Don’t Hate the Player, Hate the Game

Posted by Potted Plant
on May 8, 2008

It all started at a singles party. I didn’t even want to go, but my friend dragged me, kicking and screaming making it clear that my couch, a cheesy movie and glass of wine were not going to happen that Saturday night. The party was at a friend’s house and as we walked through the door and into the abyss of attractive single people in their late twenties, I felt my heart sink. These types of events always make my skin crawl. On the outside you would think I am good at it – I was wearing a sexy shirt, seductive hair and make-up and had that mysterious aloof look on my face. As I entered the room, several people came up to say hello and I was greeted by a string of mild acquaintances that looked equally calm and cool, except for their awkward hugs.

In these situations the first thing one does it head straight to the bar. I made my way over to get a glass of wine. As I turned around, his friend came up to me. His friend was the host of the party and wanted to introduce himself. His friend was interested, I was not. We stood there for fifteen minutes chit-chatting - I am very good at making conversation I have no interest in. He walks over to say hello to his friend. Our eyes connect and I know he is interested. He doesn’t care that his friend is interested in me and neither do I. We ditch the friend and start talking in a corner by ourselves. I push the tiny attraction I have to him to the back of my mind because I am not really looking for someone right now – I was just getting over a hellish return of the ex. He starts telling me about his job and we realize we are working on similar projects. He suggests we get together to chat more and I agree.

Two days later I call him. Two days after that he calls me. Two days after that we meet for brunch. We decide to grab coffee in a small café and we chat for an hour or so. We really do have a lot in common and he is quite fascinating. My guard is down and my radar is off – like I said, I wasn’t looking for someone. We walk out of the coffee shop and I start to give my polite “nice to meet you”. He suggests we go for a walk for a little – a little turns into 4 hours. We walk and walk and walk and talk and talk and talk. At one point we start holding hands. At another point, we are on a top of a hill in a heated conversation about social welfare and he pecks my forehead mid-sentence. We sit on a park bench and he tells me he has been trying hard not to kiss me. I burst out laughing – I read that line somewhere – how cheesy. He kisses me anyway.

Two weeks pass by and we chat and flirt over email and the phone. Our lives are so busy and it is almost 3 weeks before decide to have dinner again. I bail last minute because of a hysterically crying friend that shows up at my doorstep. At 10pm, I call him and he suggests I go over to his place. With a boldness that I never knew existed in me, I say yes. I have never had a FWB, but at this point in my life, it doesn’t seem like a bad idea. All my girlfriends seem to think I need to do that at least once in my life. We spend hours chatting and making out. Somewhere in the middle of it all, he tells me he doesn’t want a relationship right now – his life is too hectic. I don’t seem to care because I don’t want one either.

We continue to see each other casually on and off for a few weeks. Most of the time we just spend hours talking about the things going on in his life. He thinks I am smart. I am excited a man appreciates that about me. I tell him he needs to stop talking so much and put out more – where are the benefits, I ask? He laughs.

One night, he comes over after a hard day of work and basically pours his heart out about how scared he is about failing at his new venture. He needs someone in his life to talk to about all this conflict in his head. I ask him if that is me, because it feels like that sometimes. He turns to me and says, he could not date me. I am shocked. No one has ever said that to me before. He says I made it easy – I was too accommodating. Dating is a game and if you make it easy for a guy to be with you, then he wants to be with you less.

He leaned in and kissed me softly and put his hands in my hair (a habit he had started to develop) and told me that he could have been with me, if I hadn’t made it so easy – I was smart and beautiful and incredibly kind. I told him to get the hell out of my life and never call me again.  I had heard that line before.

He was a player and I had just been gamed.

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