I Change My Mind Daily About Breaking Up

Another date ending in sex and confusion.

I just got home from a date with Thomas.

As usual, it was great. When I’m with him, I have fun and love his attention. But when I’m not with him, I get annoyed with his texts and plan my exit strategy.

What the hell is wrong with me?

I’ve written ad nauseum about my relationship with Thomas. He’s wonderful but he hasn’t divorced his wife yet. He makes a fraction of my income which, for Southern California, is almost poverty-level. Instead of buying a home, he spent his adult money on his Jeep. Yes, that’s a very expensive fun vehicle to use as a primary mode of transportation.

It irritates me that he doesn’t have an Amazon Prime account. Who the fuck doesn’t have Prime or mooch off someone who does? Who waits until they have $35 in their shopping cart and then waits a week to ten days for their shit? What the hell kind of red flag is that bullshit?

I can’t tell my friends I’m dating a guy who doesn’t have Amazon Prime.

To Thomas, there’s no question that I’m his end game. While he’s plotting our future, I’m thinking “I’ve got $400k in equity to contribute to a shared house, tell me what you’re going to pitch in…a set of off-roading tires?”

I’ve told him that I’m not his girlfriend until he gets his shit together. That means he’s allowed to date others. So can I. But he gets irritated when I say those things because he wants me to tell him that he’s not allowed to see other women. Thomas wants me to brand him as “mine”.

That’s not happening when I’m also dating someone else. I’ve explained that if someone asks me out, I’d say yes. I don’t think he believes that I’m actually dating others. He would be devastated.

Sorry bro. You don’t get a commitment out of me when I won’t even take the title of Girlfriend.

These are the thoughts that run through my mind as I drive to meet Thomas for drinks after work.

I doll myself up in a simple dress, no bra. Fuck it, no underwear either. Since we can’t go back to his place after (his not-ex-wife being there and all), I might as well make it easy for him to access my girly bits in the parking lot. I vow to not have car sex after; I’m not in high school and he’s met his quota will all the car sex we had when we began dating.

Get a home and a bed dude.

I pull up and see he’s waiting in the parking garage to escort me to the restaurant. My heart softens. It’s Thomas’ style to meet me at my car when we meet up. He looks good. He smells good. Dammit.

We sit at the outdoor bar. It’s getting chilly and I’m regretting wearing a short dress.

Chatting nonstop is our MO. There’s rarely silence between us. As the night wears on, I get tipsy off one glass of wine and he’s barely buzzed after five drinks. Thomas manages to make every topic turn back on his affection for me.

He tells me about how he spoke to the owner of the company today about his divorce. Then he mentioned how he was dating me and how I’ve improved his life. The owner tells Thomas how much his face lit up when talking about me.

We chat about travels. I tell him that I’ll never go to Mexico because I saw the 90210 episode where Brenda lost her ID when sneaking across with Dylan and fuck that nightmare. The cautionary tale of not crossing a border without your parents’ consent still haunts me 22 years later.

Thomas names a few places of interest then tells me that he’s just excited to go anywhere I want to go. That anywhere with me would be exciting. I explain that I’m boring and apt to tour Buckingham Palace before I travel to a country where I may get sold into slavery. That doesn’t dissuade him.

I babble about my landscaping woes. First-world problem: I no longer have a gardener courtesy of my divorced life budget. Having done landscaping in his twenties, Thomas jumps to offer his help. There is nothing that I could say I need help with that he would not try to help.

We talk about Valentine’s weekend. I agreed to do a “trip to the mountains” (is that code for murder?). After that, Thomas wants to go back to my place and make me dinner. Not just any dinner. During our first week of dating, he asked what my favorite meal was and I mentioned a pasta that’s time-intensive. He asked for the recipe. Since then, he’s kept it on his phone so that he could one day make it for me. I should be over the moon happy with a guy who remembers my favorite dish and months later, wants to cook it for me…right?

As the conversation gets deeper in complexity, Thomas talks about the ways I’m good for him. He tells me how he knows how badly I crave security in my life and how he wants to be the one to provide that for me. Step one: increase your paycheck above a McDonald’s salary.

Sigh. This is a guy who loves and adores me. Thomas wants to be everything I could ever need in a partner for the rest of my life. He revels in how beautiful I’ll be in my old age when I bemoan my fear of aging.

How is it possible that I feel so loved by a guy who wants to be my protector, lover, and life partner yet I plot to dump him every day I don’t see him?

When it’s time to pay, I don’t even attempt to bring out my wallet. I had a single glass of wine (technically two, but the second one was free from the bartender) and a plate of fries while he had a bajillion margaritas and Old Fashioneds. Our bartender was fantastic. Thomas comments that he tipped him 22%.

My irritation skyrockets again. I flash back to when I paid a handyman when Thomas was over. When Venmo’ing the dough, he commented on how the amount was good for a few hours of work. And now he’s telling the bartender how much he tipped him? Perhaps I’m bizarre, but that seems tacky and inappropriate.

I can’t act like a Karen clutching her pearls while saying tsk tsk over his lack of manners. Fast forward to us making out in my car and next thing I know, we’re boning. Did I not tell myself I wouldn’t have car sex tonight? It’s all fun and games until your car becomes 100 degrees and your legs feel like they’re going to break.

Now I’m more undecided than ever. How can I end a relationship with a guy who tells me that months later, he falls more in love each time we hang out? This is the kind of thing you only see in movies. Thomas insists it’s not limerence and it’s the real deal. He looks at me like he’s offering his heart on a delicate glass platter for me to guard.

And so concludes another date that leaves me just as confused as before.