I Got Dumped But He Still Stayed for Chili

There are stories we tell ourselves to feel better about a situation, the ones we rewrite a certain way in our brains in order to move on- the versions in which we were right. This story comes with a Girl Scout badge for self worth but is also hilarious and I invite you to laugh at my misery. 

This post is the start of me embarking on the brave journey of openly sharing my dating horror with you- dating in one of the world’s most chronically single cities, nonetheless. I wish I could be one of those fearless and free, New-York-is-my-boyfriend kind of women but I’ve tried and for better or worse, you need people. 

To avoid getting sued, we’ll get in the habit of changing names now. Today, I’ll tell you about “Shane”. 

Shane and I met in the park when I was walking Leo to kill time (before another date, actually). I say Leo’s only flaw is no gaydar, but almost without fail, he’ll identify an attractive stranger, lock in on them and charge into their personal bubble, making it look like an accident.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry about my dog! He just likes to make friends.”
“Oh no, it’s no problem at all. He’s amazing, I want to be his friend... You know, if you ever need anyone to walk Leo, I’d love to.”
“Really? You would? I mean, I usually work all day, you seem nice enough. I’d let you walk him.”
”Well, okay, cool? How do we - how do we do this? Should I get your number or something?” - smooth operator, Shane. Very smooth, indeed.

I sent a text to Shane after my lackluster night. “Hey, nice to meet you earlier. Let me know if you want to hang out with Leo tomorrow.”
“Sure, I could come grab him around 5 ish”, he said.
“Well, I’ll be off work by then but we can all go for a walk, if that works for you.”

Shane ended up borrowing a friend’s dog so we could all go to the dog bar. Hard to say if the dog was his easy-out or if he was being overly accommodating. He showed up in basketball shorts and overshot the hello-hug, nearly tripping over his borrowed dog. After two rounds of loaded palomas, we dug deep past small talk and trauma-bonded over divorce and heartbreak and family relationships. He returned his fake pet and came over for takeout and therapy.

Shane was the first guy I invited over without any time to hide the things I usually put away until a second or third date, when I feel like it’s safe to show my weirds. So we talked through the love notes I write myself on my mirror, the incense I burn when I come home, the tarot cards I keep on my window sill in a stack of self-help books - I was like a kid taking him by the hand to see my room with the excitement of a five year old who just made a new friend. $75 dollars worth of sushi and a ladylike-amount of [cuddling] and [eggplant emoji] later, Shane left around midnight. 

My happily-committed friends get to live vicariously through these fairytale-turned-war stories. After two weeks of giggling with girlfriends and drawing hearts on napkin corners, I left for Seattle for ten days to visit my family. Leaving a new relationship for ten days is like putting something on hold at Bloomingdales- they’ll only hold it for so long and it might gone by the time you come back for it. I know this risk by now, being someone who notoriously falls in love two weeks at a time. 

So I did what any devoted, aspiring girlfriend does- text daily photos of sunsets, my dog, my breakfast- totally normal, not-at-all-needy behavior. There’s nothing unheard of in the middle-chunk of this story until the end so I’ll fast forward. I got back to New York and he wasn’t exactly sprinting to my apartment the second I got home-  instead, he entertained me with every excuse under the sun short of a death in the family. 

[Sidebar story: I went to church camp in 7th grade, not because I was raised as a good Christian but because all my friends were going. Lo and behold, I was the thirteen year old hussy who packed a two piece swimsuit to church camp when the information packet explicitly said NO TWO PIECE SWIMSUITS. They made me wear a giant t-shirt over my bikini, goodness forbid I’d tempt the boys with my belly button. Marked with a scarlet-A for the week, I heard a mom tell her modest angel, “Girls like that are a fantasy and no man of God wants that.” That experience sits vividly in my brain. I can’t definitively say whether it’s the root of my wiliness when it comes to men, but one can hope. So starting at the fine age of thirteen, I became a fantasy who, now, goes full blown Betty Draper to keep a man.]

Back to the story- The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach so I bribed Shane with chili and fresh baked beer bread (if you haven't had beer bread, 10/10 recommend). He came over with the bad news face. I was hoping he'd make something up like he’s moving overseas or maybe a double life of some sort- instead, I got honesty.

“Whatever this is, it just doesn’t feel right. And I have a lot on my mind right now. I just can’t give you what you want.” I couldn’t fault him for being honest, it’s the kindest thing he could have done for me. But this is the part where it gets good.

Shane gave me a long lingering hug and said, “But you already cooked all this food. If you want, I’ll still stay for chili.” Like he was doing me a favor. You know, since I already went through the trouble of cooking, the least he could do is enjoy some sad chili after breaking things off. Here’s the crazy part, I LET HIM. If only the hand of Lizzo and self-respecting women everywhere came down to smack me upside my pretty little head, drag me by the curls I touched up just in time to get dumped. 

We sat at my table eating chili, making the most awkward small talk I’ve ever suffered through. It was like being stuck in an elevator together, only that elevator was my apartment and I didn’t have it in me to kick him out. He even had the AUDACITY to ask for seconds.

“Well, thanks for the chili and thanks for being so understanding. You’re so great. Take care, babe.” He had to throw in the “babe” at the end for good measure. That felt like the Bachelor who dismissed the girl with a “you do you, boo.”

So why am I sharing this cringey anecdote with the whole internet- because as there is with most dating horror stories, there’s a takeaway to be grateful for. Rejection is never not a gut punch because we all want to be wanted and valued. I’m giving up on the fantasy, more specifically, BEING the fantasy. There needs to be a window longer than two or three weeks before I start whipping up pies and casseroles with that doe-eyed, borderline-animatronic look on my face. 

The greater lesson- Your people will meet you where you are and when they can’t, you can’t draw them a map to get there for you. I appreciated his honesty, I probably shouldn’t have let him stay for chili. The people and things meant for you show up for a little or long while, and for better or worse, the universe has a sense of humor.

My favorite healthy chili recipe from Ambitious Kitchen.