Dating a writer

I am dating a writer- a critical writer- at that! Am I or was I? I was…then it all went south. The tragedy is that it might have been my misuse of commas while I texted or my gross grammatical errors in the name of trying to save energy while typing, who does that? It was good, the dating not the typing. It was good while it lasted, but then what lasts these days? Five months… five months of unbridled pleasure and passion and then silence…unexplained,cold, bitchy silence.!No phone calls, no texts, nothing from the brilliant writer. My one unanswered call and a text in three weeks is  enough indication that things aren’t right. I have read all there is about breakups and the one advice that i shouldn’t call or text is proving to be a tall order to execute . So before i succumb i decided to pen it down.

  I thought dating this brilliant mind would open endless vistas of ideas in my brain, I thought somehow all that brilliance would rub into me- talk of being vain- and by sheer luck, I might pin the next blockbuster novel or movie, or even come up with the best thesis ever. Well I was wrong, we never argued and of course we never discussed any great ideas, we never even talked about anything other than the humdrum of life and lastly his brilliance never rubbed on me. I should have been wiser!

Problem is, I honestly believed that this would work… not the soaking of the brilliance but the affair. After all we felt it way back, why did it all go wrong? It must be this football thing- does the club that a guy support really matter in a relationship? I really should ask the next one man I meet which English football club he supports prior to becoming serious. There is some sort of tragedy every time I date any guy who supports Chelsea or Manchester United and it seems I have the bad luck of meeting these guys. So I am writing a reminder to myself to stay away from the above. After all I am a woman and I don’t give a hoot about football and no, we never argued about my dislike for soccer and yes I listened eagerly without pretending when he talked about his team! I know this might sound like a lie but I am a good listener, a pretty good one!

I do not know why he left. He never gave any bloody explanation! I can withstand a breakup but somehow the men I date seem to think if they say they are leaving, I might have a heart attack or break something.  Truth is, I  consider myself a  damn strong woman who can take anything! But that is a story for another day.

So I am writing this as a way of finding some sort of closure. I need it to move on and if I don’t write it out, this story will torture me until I scribble it all over the place. So Mr critical writer, did I lack intellectual acumen that could stimulate your brilliance? Was it my misplaced commas and dangling modifiers? Or my sheng texts which competed with your high brow English? Or was it my disinterest in soccer? What exactly went wrong? Did i say anything unbecoming? Did i deny you anything? Did I fail to meet your expectations? or did your desire for me wane? I actually thought this was working. Whatever it was, your indifference actually hurts. It really does. Every gal deserves an explanation- even if it’s a damn lie why things aren’t working. I enjoyed the illusion, because in hindsight, it just looks like that. I wish I never believed anything that you said-especially those declarations of love, but its too late for regret, fare thee well Mr critical writer!

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