It's About TIME To Get Over The Guy Who's Just Not That Into You
It's easier said than done, but still.
weheartit There's always that one guy: The guy you hold a torch for, no matter how sh*tty he's treated you, no matter how often he's ignored you. Your story probably goes like this: you had him once, and you want him again. He couldn't care less. But he's hot (he's always hot), and nice (except for the fact he treats you like sh*t), and you can't stop wanting him.
Girl, you gotta stop. You're making yourself look ridiculous. Just like I did.
Lee was a redhead. A light redhead, mixed with brown, the kind you'd never mistake for a carrot top. He wore it floppy and just a little too long for the corporate America we moved through. And he looked good in a suit. He knew it, so he spent too much money on good ones, and ties, and french cuffs. Basically, Lee was super-hot, super-unattainable, and super-gorgeous. He was a walking recipe for a broken heart.
We worked together. I was the sarcastic girl in the corner who got stuff done; Lee was the hotshot young guy bound to make partner once he passed the bar and got his bonafides. He was cocky. Top of his prep school. Top of his law school class. Doted and adored and told by everyone how good he was. So he was used to getting whatever he wanted and tossing it away when he was done.
I should have seen it. I should have known. But I didn't care. Lee and I got thrown together on a case. We started eating lunch together. Then dinner, because you're in the office til 10 PM.
We won the case.
The day we found out, the office was jubilant. We'd just had a small part of it, of course, but a part nonetheless. Lee edged towards me at the party. "Hey, Alisa," he said, which was strange because he always used my last name. "What are you doing after this?"
"Not much," I said. I had an empty apartment and a German Shepherd to go home to.
He smiled, that even white grin that spoke of orthodontia and money. "I'm coming back with you, then."
I should have asked him what for, or why, or at least marveled at his arrogance. But I didn't because I had a crush on him and I didn't care how I got him — I just wanted him.
Like every guy you've got to let go, Lee made me want him bad. He followed me home in his expensive hybrid, parked in the visitor spot, and after I unlocked the door, politely opened and held it.
"After you," he said. I don't know what I expected to happen. Or how I expected it to go down. Because boys only come over to your apartment at night for one reason.
The dog liked him. I took him out to do his business and had turned around to hang up the leash when I felt something flip up the back of my hair. I turned.
"Lee, what are you..." And that's as far as I got before he had me against the wall. His mouth clung to mine as he expertly undressed me: unbuttoned shirt, pushed-down skirt, pulled down tights. I kicked off my shoes myself and immediately lost three inches on him. It didn't phase him. He just reached back and did some boy-magic to unhook my bra. He was good at this. Very, very good. All my fantasies about his hands were real.
He took a moment and palmed my breasts before pushing down my underwear.
"You on the pill?" he said into my ear. I nodded, dizzy with him. Still fully dressed, though he'd somehow fumbled with his fly and gotten it out, he picked me up. "You're too short, Alissa," he murmured in my ear. Then I was on him, then he was in me, and it was everything I'd thought it would be.
Afterwards, he asked if I'd come. The consummate gentleman. I said yes, and he nodded and said he'd thought so. Then he told me he'd had a lovely time, thanked me, petted the dog, and left. Wham, bam, thank you ma'am.
I should have read this as the bad sign it was. But I was dizzy with him. Even the way he'd left right afterwards... so correct! So polite! So totally hot. Because Lee was, if nothing else, totally hot. Just like every boy you've got to get over.
The next morning, he greeted me the same way he always had: "Hey, Red. Quadruple espresso when you make the Starbucks run."
My jaw wanted to hit the ground, but I nodded at him, kept the hurt from my eyes, and dutifully wrote down his coffee order. I thought I'd get something more. I thought I'd get some acknowledgement that he'd f*cked me against my wall the night before.
But there was nothing. I needed to get over him, and fast.
It went on like this for a week. "Hey, Red." We always joked about that, since we both had red hair and everyone else was always calling us "Red." Other than that, nothing. I finally plucked up the courage to say something. I should have just let it go, let it lie, chalked Lee up to an unpleasant life lesson and found myself a rebound.
"Hey, Red. Quadruple espresso... "
"When you make the Starbucks run. Yeah. I had a good time the other night." He looked at me blankly.
"I said I had a good time the other night. Let me know if you want to do it again."
He nodded vaguely. I'd finally flapped the unflappable Lee.
I kept at him. I looked stupid, the way you look when you keep trying to f*ck someone who doesn't want to f*ck you, but I couldn't help myself.
"My dog misses you," I said one morning, and that was the only thing that got a reaction.
"Gorgeous animal, that dog," he said. "You're lucky to have him." Then, as always, he turned and walked down the hallway to his bigshot desk, where he'd hobnob with the rich and famous partners and angle for a job when he finally passed the bar.
I didn't think it would be difficult. Everyone knew Lee was brilliant. Brilliant, hot, totally f*ckable. Just not by me. I was starting to figure that out. I needed to figure it out quicker. I wasn't going to get him, and I had to let him go.
I found a dark-haired rebound boy in accounting, let him take me to the movies and maul me a little bit in the dark. I thought about Lee the whole time. I went out with the dark-haired guy again, to dinner this time. He was as smart as Lee and whole lot nicer. We kept seeing each other.
Finally, I knew I had to do it. It wasn't fair to the dark-haired guy.
It was time to get over that guy who just wasn't that into me.