Reader Story: Fifty Shades of Big Shot: He Ended It With a Text Message
Shared by buffalogrl25.
If you are ever looking to fulfill a raging desire to feel completely inadequate, date a Big Shot. If you had the chance to check out Trust Fall, you know what I’m referring to. Not only did this guy give me the boot, but he did it with a text message. Yea, not cool. There’s a lot of other reasons why this one didn’t go well, but that was the cherry on top. Time to get down to the gory details then. He’s probably going to sound like a real jackass, but stick with me to the end. He redeemed himself.
I met Big Shot through Gem who was casually dating his friend. They suggested that we all go to dinner one evening and I begrudgingly agreed. Gem insisted that it was just a friendly dinner, but it felt close enough to a date. I hate being set up. It doesn’t feel natural and there’s way too much pressure.
I didn’t think the evening went well at all. First, I got lost on my way to Gem’s where the guys were picking us up. She’d moved recently, and I’m directionally-impaired even with my GPS. Great. Now I’m the idiot who’s late and I don’t even want to be doing this anyway.
The whole night was awkward, and Big Shot seemed uninterested from the minute they picked us up. When they arrived, Big Shot’s friend got out of the car to help Gem over the icy sidewalk in her heels. Big Shot just sat in the car. Guess I’m on my own then. When I got in, he made some comment about me being late. We tried to make small-talk about our jobs, but that was a short and dull conversation. Dinner conversation went the same way: awkward, clipped, forced. Leaving dinner, Big Shot’s friend held the door for us and then made it a point to open Gem’s car door. Big Shot blew right passed me and got in. I know it wasn’t supposed to be a date, but there’s this thing called being a gentleman…?
“Wow is this not going well…” I’d whispered to Gem in the back seat.
From dinner we went to Helium Comedy Club and saw Michael Ian Black – who was hilarious. I was finally able to relax a little. I didn’t think it was enough to save the night, but at least I didn’t feel like crawling under the table any more. After the show, we all went to the friend’s house for some wine. There, Big Shot and I finally managed some real conversation.
I learned a lot about him and what made him a Big Shot. He was successful, but was now in transition and a little lost. How he became successful was what impressed me. His was the kind of success he worked hard and fought for from the ground up against crazy odds– not something that was handed to him. I had a lot of respect for that. He was humble about it too, and humility is sexy.
I was pretty shocked when he asked for my number, but I went with it. Big Shot wasn’t overtly charming, but thanks to Casanova, that’s a good thing in my book. I was even more surprised when I heard from him the next day. We ended up going on a date the following week which actually went well. (If you’ve never been to Frank’s Sunny Italy on Hertel – check it out.) Our conversation went much smoother. I learned more about him. He was very smart, and really interesting. He had great stories and experiences to talk about, and had unique perspectives on different things. I enjoyed just listening to him.
He’d also been through some tough stuff. Real stuff. With his family and with other people in his life. With work. With his health. Things that your average person never has to deal with, but stuff that helped shape who he is now. It gave him a thick skin. Again, I respected that, and I have to respect someone before I’m attracted to them. So that’s when I first started to crush on Mr. Big Shot.
But it’s also after this first official date when it started… inadequacy. I ran out of great stories a lot faster than he did. He had nine, almost ten years on me, so it’s expected that he’d have more life experience. But I still felt like nothing I could talk about would be as interesting as his stories. He was intimidating though he didn’t mean to be, so I tended to clam up. Probably should just keep your mouth shut and let him do the talking.
We got to the point that we talked regularly and went on several more dates. I didn’t put too much stock into it and was still intimidated. He was an over-thinker like me and could be moody. He was hard to read. Fifty Shades of Big Shot. If you read it, you get it. If you didn’t, you should. Because damn.
He always paid for dinner and refused to let me contribute. Which was very sweet, but also left me feeling completely useless and a little skeevy. Do I actually contribute anything to this… whatever it is? He always took me to really nice places, but I didn’t like feeling indebted to him even though he was the one who insisted on those places. When we were making plans and he’d ask me where I’d like to go, I never knew what to say. I knew of nice places that he’d like, but it didn’t feel right suggesting them knowing full well that they were out of my comfort-zone. But I also knew he wouldn’t want to go to the not-so-fancy places that I was comfortable suggesting. Probably should just keep your mouth shut and let him do the planning.
