Zeek | I’ll Say Goodbye and Let You Go: A Dating Story

Abigail Pickus
I’ll Say Goodbye and Let You Go: A Dating Story, p.4

When he does finally call, days later, in the evening, offering no apology, our conversation is forced. He has a lot going on at work, he says, and is a bit overwhelmed and has some friends needing his attention, but that still doesn’t explain why he hasn’t made it a priority to call me or check in – why he isn’t thinking of me. The good news is he is coming to my big event the next night, he says, only he doesn’t use the words, Good News, but he does say he is coming to hear my introduction and to hear the author speak, but he can’t stay for the reception because he has to get back to the office to prepare for some big, important meeting – only he doesn’t call it a Big Important Meeting. And he doesn’t ask me for plans over the weekend, either, which isn’t good since it’s already almost the weekend and my schedule’s already filling up, with plans I don’t want.

The evening of my event, Seth shows up and I see him before I have to get on stage. I approach him, happy and flushed, and he looks small and frail and serious. I lean in to give him a kiss and he gives me a quick hug instead, the kind I imagine he gives his great-aunt. He leaves without saying goodbye. And then days pass, without a word. I can’t take it anymore so I give in and call him at work. After his secretary transfers my call to his office he picks up by calling out my first and last name with forced cheer, like I’m the next contestant on the Price is Right. But he doesn’t seem concerned that we haven’t spoken in a while and only asks what I’ve been up to. And then he tells me something worrisome: the rainy weather, it seems, has been wearing him out. He even had to go to bed early the other night, a night of one of my events – a night when, despite the rain, I kept hoping he would walk through the doors of the Belly-Up Bar, just like the last time, only he never showed – never, it seems, because of the “weather situation,” which sent him straight to bed. Is that a red flag, I wonder. Then I ask if he wants to see me over the weekend and he doesn’t say yes but instead, Let me look at my calendar and after a slight pause he says that Friday and Saturday nights aren’t good. Why not? I ask. Friday I’m seeing a “friend,” he said, and Saturday I’m watching a college football game. Does he have someone else? I wonder. In the end we decide on Tuesday night, for dinner.

But after we hang up I have a bad feeling in my stomach. I think back to those long, lonely nights when I was married - nights where my ex holed up in front of his computer, his back to me as he worked or, just as often, playing video games. Once, desperate, I even sat down at his feet and looked up at him so that I could see his face while I told him about my day. “Why don’t you look at me?” I asked. In a flash he turned and bore his eyes into mine. “Is that better?” he spat.

Worried that I’m falling for another man who can’t let me in, I call Stephanie. I tell her about the rain wearing Seth out. Ooooh, she says, it sounds like he’s depressed. I tell her about the “friend.” It could be that he’s dating someone else, she says. Then I say that it doesn’t feel like he’s excited to see me or to be with me. In fact, I didn’t even get the impression that he noticed that it had been nearly two weeks since we last spoke. Should I cancel our date? But Stephanie, ever moderate, tells me to wait until he calls on Friday to decide for sure. I agree -- and then change my mind as soon as I’ve hung up the phone and send him an email right that second. “Hi, Seth,” I write. “On second thought, Tuesday night doesn’t work. Sorry.”

And so it ends. I never hear back from him. Maybe because after so many of his own disappointments he figured I was telling him goodbye – so he disappeared instead of having to face another rejection. Or perhaps he was he secretly ready to call it quits and just didn’t have the heart to end it first. In truth, my email wasn’t a goodbye at all. It was actually a dare: Come after me, it said. Prove to me that I matter.

While Seth himself was soon forgotten, something else remained. After so many starts and stops, so many dates that turned to dating that either petered out or disappeared overnight, even something like this –something never given the chance to take root – leaves a scar. A scar that covers up the last scar, which covers up the one before that: this one for the man who knocked me down; this for the man who picked me up and then kept right on walking. Eventually all of this sadness and hurt, all of this disappointment and loneliness, will break free. And only then will I feel a great relief. Only then will I know when to cast away stones and when to gather them to my heart.

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Image: Deva Suckerman, Inside