“He’s taking me out for dinner tomorrow!”
I leaped off my couch in the same animalistic way that my boyfriend does when Marseille scores. I had every reason to: one of my best girlfriends, known here as Loggy, was finally going to dinner with her Big Crush of 2018!
It had been a long time coming. You see, Mr. Big Crush happens to also be her colleague. Not a supervisor or subordinate, yet somebody she works with closely enough to place them in murky dating waters. They started chatting at her desk and between meetings, which then led to post-work happy hours, which then led to a three-hour pub lunch during one of the winter snowstorms. She was left with a crush that she harbored all through Spring. I was left doing a weekly evaluation of his behavior, which swung pendulum between friendly, mentor-like, and flirtatious, with no direct moves on his end.
Then, last week, he asked her out to dinner – or, rather, he converted their lunch plans into dinner plans. But still! Dinner! And not just anywhere, but at Riverpark by their office, a nice restaurant where tiny portions of designer food are artfully laid out on enormous white plates! Needless to say, we were very excited.
I knew it was a bad sign when she called me at 9pm the following night to report back.
“It was nice, but I’m not sure if he likes me,” she said.
“What do you mean? Was the conversation good? More importantly, did you guys drink?!” I needed to know the important stuff.
“He couldn’t drink much. He had to meet his trainer at 8:30,” she replied.
The best thing about my friend is that, although she is very smart, she is also a little bit clueless. It’s charming really, not to mention rare in a city like New York. She truly didn’t think much of the fact that the man had squeezed her in between work and Equinox.
Not entirely confident in my own judgment, I decided to hit up my boyfriend, who pretty much stopped sugar-coating life for me after Month 3. I explained the situation, then started delving into hypotheses. “Maybe he’s just taking it slow? Maybe he doesn’t want to mess up their work dynamic?”
“No,” French Yoda interrupted me. “With guys, it’s not that complicated.” He went on to explain that when a guy likes a girl, his prerogative is to sleep with her. He may not necessarily make an aggressive move, but he most certainly won’t self-cockblock with a post-dinner gym session!
I relayed this to my friend. She mentally cut him off, then started flirting with him again three days later.
This past Friday night, he sent her a drunk “r u out?” text. On Saturday night, I decided that I was tired of him hijacking month of her life – time that could be spent discussing my problems instead! We had to test this sucker.
I took away her phone and asked if he wanted to meet for a nightcap. He responded with some dumb unrelated question, then added that he had a hangover.
Et voilà. It was all figured out. The nonsense we had been dealing with for months was wiped off the table with one direct inquiry. Of course he then counteracted with more texts, but it was too late. By then, her Relationship Manager had firmly established that he wasn’t worth her pinky finger and had pronounced the case closed.
I know that there is nothing revolutionary about this story. That “friend zoning” and “benching” are popular colloquial terms, and that somebody already cashed out on a book titled “He’s Just Not That Into You.” Nonetheless, I constantly see people launching Robert Mueller-worthy investigations into whether so-and-so is interested in them, decrypting each emoji as a clue to the inner workings of their heart. And who can blame them, in an era of man-wimps who use attention as Muscle Milk for their damaged egos, and who think that they are still younglings at the ripe age of 35?
The main problem is, people like this are not just wasting their own time – they are also hijacking yours. They lure you into their futile games, they string you along the play field, and, before you know it, months fly by and you are back at square one. They are the Grinches that Steal Time – and you owe it to yourself to stop them.
I myself have wasted hours – months – years – deciphering Grinches. Last year alone, I met a guy who flirted with me throughout an entire wedding weekend but never pulled a move. Guess what? It turned out that he had a girlfriend. Then, I spent the entire summer obsessing over a man who seemed kind of into me – but was ALWAYS flaking at the last minute. Guess what? He wanted to have sex with tall blonde women, which I’m not. Oh, but they all kept me around, because I’m SO entertaining!
Funny story: the minute I cut off the flake, I met my boyfriend. He didn’t have a girlfriend, nor did he want to have sex with tall blonde women (save Rosie Huntington-Whiteley). At least for the time being, I am the sole nuisance in his life – and it feels pretty damn good.
Life is short, kids. Cut off the Grinches. Save space for the ones who put you in first place.
