Strength, thy name is not Melanie

Urgh.  I had a moment of weakness.  Go ahead, give me that look.  And I know the lecture is coming, too.  Get it over with. 

I emailed Mr. Too Many Words.

I know, I know!  I probably shouldn't have.  Okay, I really shouldn't have.  Standing my ground and respecting my values are two of my top selling points!  Why was I so easily led away from my usual path of uprightness?, you ask.  The answer is even worse than the pathetic action itself.  Looks.  He's hot, Singletons.   If asked to describe the physical characteristics of my ideal man to a sketch artist, I'm pretty sure it would look a lot like his profile picture on Match. 

For weeks now, I've had an almost endless stream of men emailing, texting, inviting meeting me places (after I coordinated the "date," don't forget).  And then all of a sudden, silence.  I felt like that scene from "The Neverending Story" where Bastian is sitting in front of the Empress after The Nothing had consumed the world.   The contact I was getting from Mr. Baggage was odd and sporatic.  Sunday was filled from a.m. to p.m. (and then back into a.m.  I'll get to that...) with a non-stop conversation of text messages.  Although they were usually about his ex-fiance, his heartbreak, his loneliness and other melodrama, at least it was communication.  I chalked it up to the fact that he'd been off the market for a long time and may not be as astute as I was to the Dos and Don'ts of twenty-first century dating.  Or dating in any century for that matter.  I was willing to take this as an excuse until (I know what you're thinking, there always seems to be an "until," but let me finish) I got a midnight text message.  Midnight.  As in five hours before I have to get out of bed and attempt to be awake enough to not only prepare myself for a day of work but also maneuver through Atlanta traffic without killing myself or anyone else...on a good day.

Now, to clarify, I am a texter.  I love the medium.  It lends itself so well to online dating, and I'm happy to find someone who agrees.  But, if I've never met you in person and you think it's appropriate to text message me at midnight to comment about a sports game, then we've become entirely too familiar entirely too fast.  Within seven hours, I started receiving even more texts (and no, I did not respond to the midnight one, which was ended with "I hope this didn't wake you up.")  asking what I was doing, if I was going to work today, if I'd gotten his text from the night before, et cetera, et cetera, et certera.  Oh yes, I got it.  Rest assured.  So, when I arrived at work, I responded, cheerfully saying that I was glad he enjoyed the game the night before (it was a good one, I'll admit) and that I hoped he had a good day.  Even though he initially eluded to us "maybe" going to a game Wednesday, as in tonight, I haven't heard a peep since my response.  Could I have possibly turned him off with my lack of response to a midnight text message?  I'm clueless, people.  Completely clueless.  So, I started questioning my sense of propriety and wondered if my obviously higher standards had prevented me from making a connection. Then, of course, my brain went wild.  Hence, the email to Mr. Too Many Words.

In my message, I asked him if he'd like to start over.  I haven't heard back.  But, I did check out his newly revamped profile.  Good grief.  It's like it was written by a college English professor.  He's eloquent, descriptive, even grandiose with his mastery of the English language.  Could this be in response to my aggravation with his lack of words?  Hmm...maybe.  But, he very clearly used, in his own words, "many words" to describe himself, what he's looking for and the kind of relationship he's interested in, never mentioning sex or the lack thereof.  He's come a long way since our conflict last week.

So, I'm not sure what scenario I want to play out here.  Do I want him to write me back and would I be able to see past his possibly innocent mistake of going too far too fast?  Or do I just hate negative interactions with people and am making one last attempt to mend the fences?  We'll see I guess.  See, not a completely shallow excuse. Now get that disapproving look of your face.