I was 6 months pregnant. We managed on little money, little feeling like fun due to 40+ pregnancy pounds and hormones raging. We had a beautiful baby girl, let’s call her Tabitha. She was colicky and that did little to ease our new parent stress. I just figured we would tough it out and make the best of our situation. Derwood was a waiter at a restaurant and would work lunches, dinners and then go to work at a large shipping company at night. Maybe, my first sign that he was just not that into me was that he chose to never be home.
One night he called to say he would be working late at the restaurant. While this was many years ago, the feature of call waiting had been developed and was in use. He was not calling me from work and he had not been placed under a spell. He had gone voluntarily to his “just friends’ house. Derwood had many attributes; unawareness was not one of them. He was telling me loud and clear, “I’m just not that into you!” I found the strength of 10 women that night. I moved his furniture, clothing decorations, lamps etc into the small second room and locked him out. He returned home sometime later and said, “Wow, feel better?” And actually I did.
Tabitha is now a fabulous 11-year-old young woman. I still have to deal with Dumbell, but I would like thank him for telling me “I’m just not that into you.” So that I could find an amazing husband and find how lovely a relationship can be.
I spent the better part of my college years falling all over a guy we’ll call Zane. I first zeroed in on Zane in Sociology 101. He made thoughtful contributions during class and looked really cute in the baseball cap he wore every day to class. He also lived one floor above me in the dorm, so I made sure to take every opportunity for small talk with him on the walk back from class. When the semester ended and we moved out of the dorm. . .I lost track of him. Bummer.
Fast-forward two years. By virtue of what I was sure to be fate, Zane and I wound up in the same linguistics class. I did whatever it took to sit close to him and make my presence known, and through the magic of proximity, we wound up as class partners. Zane and I began going to each other’s apartments a couple of times a week to work on homework. “Give me a call” was his signature sendoff. So I did. I called him whenever I had the flimsiest reason to do so. Finally, he said, “We should get dinner sometime.”
YES!! A date! So I bought a new sweater and curled my hear and bragged to all of my roommates that my persistence and subtle flirting had finally paid off. But the dinner never happened. Because Zane forgot. I had been stood up.
Naturally, I found it in my heart to write it off as forgetfulness. Silly guy. Oh well.
A few weeks later in class, I happened to overhear a girl who knew Zane from high school ask him if he was seeing anyone. “Yeah, I’m still seeing Emily,” he said. My throat froze. Who was Emily?
I found out soon enough that Emily was his girlfriend of several months. Zane had neglected to tell me about her–presumably because he didn’t want me to stop fawning over him during our homework dates. I later found out that he also enjoyed our friendship because it made Emily jealous to keep hearing about the female linguistics class partner that she had never met.
A couple of years later, Zane bumped into one of my best friends and in the course of their conversation told her that he “felt really bad about the whole Alana thing.” And I’m sure he did. I had tried so hard to make him like me, and he did. He thought I was a really smart, cool girl. But he just wasn’t that into me.
Luckily for me, all my forays into the dating world happened before the advent of social networks, instant communication and GPS tracking devices.
I had just graduated from college and was in a serious relationship. He wasn’t finished with college yet, and we lived in neighboring cities. He would stay with me, and vice versa, but because of his class schedule, I did most of the driving up to see him.
Imagine my surprise when one of my girlfriends told me that she and some of her friends had seen him and asked him about my plans for the weekend, and he told them that he didn’t know. Why should he?
They said, “Well, she’s your girlfriend. Is she coming up this weekend or not?”
And, that’s when he told them that I wasn’t his girlfriend. He wasn’t my boyfriend. We weren’t in a relationship, and he defined what we had as “purely coincidental.”
I was devastated. Why would he say these lies, let alone say them out loud in front of some of my closest friends!? What was he thinking?
That weekend, I confronted him. He lied. I told him calmly that his lying had just sealed the deal. We were done.
Then he backpedaled, admitting everything and begged me to forgive him.
I was too hurt, and it was too late. We broke up, and I took all of my things out of his house.
He called me every day to apologize. So, I did what many do. I fell for him all over again.
This time, I could tell that things weren’t going as smoothly as they should. But, that made me try even harder. Things got better for a while, but then they started to fade again.
That winter, I fell down the stairs at his house, severely injuring my thumb. Having to ask if he’d drive me to the ER (rather than have him offer) should have been the first clue. Hearing him say, “No, it’s cold and I’m tired,” said it loud and clear.
The relationship was over. It was cold, and he was tired. Of me. Of pretending to be happy. Of the whole thing.
He told me we were done, and I knew that we were.
I burst into tears. It was hard to tell which hurt more: my thumb or my heart.
Once again, I packed up my things and left. I drove myself to the ER so that my injured thumb could be examined and tended to, and then to a friend’s house to nurse my wounded heart. I cried on her shoulder, literally, and my new life started that day.
I kept thinking about how much time I’d wasted on a struggling relationship, only to be dumped so harshly the second time around. But, what they say is true. Hindsight is 20/20. Time is never wasted if you learn from the experiences. Looking back, all of this had to happen to lay the foundation for what I have now.