A month or so ago I met a guy. A really nice guy. A guy that literally embodied the saying ‘too good to be true.’
Tall, dark and handsome, working in a job that would make your heart melt (it involved puppies), well travelled, kind, ran marathons. Seriously? This guy was like the Lancashire equivalent of the romcom architect. And the best thing about him? He seemed to like me.
There are a few things when it comes to guys that I look for, hope for. Good manners, punctuality and consideration. Mr Perfect ticked all those boxes.
He would remember when I had a big day at work and he would text me to say good luck, he was nice to the waitress, he turned up on time, and he would text before a date to confirm all the details – an act, which for various reasons, was my favourite thing of all.
But when some one who seems that perfect, seems to like you, inevitably the question is going to cross your mind: What the hell does he see in me?
He was stupidly good looking, and crazy fit – actually fit not just the phwoar look at him fit. Something that made me very aware of my increasingly soft around the edges figure. Dating Mr Perfect made me want to run more, made me want to eat better, made me want to put more make up on, change my hair, by a new dress. Not things which are necessarily bad in themselves, they’re just not good if you are doing them for some one else.
Mr Perfect also made me want to be a better person, work harder, be generally kinder, less dark with my sense of humour, and be happy all the time. I was putting new pressures on myself to be better at things that, actually, I am already pretty flipping good at. And again it wasn’t that I was doing it for me, I was doing it for some one else.
I should point out Mr Perfect never once asked any of these things of me. These were pressures I put on myself. Mr Perfect would never have said anything, or probably even thought any of those things about me, because actually…
Mr Perfect liked that I was genuine and passionate and Mr Perfect said I had amazing eyes.
Mr Perfect seemed to like me for who I was.
Until of course he didn’t.
Mr Perfect was part of my life for a whole 4 weeks. We text each other all day, every day, about anything and everything, and for the first time in nearly three years I thought I might actually like some one. And then Mr Perfect disappeared.
In that last week I could sense something wasn’t right, but I wasn’t sure why. I knew he had a big competition coming up (like I said, crazy fit) so I told myself I was being needy and ignored it. But after yet another ‘Sorry I haven’t text much’ text I just came out and said it.
I said ‘That’s ok, I understand you’re super busy and must have a lot on your mind this week, but if it is something else, I’d rather you just said’
His reply was ‘Haha, no don’t be silly, nothing like that, I’ll speak to you tomorrow.’
I never heard from Mr Perfect ever again.
Not even a week later when I text to say that I hoped his competition had gone well, and that while I got that he didn’t want to see me again, I hoped it wasn’t something I’d said or done.
Basically I was asking, ‘Hey dude, erm, what the hell?’
It seemed that Mr Perfect really was too good to be true after all. Mr Perfect with all his good manners and kind considerate ways, couldn’t take two minutes out of his day to put a girl out of her misery and say ‘Sorry I’m just not ready for a relationship.’ Which of course universally means ‘I’ve just gone off you’ but we can kid ourselves and at least we get some kind of closure.
Maybe this sounds a bit bitter and a bit ranty, but it isn’t not really, the point isn’t to have a go at this guy who will no longer be called Mr Perfect it is to point out, that if dating Mr Perfect makes you feel anything less than perfect yourself, then the problem is the guy not you.
I know that this guy really probably didn’t want to hurt me, and he would probably be mortified to think that he knocked any ones confidence. And while I still think it is really pretty cruel and cowardly to just disappear on some one like that I don’t hold it against him. At the end of the day we just weren’t right for each other, and that isn’t his fault, and it certainly isn’t my fault either.
This guy wasn’t Mr Perfect after all, this guy was just a guy, because my real Mr Perfect, will eat hummus, and like real food, and most importantly of all, he will make me feel perfect too.
Just because some one seems perfect it doesn’t men they are perfect for you.
And Mr Too Good To Be True, if you do read this, I hope you’re happy, that you’re competition went well and that you’ll find a girl that makes you want to come out of hiding and stick around, because you really were very lovely.
Live life & hold out x