Last night as I was writing in my journal just before bed, my cell phone rang. I knew who it was even before I looked at the display. Yup, it was her.
“Hello, —–, how’s it going?” I said, trying not to swallow at an awkward point or let my voice crack or quiver. Be suave, Ben, be suave.
“Pretty good,” she replied, and proceeded to tell me how her day went. So this is why you haven’t called me yet. Hmm, excuses are not good. Brace yourself.
After a few more seconds of chitchat, she gave the sign that marked what was to follow: an “uh,” drawn out in a downward spiral, clearly signaling awkwardness approaching rapidly. “I think very highly of you.” Yup, this is it. That’s not how a girl says “Yes” to a date, not even in the stories. “And, well, I just don’t see anything coming of it.” That was direct. Yikes. But I did ask her to be blunt, and now there’s no doubt about it.
“That’s okay,” I kept repeating mindlessly, trying to sound confident and cool. I don’t think it worked. “Thanks for being upfront with me.”
“You’re a very good person,” she continued, and the conversation ended not long after that. I quivered for ten seconds and shed a tear or two, and then miraculously it was over. It’s almost like it never even happened. It’s magic. :)
Anyway, I learned something interesting from this: there’s a definite tendency to equate rejection with self-worth (or lack thereof). Why else would she keep assuring me that I wasn’t a bad person? Even though I apparently couldn’t make her happy (and in retrospect, with a clearer mind, I’m agreeing with her) and I wasn’t her type, I certainly didn’t feel like I was any less of a human being for it. But I easily could have. And I think I have in the past. That’s one of the hard parts of being blunt and honest, and she handled it well.
Thus ends a chapter in the life of Ben. Good — I always like starting new chapters. :)
P.S. While I’m more open than I used to be before blogging, I’ve no intention of making everything public, especially in relationships. My rule of thumb is that if I’d feel awkward if the other person read it, then I don’t write it. (And that goes for roommates and family and others, too, not just girls.)

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