Sooooo…I’ve been dating this guy, who I like to call Mr. Anderson, because he looks like the very handsome Mr. Anderson Cooper, and everything was going so well……
We talked for hours, laugh at the same things, he likes my cooking, and, well–the man even Dances. He’s smart too. And snarky and sarcastic like me. And has a very interesting past.
He’s basically Awesome to be around…..
So the other night, we went out, had a great time–dancing, laughing, meeting new people, etc. I even agonized over dresses and shoes–which ones are the most flattering??
Then we went home to his place, where he promised me that it was only so that I could sleep on a bed for once, instead of a couch.
I giggled internally when he said sternly and with conviction, “I swear! No Hanky-Panky Required!”
Ha! Two hours later I was in his pajamas, and we were having one last drink before bed, and he told me that he, “Loved Me To Pieces.”
I’m not sure if that counts as an official, “I Love You,” but if not, it’s pretty damn close.
And then this happened:
He Called Me By My Sister’s Name.
The Evil Twin Sister That I Hate And Have Been Trying To Separate Myself From For My ENTIRE Life.
In less than ten minutes, I was changed back into my clothes and stomping out the door while screaming, “ARE YOU SERIOUS??!” in my pretty dress and my $100 three-inch heels that I bought to speak in Toronto with in 2012. He ran after me to the front door, insisting over and over again that he really did know my name.
I walked home in the freezing weather, seething, at 4am.
He messaged me today with another apology, even saying that he would go to the Moon and back for me.
I made a snarky comment in response, and he hasn’t spoken to me since. Finally, this evening, I messaged him that I accept his apology and forgive him. Nothing.