All The Boys - Follow Through

It was never about him anyway. GQ, I mean. That whole thing about asking him out? It was never about him, it was always about me. About whether or not I could/would actually do it.

And you know what? I SO did it.

Let me back up a bit.

Previously on Candid Karina’s Dating Mis-Adventures, we talked about crushes. We talked about my cliché’d crush on Coach, the personal trainer at my gym, and then we talked about GQ, the car salesman. The one I was hoping I’d have enough guts to actually ask out for a drink.

To be honest, even though I felt I really didn’t have much to lose by asking him out, I still didn’t really think I’d have the guts to follow through and do it.

And yet, when he called a few days later to follow up on the car sale, I found myself feeling brave. After a brief explanation of why I would not be purchasing my car through his dealership, GQ proceeded to give me a good natured hard time. “After all the work I put in for you, you’re not going to buy a car through me? That’s just wrong.”

After informing him (also good naturedly) that nobody asked him to do any work on my behalf, I also told him that I did feel badly, but that’s just the way it would be.

“You should feel bad, it’s not right”, he said flirting
“I do…I tell you what” said I, taking a deep breath and plunging in “let me make it up to you, let me take you out for a drink”.

YES I DID.

GQ: (after a pause) You want to take me out for a drink?”
Me: Yeah, I can’t buy my car from you, so the least I can do is buy you a drink, don’t you think?”
GQ: Yeah, absolutely, that sounds great. I gave you my cell number, right?
Me: Yes
GQ: Cool, call me sometime.

And then GQ got all professional again, as if his manager was standing over him listening in…all about the car, blah blah blah.

I gave him a break, figuring he was at work and I would call him later in the week. No worries, right?

Less than a half hour later, however, I received a text message from GQ: “I’m free this weekend”.

SWEET! Yes, I’ve still got IT.

I replied “This weekend is a bit insane for me, but I could do Sunday?” (note the question mark)
GQ: You tell me.

So far so good, right? And then my friend Traveller reminds me that Sunday was Superbowl Sunday. Now, to me that means absolutely nothing, I don’t watch football all that often and New England wasn’t in the Superbowl, so I had zero interest in that game. However, I realize most people don’t feel the same way I do, so I figured I should address this, in case he had Superbowl plans already, you know? So a quick text was sent to the effect of “Just realized Sunday is Superbowl, does that still work for you?”

And that, ladies and gents, is where the trail ends.

I received another phone call from GQ the next day, but it was all business. Dude was still trying to convince me to come buy my car at his dealership. The conversation was pleasant enough, but it ended without a sale on his end. When he realized I was definitely going elsewhere, he said “Well, okay, that’s all I was calling about”.

Well, isn’t that nice? Okay then, still no response to my last text from the previous evening, but he then ended the call with “Call me sometime”.

I haven’t.

No particular reason why I have not. I just haven’t felt like it. I, quite obviously, don’t have a problem with a woman making the first move. I do, however, have a problem with doing all the work. I put myself out there. He showed interest. And then he fizzled out.

If he’s waiting for me to do all the work, eh…I’ve lost interest. It’s not that I would mind calling him, or following up. It’s just that he sort of left me hanging, and…I just don’t feel the need to put myself out there yet again without some kind of encouragement from his end.

Does that make sense?

And besides, as I said at the start of this post, it wasn’t really about him anyway. It was about me.

If we had connected and gone out for a drink, that would have been a nice bonus, but it wasn’t about the outcome so much as it was about the actual act of asking him out.

Because I did it. How much do I rock for that?