My favorite times were when we just hung out on his couch. We made homemade nachos one night, and that was the first time I could finally get out of my head. I’m sure the wine helped, but it was on these more relaxed occasions that I could start opening up. If you read Being an Introvert, then you know it takes me some time do that even when not intimidated.
I liked getting to know him better. He was much more fun than his first impression gave. He was funny. He was clever. No, he never turned out to be the classic door-opening gentleman, but he was a different kind. He was genuine and he listened. He cared so much about the people in his life, even if it was at the expense of being stressed out all of the time. He worried constantly. People expected a lot from him – unfairly so. And because he was a rough sort of sweet, he worked really hard to meet their expectations. I remember finally saying it at one point… You put a lot of pressure on yourself to take care of everyone around you.
Which made me feel even worse. I felt like another stressor or obligation that he had to buy dinner for and stress about staying in touch with. I wanted to be something fun he could look forward to or at least a relief to talk to. And it was also obvious that the man was hurting for some T.L.C. He always seemed like he was carrying too much around. He did everything for everyone, but no one really did anything for him. I remember having this odd desire to offer to rub his back and shoulders whenever I saw him. Probably should just keep your mouth shut and not make an ass of yourself.
He was frustrated too. He was sick of dating and just wanted to be married and have babies. He’d mentioned about how in a relationship you “want to feel adored”. That struck a chord with me because the way he said it made me think that no one had ever made him feel that way. I don’t just mean in his dating relationships, but with his family and friends too. It wasn’t in a sad, pathetic way – more like he was just looking forward to it someday. Based on the stories he’d shared, I could tell he’d always ended up the giver in the relationship and never the getter.
I completely got that. I’ve always ended up on that side of things too. And it made total sense why he was frustrated. He was the type of guy who was used to making what he wanted to happen, happen. This was out of his control. I understood his feelings, but couldn’t say it. That’s a tough conversation to navigate… How do you say, “I get your frustration and want the same things, but you need to be patient, Superman” – without it sounding like you’re volunteering when you so don’t mean it that way? Probably should just keep your mouth shut and not make an ass of yourself.
And then there were his exes. They were all bombshells like Gem, but hot messes. At least I was sane. Well, hopefully I have that going for me. Big Shot was downright studly, and knowing he dated bombshells quadrupled the intimidation factor. Particularly when he’d bring up his 97-pound ex-wife. They didn’t have a pretty ending to their short and unhappy marriage, but obviously he’d planned to spend his life with her, so no matter what happened; it must have been completely devastating. That’s a tough act to follow.
He’d asked if I wanted to see a picture from his wedding. I have no idea what in the world possessed me to say yes, but he showed me. I had expected it to be one of those compulsory, post-ceremony, pictures of the wedding party. Nope. It was a picture of the moment – as in the standing at the end of the aisle, looking at each other, taking vows, moment. And all 97-pounds of her looked stunning. Yep, this was a completely terrible idea.
We hung out some more, and one late night at his house, it happened. We had too much wine, and well, things happened. Talk about going from zero to sixty way, way too fast. It had been… uh, a long time… and I got lost in the moment. Before I knew it, it just happened.
You know something is a bad decision when you regret it mid-way through it happening. So of course I couldn’t relax. For women, or me at least, sex is much more mental than it is physical. If I can’t keep my head in the game, if I’m not comfortable, then nothing else is going to be in the game either. The first time with someone new is always a little awkward, but when you aren’t even comfortable talking to that someone yet, sleeping with them is probably not a good plan. Anyway, that night wasn’t too bad – just awkward.
The next time it happened was terrible. My fault -not his. This time I went over to his house after martinis with Gem. I’d shown up feeling like I looked pretty good. I thought I’d get a “you look nice” or something… but I got nothing. Sort of took the wind out of my sails. I wasn’t comfortable, but I felt obligated for it to happen again. Why else would he have you come over this late? And the first time is always awkward, I’m sure this time will be better…
Nope. So much worse. I could not get my act together at all. My brain was anywhere but where it needed to be. It was stressing about the last time. It was telling me to relax, but making it worse. It flashed a picture of a 97-pound ghost in a pretty white dress. Talk about killing your confidence and destroying your already half-hearted mood. Bottom line – let’s just say chemistry and passion were not there that night.
