When the heart’s in love, the ears go deaf
THIS was not a subtle cue.
He had recently come off a long-term relationship, complete with a messy breakup that wasn’t quite over yet, and he simply wasn’t available for serious dating.
As I stared into his baby blues and felt the distinct crackle of chemistry between us, I saw his lips moving, but he might as well have been speaking Hindi, which, by the way, I do not.
What followed -- any bets on how long it lasted? -- was a sad but predictable crash and burn that gave rise to a new personal catchphrase: I’m just not listening to you.
Yes, I’ve bastardized the Greg Behrendt mantra, but I did worse than that when I started seeing Mr. Out of Commission. Call it deaf ear syndrome, classic denial or my own thick-headedness, but when he said, “No dice,” what I heard was, “You’re delightful -- let’s hang out!”
To be sure, I’m not the only sufferer. I’ve seen friends and acquaintances go the same route over and over, ignoring clear signs and, at times, precise language that tells them the object of their desire is out of reach.
A close friend pined for years over a guy who had said, no fewer than 5,000 times, that he didn’t want the same life as she did. Different priorities, opposite sides of the world, mismatched values. Intellectually she understood, being a sharp girl. Synapse malfunction? Nostalgia for their high school love affair? Even she can’t explain her long-term hearing loss.
Apparently there’s nothing wrong with my ability to pick up tone and pitch. My doctor joked that I could hear a whisper a block away, which has always been handy in my life as a reporter.
It failed me when I met the handsome carpenter, recommended by a friend who wasn’t clued in to his status as a raw, still-grieving ex-boyfriend. In my defense, he propelled things along, inviting me out for sushi, calling for advice on his beloved, sickly cat. Mixed signals? It seemed that way.
To his credit, it’s incredibly rare for someone to be as honest as he was from the very beginning. My position, though, was that you never know what might happen, you don’t get to pick when in life someone drops in and you shouldn’t close yourself off to new opportunities.
Is it ego or hopefulness or that hunter-prey instinct that nudges us on at such a time?
I’ve been on both sides, having dated a guy once who had what I called quarterly meltdowns during which he demanded to know where the relationship was going, pressing for a more formal commitment. Aside from being wimpy and really unappealing, his fits showed that he never listened when I said, without equivocation, that I wasn’t interested in being remarried.
Short of developing the bionic gift of Jamie Sommers, I figure I’ll have to use my own ears a little better. I’ve started already. There’s an adorable guy at my gym who has been chatty and flirty for some time. No dates, just talk around boxing class, so we barely know each other.
He’d been MIA for a while, and when he emerged recently, I asked about his life. He said he’d been depressed. I wondered if anything tragic had happened. Get fired? Dog die? No, he said, “I think it’s chemical.”
As he stood in front of me, all puppy-eyed and buff, I was temporarily stunned into silence. Then I took a deep breath and nodded my head empathetically. I hear you, pal. I hear you.
