Jack and I spoke last week midweek. I’m not sure I will ever speak to him again.
He’d asked for a copy of the dating story about us I’d written for a local paper. We’d had a brief text exchange in which he said “you can text me anytime”, to which I replied given he was so bad at responding with any speed it didn’t make me want to text him. He said he was in therapy and was learning that not replying was a form of control for him.
I called him because I didn’t want my reply to be spread out over the course of several days. I said my issue was that a lack of response was inconsiderate and disrespectful. He sounded like crap. I asked if the therapy was helping and he said he’d had only two sessions so far. He said he’d talked to his ex-girlfriend which helped him process things, but she had little time for it because she had already worked through it. Shocker.
He also said that talking to her made it worse for him because he started to get reattached.
I expressed surprise given everything he said was wrong with their relationship for such a long time, and how “over it” he’d professed to be. He sighed a deep sigh and said he couldn’t explain it, that he knew it wasn’t the right relationship for him but he still wanted it.
I went on to say I doubted his insistence the breakup had nothing to do with how he felt about me. I was certain if I met someone with whom I felt such strong potential, I’d find a way to make it work, therefore it was hard for me to believe him. I said I wasn’t asking him a question because I didn’t think he’d be able to answer it yet: the clarity always came with time.
He did anyway, reiterating his “it’s not you, it’s me” position. He said everything he’d told me was true.
I left that conversation with a very real image of a man who was suffering something fierce. Who clearly had his head up his own ass when he thought he was healed from his last relationship. While I had doubts, I was inclined to believe it was genuinely not about me or us, but about him.
Fast forward to the weekend, not five days after that conversation. The other man I’d met on POF was being annoyingly silent after we’d jointly agreed to cancel a date that week. I was curious whether he was still active on POF because I really didn’t want to chase someone uninterested.
I popped open my favorited list. While I saw he’d been online that day at the same time he said he was busy with other things and would get in touch later, what genuinely shocked me was the other recently active person on that list – Jack. With the same profile saying he was looking for a relationship.
Jack, who had hidden his pictures when I agreed to be exclusive with him, at his request because he only dates one person at a time.
Jack, who had said of course he would have the courtesy of letting me know when he was going back online, adding I would of course be his first phone call the moment he was ready.
Jack, who realized five weeks after he asked for exclusivity that he wasn’t over his last relationship, couldn’t be emotionally available, and who told me he knew he couldn’t date right now until he’d worked through it.
Jack, who is a textbook case of too fucked up to be anywhere near an online dating site saying he wanted a relationship.
What a lying sack of shit.