The next morning everything seemed okay and he’d asked about getting dinner later. Throughout the day I was thinking about how to bring it up at dinner. I wanted to tell him that things moved way too fast, that I wasn’t comfortable, and wanted to step back and reset. That I wanted to go back to snuggling and getting to know each other if we could.
But he bailed out on dinner. And I barely heard from him the next day. Not at all the day after. The sinking feeling in my gut foreshadowed what I already knew. I text him… Is everything okay?
And that’s when I got the boot. Via text message. While at work. So uncool. Big Shot could not have been more generic: “…. met someone else and it just feels right and I just need to go with it because when it feels right you have to go with it and you know how it is and so take care, good luck…”
My over-thinking brain raced. Wait, what? I slept with you two days ago, and you wanted to hang out that night until you blew me off. When exactly did this Something-Better come along and sweep you off your feet? In the last 48 hours? Doubt it. So, you clearly had this girl in your back pocket. What, did you take her out Friday, but then still had me come over to finish the job? Wow do I feel disgusting and used. And “take care, good luck”? Are you kidding me? Talk about throwing your knuckles into it.
I text him and asked him if I could call him later. No response. I text him a little later asking again. No response. You are no better than Casanova. But after having spent the last two months keeping my mouth shut, I thought, fuck it, I’ll never see him again anyway. Might as well tell him what I really feel for once.
So I sent him a long text message and every word was sincere. I thanked him for being sweet and taking me out on such nice dates. No one had ever wined-and-dined me before. It felt good and I appreciated that. I told him that I thought he was a great guy. That I was disappointed as I was looking forward to getting to know him, but I understood and respected his feelings. I told him that he was intimidating and I regretted clamming up. I even told him that I was sorry for sleeping with him because it was awkward and I wasn’t ready. Then I told him that I wished he would have told me about this other person upfront. That I felt completely used since he still had me come over that night. I told him that texting me was pathetic. I told him that I knew we weren’t “official” or anything, but I obviously liked him and some compassion for that would have meant a lot. I told him that his text was harsh and he was clearly slamming the door pretty hard. That I don’t believe in doing that to someone you barely got to know. I told him that regardless of all that, I really did wish him the best and hoped that he’d find what is was that he was looking for – someone that made him feel adored.
All I had wanted was the opportunity to say my piece. I didn’t want to be dramatic, and I had no intention of trying to change his mind. Not only was his mind clearly made up, but I have more respect for myself than that. I also thought differently of him for doing what he did, and wasn’t exactly his number one fan. And if I’m not right for someone, I’m not right for someone. If he wasn’t feeling it, then he was making the right decision. I was disappointed since I was crushing on him, but I wasn’t mad at him for it.
I was upset that he couldn’t be bothered to pick up the phone to tell me. Not only did he text me, but he only did so at my prompt. I might not have been anything special to him, but I was decent to him. I was kind to him. I liked him. And I didn’t do anything to deserve being treated like cheap shit that wasn’t even worth the time to make a phone call. I was entitled to a little respect and courtesy. When did texting someone something like that become okay?
We slept together and that always changes the rules of the game whether people like it or not. It may have been too soon, but I don’t sleep with just anyone. Yes, that was my mistake, and I’m the one who will live with the embarrassment and regret of it, but he could have showed some class and been a gentleman about it. Instead, he was a coward and an insensitive jackass who hid behind a text message. He really disappointed me. I had thought more of him. I’d expected more from him. And I had hoped that he’d thought more of me. I was hurt that somebody could be so cold.
It was Maya Angelou who said that people aren’t likely to remember what you said, but they will remember how you made them feel. Well, this guy made me feel cheap, used, disposable, and disrespected. Nobody was asking him to change his mind. I am a realist. We weren’t anything official so he obviously didn’t have any obligation to me. You don’t get to be twenty-something and single without having faced some rejection. I wasn’t asking him to like me. I was asking him to show me some respect. Respect that I was entitled to as a person, and that he owed me because, even if it was bad, the man was inside of me 72 hours earlier. Contrary to what my actions here may lead you to believe, I don’t just do that. And while I may not be a virgin, let’s just say it is still a pretty exclusive club. And I would like to not have to completely regret and hate that he is now in it.
