I was housesitting/babysitting for my sister Sunday night. She had four television remotes, and it seems that not one of them actually controlled the television. I just love that. I had taken my computer, but I could not connect to her wireless internet. I forgot to bring a book, so I did what any girl would do. I used my laptop to watch her copy of "He's Just Not That Into You". I read the book long before they made the movie. The movie is kind of horrible as far as morality goes. But the principles in the book are far more accurate than women want to believe. When a boy is not calling or texting or asking you out, he is just not that into you. This is almost always the case. I haven't always known this. I was naive. I used to be hopeful when a guy didn't call. I made reasonable little excuses for him in my head. And then life happened. I was abandoned by a fiance (you can read about that here), was lied to multiple times by other guys, was left waiting for phone calls that would never come.
I blame Ray. Not completely, of course. Other jerks had come before him. And after him, for that matter. But Ray threw me off. He was handsome. Oh my, was he handsome. I admired him at church from afar. He was faithful to attend on Sunday mornings, but he always came with an incredibly pretty girl. So I kept my distance. Ray was roofer and a powerlifter. This meant a great tan and the most fabulous manly muscles. He was gorgeous. And I remember the night I got the news that he had called. I was downtown Nashville at an outdoor Sister Hazel concert with my best bud Elisa. I called home, and my brother told me that Ray had called and left a message. I know I danced a little dance at the thought of that. He called back the next day, I found out that he and the supermodel girlfriend had broken up, and we planned our first date. I could not believe that someone so good looking was interested in going out with me.
We went out for several weeks, maybe a month. He kept calling and asking me out, and I kept saying yes. He was fun and easy to get along with, and we seemed to have an equal amount of attraction to one another. He knew how to build things and fix things, and those were always my favorite kind of men. Then he told me he was going on a weekend trip. He was traveling to Alabama to visit his dad. This seemed like a reasonable thing to me. He had a cell phone, and I foolishly assumed that I would hear from him over the weekend. So we said our goodbyes, and I set out to spend the weekend without him. Friday night. No call. Saturday. No call. This didn't make sense to me, considering we both had cell phones. My not-yet-jaded mind began to make excuses for him. I was hopeful that there was a reason for his lack of communication. I thought through every possible scenario. Maybe he lost his cell phone. Maybe he lost my number. Maybe he forgot his charger, had no cell reception, or was abducted by aliens. By Sunday I had reached lunatic status. So I did it. The thing that most girls have done but never confess to. I did the crazy girl house drive-by. And you know what I saw? His car.
It turns out that my handsome muscle man Ray had gone to visit his dad in Alabama with his ex-wife. They drove her car, and he clearly knew how this information would be received by me, which is why he failed to mention it. When he returned home on Sunday, I made my decision to break up with him, which will be a whole other story for another time. Ray didn't seem to think that his behavior warranted a discussion, much less a breakup. And for the first time I realized that it was possible for me to actually date someone who didn't like me enough to be honest. He was just not that into me.
There were others, of course. Other guys who failed to call when they said they would or failed to make moves or never asked me out. And I tried to figure out what they were thinking. Oh the time I have wasted talking to girlfriends, analyzing conversations and playing a million games of "He loves me, He loves me not". So incredibly exhausting. Thankfully, I am over this. Mostly, anyway. I still get sucked into the game occasionally, but I always come back to the truth. It's the truth for me, anyway. If a guy is not calling, not texting, not asking me out, not communicating, it is not because he is intimidated by me. It is not because he has been hurt and is scared to try again. It is not because he is waiting for the right timing. It is not because he is shy. It's just because he does not like me or he doesn't want to date me. And while that truth can sometimes hurt, there is freedom in it. I do not have to plan or plot or scheme. I don't have to think to myself about how long I should wait before I call a guy because I don't call guys. I don't have to think about the best way to pursue because I don't pursue. You might say that's lazy. I say it's smart. Energy efficient, even.
For those girls who like the game, you are welcome to it. You can do all of the work of thinking through what a guy might be thinking. You can have a thousand conversations, and have your best friends assure you that the boy you like does indeed like you back. Maybe doing the work will get you a boyfriend sooner. I hope so for all of the effort you are putting into it. But me? I will be lying on my couch, bundled up in a zebra print snuggie, watching a million episodes of Friday Night Lights on Netflix on my new 42" flat screen television, and not thinking twice about who is not calling.