cont from July 07. 2011.

I should have just said “No”. And not the kind of “No” that we women sometimes say which means "I'll say yes eventually.” I should have said a solid “No”- maybe one that was polite: “I'm flattered, but no thanks” or maybe one that was cruel and would end this nonsense once and for all: “No. I'd rather crush glass that's made out of diamonds with my teeth than be your date for this wedding.” I could have even gone for the tragic Darth Vader style "Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo".                                                                                            NO! NO! NO!

But, of course, I didn't say any kind of “No”. I asked: “When's the wedding?” And that, as anyone knows is a “Yes”. So, I got huge grins from William*- followed by details of date, time, place and his general happiness for the groom and the bride plus talk of how special it is to find THAT PERSON one wants to spend eternity with. I smiled politely.

Over the next few weeks, I prayed for some disease to hit on/near the day of the wedding. On my behalf, I prayed for a really bad flu. I prayed for a blinding headache. I prayed for a temporary bout of some good old fashioned third-world disease. On William's behalf, I prayed that he would be hit by temporary amnesia and forget that he had invited me as his date to this wedding. Or maybe, he'd suddenly realize I wasn't worth the effort and invite someone else then not mention the wedding ever to me again or give me some lame excuse which I would readily accept and he would wonder why I was so eager to accept it.

Then, I stopped praying. I knew with my luck, I would not be able to contract any worthy disease in time. And even if I did, then it mightn't be one of those temporary ones, or worse, William might feel obligated (some men love sickly women) to stick by me during my illness and then over time, I'd feel obligated to feel things that I really wasn't feeling for him. And all because I hadn't mastered my "No".

So I tried the old lose-yourself-in-work routine. But then it became for-real and no routine. Things at work got very busy; I was returning home later than usual and so very tired. Despite our not meeting or talking very much during this time, it was still understood that I was his date for this wedding and that nothing short of disease or death (neither of which I looked likely to contract) would save me from this. I had resigned myself to going along as his date and stretching this charade of “getting to know each other” unnecessarily further. Then some girl opened her mouth....

It was at work, during lunch, some girl was bemoaning her bad luck with men and how she always seemed to fall for the wrong type and blah blah blah. I instantly felt it was my sisterly duty to put her on the right path. I'd tell her just what she needed to do...and that it wasn't nice to string people along or play games. I readied myself to share the awful truth with her- she just had to learn to say “No” to the men/things that weren't good for her. Being alone wasn't so bad.

Then my own life flashed before me. I took a long sip from my juice. And I kept my mouth shut. I needed to get rid of William.

*Not real name.