Well, surprisingly enough, he did do the right thing after I sent my long message – he called me immediately. He said that he had texted me because he’d “thought a phone call would be awkward”. I wanted to say, No shit, so are a lot of things. Sometimes in life the right thing to do is the hard thing to do, but it wasn’t worth it. He swore that he didn’t get my texts asking if I could call him. Again, I thought, Uh huh, your phone is your right arm. Don’t insult me, but again, I didn’t say it. It didn’t matter at this point.
Then he rambled, and I was surprised to hear Big Shot so inarticulate. He assured me that no one had “been in his back pocket” as I’d accused him of, and that he hadn’t slept with anyone else since things happened with us. He seemed genuine and I believed him. But he was all over the map with everything else. In his text he’d said that he’d met someone new. Then he’d said it was this woman that he’d known for a while who he needed to give it a shot with because they’d always had something, but the timing had never been right. Then he was talking about meeting someone at the gym. Then there wasn’t anybody and he just needed to take a step back from everything and breathe. He wasn’t really making sense, but I let him flow.
Because none of that really mattered. It was nice that he tried to explain, but again, my point hadn’t been that I upset with his decision. You can’t be mad at someone for how they feel just because you wish they feel differently. What you can be mad at is the way they manage those feelings and what they do about them. Texting me when things had progressed to where they had with us was a cut-and-run teenage technique. Not cool. In your thirties, you should know enough to at least call the person so they get the opportunity to say their piece too. Most people are classy and reasonable. They aren’t going to beat you up over it.
It’s also respectful to show them that they are worth a little of your effort and time. That they weren’t just cheap filler until Something-Better came along. That even though your decision is still your decision, their feelings do matter. Most of all, it gives them a chance to hear your voice. Your voice in that type of situation is what gives away your true character.
And Big Shot’s voice is what redeemed him. More than he’ll ever know. Yea, he was all over the place with his irrelevant explanation, but what made me feel immensely better was the fact that he did sound like he cared. He sounded like he felt bad that it had to go this way, but that it was what it was. He sounded confused, but he sounded sincere. He sounded like he’d struggled with doing it, and that felt so much better. That text message had made him sound like an apathetic asshole: Thanks for your vagina, but I found a better one, you can get the fuck out of my life now. But his voice made him sound like a person. One who’d made a decision, and it was what it was. So. Much. Better.
The conversation ended cordially. After we’d hung up, Big Shot sent a text about being in touch. I didn’t reply. Uh huh, I’m definitely never hearing from you again. I was still bummed out, but at least I didn’t feel like I’d been run over without reason anymore. No, I don’t really believe he met someone else. I think he just wasn’t feeling it and things had gotten too complicated too soon. Sex complicates things; bad sex even more so. He wasn’t feeling it, wanted other options, and assumed there was no going back after what happened. He didn’t want to feel backed into a corner with something he wasn’t feeling. He wanted out, felt like he needed a justification, and that’s the best he could come up with.
It even makes sense to me why he did it the way he did. He’s been through bad experiences and has had bad people in his life. Everybody always wants something from him – sadly, stuff like cash or a job – and he feels obligated to do it. He’s stressed out and sick of it, so now when he decides that he’s done with somebody – he’s done. He cuts and runs before they turn into another obligation that he doesn’t want or need. That’s his M.O. and it makes sense that it is.
Don’t get me wrong… It’s not my M.O., it’s not okay, and what he did will never be cool. But I think he just made a bad judgment call. I don’t think he has bad character. I do still regret that he’s, uh, in the club. I would give just about anything to take that back. But I can’t, so now I just have to live with it.
I wish Big Shot the best and really do hope that he finds what he’s looking for. He made the right call if he wasn’t feeling it. But I am a little worried that he took my cordiality as trying to stay on his back burner. Nobody wants to be Back-Burner Girl. Nobody wants to be a back-up plan. Nobody wants to be settled for. Nobody wants to be, “hey call me if that goes badly”. You want to be it. The person that makes it all click and come together. That missing puzzle piece. The one. Even the one that got away. Not the girl you could call – the one you ache to call.
Untitled3If someone I’m seeing doesn’t think I’m potentially going to be any of those things for him, then I’d rather see things end so we aren’t both wasting our time. Because we are all looking for that. So, if I’m not it, tell me – just please don’t text me. I’m a reasonable, classy woman, and I’ll take it like a champ. I’ll be okay. Stella will get her groove back. I’ll dust myself off, spend too much money on new shoes, and go out for martinis with Gem. And I’ll keep looking for my own puzzle piece.
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