Pump Your Brakes

Recently I needed to have my truck fixed. It so happened that the tow truck driver who arrived for my roadside assistance knew a guy who could fix it for cheap, and more importantly, do the repair that afternoon. Great! I asked the tow truck driver to drive me by an auto part store, I bought the part needed for the repair and once back home, waited for the fix-it-guy’s arrival. It was a happy happenstance because my only other option was what could have been a lengthy and costly trip to the auto repair shop…

I have nothing against auto repair shops, in general, but I am wary of going to one without at least a good recommendation. I have been given the shaft one time too many at a shop with disreputable repair people who don’t think twice of trying to pull a fast one on a female customer. It pisses me off even more because I am not totally ignorant of auto repairs. So when they try to screw me, I can tell and the whole visit takes on a hostile air as I go into combat mode. In this case, if I could avoid a potential confrontation, especially when money is tight, and as a single parent who needs her vehicle for everything, even better.

The guy who arrived to fix my truck was nice. He knew his stuff, it was what he did for a living and he was very knowledgeable. He got the part replaced in a few hours. It was money well spent. It had gotten dark (thanks Winter) while I waited for him to arrive, so I assisted by holding a flashlight and handing him tools, whatever I could do to lend a hand since he was doing me a favor (even if it was a paid favor) by replacing this part for me in the parking lot of my apartment complex on a Thursday evening. No complaints on the level of work. My truck got fixed. Fantastic.

Unfortunately what started out as a normal conversation, soon spiraled out of control. I am either out of practice engaging men in conversation that hints of flirtation after being in a married state for the better part of my adulthood OR I am really bad at reading the signs of when men are sniffing at my proverbial skirts. (Or maybe this guy was just a scumbag?) Here’s what went down:

Idle chit chat. Spoke about being new to Texas, and how I am going back to school–and as a result I don’t know many people unless they were in my classes. We spoke about auto repair, how I am somewhat familiar but less apt to attempt any repairs on my own now that it’s my only vehicle and live in an apartment complex. He spoke on his interest in cars, about his auto repair education and career and next thing I know the conversation turns to innuendo.

At first I thought it was benign. I am used to working with dudes, and at least in the military it seemed that sex was not far from their minds. Back then, I chalked it up to the general immaturity of men and the brotherhood in a military environment that regresses their mental state to that of an adolescent still in high school (of which many of these individuals enlisted directly from…).

So I didn’t pay too much heed to this guy’s statements. I attempted to redirect the conversation so it wouldn’t devolve into frank talk of a sexual nature, and I thought I had succeeded. Luckily the repair was complete at this point and now it came time to test the truck and make sure it ran as it should, and putting away tools and such.

Then he began to hint around that he would like to take me out. I didn’t expect that, and because he was making it out to seem like it was just a casual thing–people getting to know each other by going to the movies together, I accepted. In the back of my mind I thought that I should do like my kids said and get out and meet people. So why not? We exchanged information, we made the plans and parted.

Later that same evening, I am in my apartment, minding my own business and now this dude is blowing up my phone texting me and dropping hints that he’ll be up late if I wanted to talk. Ok, thanks for the info, guy… I am not likely to want to text him at this point, I am spending the rest of the evening watching Redbox movies with my bro and my kids and I had mentioned as much before he left, duh.

Then, it’s after midnight, my bro has gone home, and my kids are asleep and I was reading a book, when I get additional texts. It is at this point that I realize I have made a grave error in accepting to go on a “date” with this guy because he makes it quite clear that his endgame is to get me in bed. Really? WTF.

I have scrutinized my half of the conversation from earlier in the evening, and I had made a pointed effort to NOT mention any personal details regarding my relationship status, my divorce, or any of that especially because I didn’t want to give the impression that I was lonely and looking for “male” attention and/or booty call.

Perhaps he interpreted my statement that I didn’t know many people in Texas to mean many men. I meant PEOPLE. I barely know five folks in Texas, my brother not included, and I met them all on campus. I’m going to give him the benefit of the doubt and say he may have been confused, and perhaps not had much experience with people (women?) who said exactly what they meant.

So I sent him a text back and very clearly explained that I was declining his offer of a movie+whatever because I was not in the least interested in sleeping with anyone casually or as the prelude to something more serious. I wanted none of it. I was very clear. It was a very direct text. I don’t mislead or participate in double speak: No I will not have sex with you. No we will not go out tomorrow night. Thanks but no thanks. Kick rocks.

Despite my clear refusal, the next day I get another text. “Are we still on 4 later?” WTF. Seriously? After all of that you aren’t sure? My reply: NO. I thought that would be the end of that…

Several hours later: Alright.

Another hour after that: Sure, whatever.

Then the following week on Tuesday: Why do you act like you don’t want to go out with me?

What the hell? I did not reply, and so far he has not replied back. Hopefully he figured it out.

So that was my first near-adventure with dating post-divorce. I am not ashamed to say it actually hurt my feelings that he wasn’t actually interested in my company but rather just thought I was an easy lay. It insults me to the core to think I gave that impression. This situation has reaffirmed for me that I am not interested in the complications that arise from trying to navigate the relationship between people. I

am not cut out for casual dating. I can count on one hand the number of guys I “dated” before I got engaged then married. I had plenty of experience not dating, if you catch my drift. Maybe it was because of the very shallow pool of relationship experience that in part led me to make the grievous error of a long term relationship with mr horrible.  Maybe I just have bad taste in men. Maybe I am all jacked up in the head and can’t discern the good ones from the assholes and make bad choices based on faulty input information.

Whatever the case is, I am resolute to continue my sabbatical from romantic entanglements (casual or otherwise).