“Can I see you again?”
“Why? Can I ask why?”
“You were going to take me to The Knight’s Inn. A motel. Really? What was going to come next hmmm? There wasn’t a thought process here. And that is why. Goodbye, have a good evening. You [insert appropriate insulting name here].”
I curtsied and walked in the opposite direction. My hands were frozen, and so were my feet. But I’d walk all the way back to the opposite side of town, because my insides were burning a hole and my head was on fire.
We’re all broken individuals, you know? And when the gravity of that statement sinks in you’ll need a glass of wine, or a shot of something stronger than water. But let it sink in and seep through you. Because it’s true. Perhaps I forgot this simple truth and placed my hope on a pedestal, perhaps I’ve always kept it up there. That being the case I became subject to my own judgment and for that matter, I’ve also thrown myself under the scrutiny of others.
Let me break it down. Prior to welcoming in 2015 I was involved in a few episodes that were less than pretty. A car accident, a victim of major money fraud, to name a few. I was sitting on the toilet in the Tap & Tankard, telling myself that this year wouldn’t be like last year. This year, I’d take over. Whatever that means. I was still giving myself a pep-talk when I heard them start the count down. Yes I started off 2015 on the toilet.
On to better things am I, and it’s why this next bit is relevant.
Against my better judgement, I gave my number to a younger fellow I met while I was shopping after work. I guess I wanted to try something new in the dating realm. Who doesn’t? He was attractive, tall (a major asset for a taller lady such as myself), smart and athletic. So I thought, hey why not?
For a first date the dinner went well, conversationally it was nice and I thought to myself; “This is a pretty cool person, I can see myself with him.”
We went for a walk afterwards and it was nice to just “be”, chat and let loose a little. He asked me what I like to do and I said “Well I’m this hugely popular blogger who raises awareness for blood donations and AML”…I asked him what he was interested in these days and he said “Well I’m trying out to be on the Olympic team for Tae Kwon Do…” And I’m serious, he is. I couldn’t help but think that this guy has got to be too good to be real. At one point I think I even reached out and patted his shoulder to reassure myself that I was indeed awake. He thought that was cute.
Then, as Steve Martin puts it, came the boom. We were walking and I noticed a motel a bit ways off in the distance and joked about how sketchy this place seemed. I said out loud “This is a sketchy place, where are you taking me?” with what I think was a sneer. I wasn’t being facetious. Immediately I begin to flush this date down the “dating-realm’s” toilet. Gawd. Too good to be true. Why would a first date go well on a whim anyway right?
He didn’t get it but instead laughed and said, “Wait here.” He walked over to the Open sign on the motel. My jaw dropped and I think my body turned into a zombie. I froze completely. I mean I don’t even think Elsa could have thawed me out, no matter how well she’d figured out that love is the answer. He made his way back to me and I called out “Were you actually planning on taking me here?”
“Yeah, I was going to take you to another place up the road but that would’ve been $200.”
In my head; not even a $200 motel would make me want to spend another moment with you.
He started saying something else, and I cut him off with, “How old are you?”
“Twenty, just kidding nineteen, kidding twenty. Why does it matter?”
Because I am allowed to have standards you piece of poop.
I told him basically, I was better than this, that the only reason I was in Canada was because my mother passed away and I am an unbelievably awesome person that he was lucky to meet and have dinner with. Yeah. Bow Down.
I finished off with, “And if you’ll excuse me, I need to call my sister and catch a ride home.”
He had the audacity to ask why and if he could see me again.
“No,” I answered.
And that’s where we started on this lovely post.
I was in downtown Oshawa and booked it back to the shopping centre. A car honked at me and I threw them the middle finger. A man called out to me and I yelled, “Merry Christmas f**ker.” Yeah I was mad. I was so mad. Because I’d gone and done something almost as equally disheartening as having been a victim of fraud. I was a victim of simply hoping too high that this guy would turn out to be better than the regular shmuck. But I was wrong. Again I was wrong. WRONG.
“Ugh, how could this be?!” I asked myself, “How come good people get burned? Why on earth is this a thing? Is this going to be my M.O.?? Is 2015 going to be no better than messed up 2014?? Goodness gracious!!”
A younger girl walking past jumped as I yelled the last bit.
My sister picked me up in the parking lot of the shopping centre and we both laughed at the stupidity of this young [choose curse word and insert here] guy. Asking questions like “How could he think that this was ok?” or “He didn’t pick up on my subtle signals, which weren’t so subtle.”
I know, I know it could have been way worse. But you have to understand how many times I’ve said that sentence in the last month; “It could have been way worse.” It doesn’t discount the fact that this was not ideal, this was incredibly shitty. That again I had been “had” so to speak. No it wasn’t my mother, my money or my vehicle. It was a small seemingly insignificant situation proving once again I was incredibly too trusting. My conclusion; he is a pig and deserves harsh judgment, but it isn’t my responsibility to dole that out to him. For me, I was able to leave, walk away and forget about it.
Other women aren’t as fortunate.
How on earth does this tie in with my first paragraph. Quite frankly that this, all of this, stemmed from a sequence of brokenness. And, perhaps I’m a desperate individual too broken, dealing with other broken desperate people, and so I keep finding myself in broken situations. Does that make sense? I know some of you can top this happenstance. For me, it’s the gravity of what happened, what it means more than the simple actions that occurred.
Judgment. Such a harsh word. Now I’m sat with this blog post on one side of my computer screen and a word document on the other, I’m writing to a hypothetical Your Honour about my car accident, attempting to explain to him/her why I am a good person who doesn’t deserve the ticket I was issued.
I accept that I wasn’t where I should be. I am thankful nothing more serious happened. I am a conscientious driver, cautious and I follow the posted speed limits…
I am pleading innocent because I am not a careless driver.
My thoughts are whirling and I repeat the bolded line out loud and say it over and over again, taking out certain words, leaving others in:
I am pleading innocent because I am not careless.
I am innocent.
I am not careless.
I keep running the scene from A Knight’s Tale in my head when the evil knight is lying on his back and everyone circles around him. I’m not the evil knight in this scene, but I still feel the weight of the words:
What will the conclusion be…not only for this, but just: everything?