Cupid - 7, SoulReaper - 0

Yesterday night, I confirmed what I've feared for a little while now: the young lady I was "kind of dating" is simply no longer interested. She seemed a little distant the last time I saw her, and although I initially chalked that up to her having recently moved several hours away, when she blew me off the next day I knew I recognized that fading sense of concern. Although I was prepared and willing to do the long-distance thing, we'd actually never discussed it. After I began to suspect she was avoiding talking to me and read a rather ominous post on her blog, I could only hope it was residual paranoia from the last time I sensed I'd be booted. But is it ever?

Since the year turned, I have courted two Katies - both of them cute, little blonde Libras with tattoos in their nether regions that I will never see. Despite their respective levels of unrepentant self-centeredness (and corresponding disregard for my feelings), I recognize that they're both young and at heart well-intentioned people, so I can't really hate either of them. But in addition to imbuing me with a new phobia of falling for any female who fits the above description, they've managed to send me contrary messages about how to conduct myself during a nascent romance.

Before the former, I had not been in anything resembling a real relationship in exactly nine years, and during that legendary slump I'd always felt that honesty and open discussion would be important if I were ever to start up again. As a result, I wanted to talk about "things" way too often and she took me for a needy, unstable psycho. Furthermore, she managed to convince me of the same until I realized she was projecting past personal experiences into someone she didn't know very well, all the while telling me that's what I was doing. Although my meticulous efforts to explain things from all angles might have told her otherwise, she heard what her brain let her hear. My insight said that I had been too honest - I felt I'd done everything I could to be open with and considerate of her, but took it very personally when she fed me cagey, occasionally petulant indifference in response. When the dust cleared and I'd stopped wanting to crawl in a hole and die, I felt duped and exploited, but I had myself to blame as much as the young lady in question.

Now, when the latter asked me out, I was still smarting but determined not to turn cynical again. Nonetheless, I felt it best not to immediately weigh things down with confessions and admissions, and she was more than happy to fill the conversation gaps with myriad details of shopping trips and her impending job. As a result, we had fun, but it was sort of superficial; I quietly hoped that it would progress, but by the end it was not feeling very fulfilling. In retrospect, perhaps she only ever wanted a fling, something I would never have agreed to had I been aware of it. But she never said so, and so as to not rock the proverbial boat, I never asked. Ultimately, for never speaking up, I think I asked for the brief, businesslike, emotion-free way she informed me she was done with me yesterday.

My task is now to synthesize these conflicting lessons while retaining as much respect as possible for all involved parties, or at the very least, to get very drunk. So this one goes out to Ginger: at least I saw it coming this time, and at least she didn't use the f-word.