One of the things I miss about dating is the fighting. Yes, you read that right. The fights!
I was with someone for 2 and a half years, my high school sweetheart. And after about a year, it came to my attention that he was flirting with an old flame of his. I am generally not the jealous type (green is not my colour) but for some reason, it really bothered me. But since pride got in the way, I never brought it up because then I would have to reveal my source, and the whole “you don’t trust me” drama would unravel. No.
Luckily (or unluckily) for me, I came across them walking at the mall. Yes, all flirty and she was batting her imported eye lashes at him and he wouldn’t look away. Oh, that was it. I said hi to them, and kept walking. AND, he did not follow me, although my displeasure was evident.
He came by my house the following day, all geared for a fight. And I was not backing down either. I was wronged and I was ready to throw all my toys out of the cot.
And it went like we knew it would. We fought, on the street. Verbal fighting, that is; I was not made for fight …or flight but that is a story for another day.
Him: It was harmless flirting, I promise.
Me: Harmless flirting?? Interesting oxymoron!
Him: I never complained when you went on that blind date your brother had set up for you
Me: That is not the same thing!
Him: How is it not?? You guys were calling each other a few days after that date! And I am sure there was some flirting there but I overlooked it cause i figured it was harmless
Me: well, I’d already heard you guys were flirting up a storm recently, I just never thought I would see you not blink because you were too busy gawking at her cleavage!
Him: Well, they are bigger than yours, just saying…
Me: AAH! Who told you size mattered?? What’s important is that there is TWO of them!
I stormed off, going back home. Three days later, he sent a friend over to my house with an orchid (my favorite flower)
with the sweetest handwritten letter (that also stated that handwritten shows effort, which was what he had put it) and mind
you, his chicken scratch was hard to read. But it is the thought that always counts, right?