Location: My Driveway, Buffalo, NY
Time: 22:00, Late July 2003
HotBallerina left a voicemail on my phone saying she wanted to see me when I got out of work. Not thinking that this was anything bad, I just figured she was going to give me that blowjob she sort-of promised me earlier. I figured I could change into more comfortable clothes, splash some water on my face and then make my way over to HotBallerina’s house. However, as I pulled into my driveway, my phone started ringing.
Beppo (answering): “Pronto?”
HotBallerina: “Hey Beppo, where are you?”
Beppo: “Sitting in my driveway. I went home to change out of my work clothes.”
HotBallerina: “How come you didn’t come right over after you got out of work?”
HotBallerina lived near the mall I worked at.
Beppo: “Uh, your message didn’t say anything about coming over immediately.”
HotBallerina (slightly exasperated): “Well, please hurry up.”
Beppo: “Yeah, I’ll be right over. Be patient.”
After ending the call, alarm bells were ringing in my ears. I knew something was up and it wasn’t going to be something good, like my dick moving in and out of the mouth of a topless buxom hot chick. I sighed, went inside to tell my parents I was going to HotBallerina’s and then drove off into the night.
The end of June signified the end of my summer class and HotBallerina starting her second job at the playground. After a few days she was telling me about her new job and her faceless (to me at least) male “coworker.” She was absolutely gushing about this guy.
I was not enthused.
For example, one night at Marco’s:
HotBallerina: “And my coworker said ‘By the end of summer all the boys with be in love with you and the girls will be like little sisters!’ I had to stop myself from saying ‘awww’!”
Other Girls: “Awww! That’s so cute!”
Yeah, she referred to this guy as “my coworker” in conversation. Not a name like Jim, Mark, Bob or John, but “my coworker.” I didn’t feel okay with this. But what did I have to worry about, I mean, we were dating and it’s not like she’d be window-shopping for the next boyfriend, right? Nah, never!
And if you’re a guy who hasn’t had experience in this type of unseen challenge, like I was, you try to do stuff so that you don’t lose your girl. Spending more time with her, PDA (more than usual), nice gestures, having a stupid grin on your face most of the time, staying in proximity of your girl when out, etc.
Paradoxically, the stuff you end up doing to try to keep her will drive her away.
Long story short I beta-ed up pretty hard.
Location: HotBallerina’s House, Hamburg, NY
Time: 22:30, Late July 2003
On the drive over, I kept telling myself not to get worried or excited. The knot in the pit of my stomach, however, told me that this night wasn’t going to end happily. Pulling into HotBallerina’s driveway, I parked and turned off my car’s engine. Taking two deep breaths, I got out to go ring the doorbell. HotBallerina answered the door.
HotBallerina: “Hi, come on in.”
I stepped inside and took off my shoes. The house was quiet.
Beppo: “It’s pretty quiet, are you the only one here?”
HotBallerina: “No, my parents are in their room, so we can’t talk too loud.”
Beppo: “Okay. What did you want to see me about?”
She then uttered the words that men the world over loathe to hear.
HotBallerina: “We need to talk. Lets go sit down.”
I followed her dejected into the living room and sat down on the couch. HotBallerina sat down as far as she possibly could from me without being on the floor. I definitely noticed this action and erased any good expectations for this night from my mind.
She was slightly wringing her hands with her eyes held downcast. It seemed she was trying to find the right words to say.
HotBallerina: “You know I’m going away for school, right?”
Beppo: “Yeah, you told me about it many times.”
HotBallerina: “Well, why haven’t we talked about what’s going to happen with us when I leave?”
With my prior experience in the same exact situation with FirstGF, where we talked about doing a long-distance thing right from the get go (she went away to Cortland for college). That failed spectacularly (FirstGF left Saturday, radio silence until the “we need to talk” phone call on Thursday). I figured this time around I wouldn’t be the first to raise the issue and would wait until the fact that HotBallerina was leaving couldn’t be set aside any longer.
Call me a pussy or passive/aggressive if you want, but I didn’t want to be the one who calls to attention to the elephant in the room (or sword of Damocles, dealer’s choice). Would it be wrong to want to focus on the good times instead of looking to the dark clouds gathering on the horizon?
Partly due to my logical/scientific nature, I actually wanted to see what would happen doing the exact opposite with HotBallerina as what I did with FirstGF.
However, I now knew for certain that I would be leaving HotBallerina’s that night as single man.
Beppo: “You are leaving, that’s a fact. Since there was some time before you were gonna go, I just…chose to ignore it.”
HotBallerina: “Ignore it? Why didn’t you bring it up, instead of ignoring it?”
Beppo: “Like I said, there was still time. It didn’t seem there was a right time or place to bring up…this issue.”
HotBallerina shook her head and looked back up at me.
HotBallerina: “Well, then it would probably be good if we stopped seeing each other now. It wouldn’t be fair to either of us if we stayed together after I left.”
Although I expected this outcome, my heart sank when she spoke those words.
Beppo: “Yeah, I agree.”
HotBallerina (smiling): “Good. Friends?”
We got up and walked to the front door. I put on my shoes and got one last hug from HotBallerina. I kissed her forehead.
Beppo: “If I don’t see you before you leave, good luck.”
HotBallerina: “Thank you, the same to you. Good night”
With that I stepped out into the night for the drive home.
A few months later, I came to find out that HotBallerina was dating her playground coworker a week or so after this talk occurred. When I heard the news, I was pissed. Not at her, but at myself, because I knew I fucked up. She was a great girl. Smart, beautiful, laid-back, and fun to be around. Girlfriend material (hell, even wife material). She was mine to lose, and lose her I did.
Looking back at that time, I can recall a thought that occurred to me more than once while we were dating: “Wow, I’m not the best looking, so what does she see in me?”
Sometimes I wish that the Manosphere existed when I was in High School and College, and maybe these fuck ups in the distant past may have turned out differently.