Ignorance Is Not Bliss

I realise it's been a little while since I've updated this blog. Truth is, I fell – probably quite predictably – temporarily off the celibate wagon into the arms of a tall, curly haired chef, who we shall today refer to as Derwood. I managed four months, which I know isn't very long, but in terms of getting me back on track and having some respect for myself again, it seems to have done the trick. When I met Derwood I was definitely swiped in the chops with the fancy stick. He was funny, good-looking, attentive. I've struck gold I thought. I thought...

The fact that he had a girlfriend when we met who he had no qualms on cheating on really should have been the first sign that all was not as peachy as it appeared, but you know how it is when you like someone. Reasoning and logic are there, but fighting naked and alone against the mighty armoured Calvary of lust. They didn't stand a chance.

Everything was going well. But, being me, I could feel myself not trusting or believing his sweet messages and behaviour. It was all a bit too nice, a bit too easy, a bit too good to be true. Broom, I told myself, stop being such a pessimist and give this guy the benefit of the doubt. So I did. But he didn't make it easy.

As time went on, a few things began to occur to me about Derwood. Most significantly, the fact that he was a bit arrogant. Confidence and arrogance are pretty similar, and at first the latter can seem almost attractive, but as he regaled me (more than once) with a story about an ex who'd showed up at work to yell at him (turns out he'd just stopped calling her – that was his way of breaking it off) I started to feel a bit uneasy. Not because of what he did, but of how proud and amused he was by the whole incident. He thought that hurting this poor cow was funny. But that was years ago, I thought. He's not like that any more, I thought. I thought...

Imagine for a second that you've been for a job interview and it went really well. So well, in fact, that they ask you back for a second interview where you meet the big boss and that goes really well, too. And then imagine that you never heard anything from them ever again. Not even a “Sorry, you haven't been successful this time” email. Nothing. You'd think they were bloody rude, right? You'd probably feel justified in contacting them and asking what happened. You would deserve some sort of response. Anything else would just be rude and unprofessional. So why is it acceptable for some people to behave like this when it comes to relationships? After all, you've shared some pretty intimate moments, you're vulnerable, you have a mutual respect for each other if nothing else. Right? Um, wrong.

I won't bore you with all the he saids, she saids, he did, she dids, but basically after about 10 weeks, Derwood clearly decided to jump ship. Well, I assume that's what he decided, but as he just stopped contacting me, I can only guess. That's the trouble, you see, ignorance in this case is definitely NOT bliss. If you're never told the reason for someone's obvious disinterest, you start to make up reasons in your own head – and they're always the worst things ever.

Back at the start of the year, just before I embarked on the blog, I was seeing a guy who did this exact same thing. We'd arranged to meet and then he just never showed up. Never called, never texted, never Facebooked, never tweeted – and it put enough self-loathing into me to make me swear off all relationships. But, as it turned out, the fault actually wasn't with me. A few months ago I saw this guy again, and he said sorry for what he'd done. And do you know what? I think he really was sorry. It wasn't that I was revolting and pointless and vile and abhorrent and all the other things I'd labelled myself, it was just a misunderstanding.

Perhaps Derwood simply wasn't feeling it any more, but as he hasn't told me that, I'm going to assume that he is probably back with the ex he never broke up with in the first place. I wish her luck.

If this had happened six months ago, I'm not going to lie, it would have left me a wreck. But, as it is, it really isn't that much of a big deal. We had some good times, and just because he's decided to show me just how much of a rude coward he is, it doesn't make them any less good. I just want Derwood to know, before he regales his next girlfriend with the tale of how he hurt a girl so much she blogged about him, that it's already forgotten.

This blog isn't about you – it's about ME.