In May, I met a guy in Rome whom I thought was great, but a few weeks into it, he backed off, choosing to breadcrumb me. Foolishly, I found myself chasing him. When I finally came to my senses and stopped, I actually said out loud, “Never again, Chatel.” And I meant it.
- I’m no one’s fool. If there’s anything to be learned from pop culture, it’s that the person who does the chasing is the fool. Sure, it’s romantic, albeit a bit stalkery that Lloyd Dobler stood outside Diane Court’s window with a boom box in Say Anything, but in the real world, that crap is foolish and pathetic. I’m not really into being that person.
- I’m not a fan of running. I mean this both literally and metaphorically. Literally, I only run when I want to get somewhere before last call. Metaphorically, I only run so far before I’m like, eff this. Why am I running after someone who isn’t running after me? Shouldn’t we both be running toward each other?
- I deserve someone who gives a damn. For as long as I can remember, my father has been telling me that I deserve someone who gives a damn. And, because I’m an idiot when it comes to guys, he’s had to say it a lot. But I finally get it (hopefully), and I understand the guy who gives a damn isn’t going to sit on his butt waiting for me to show up at his door with a pizza and six pack of beer.
- I believe in equality. I mean, come on! If you can’t give me 50 percent, why the hell am I giving him 100 percent? Is this not 2017? Have we not figured out that not only are we equal as humans but in how we pursue each other? I would effing hope so.
- I have stuff to do. I really do. Even if it’s stupid, like lying around on a Saturday being lazy and useless, it’s still my stuff and I have to or want to do it. I don’t have time to be chasing guys around town, hoping they’ll give me the time of day.
- I’m a damn catch. As I sat on the phone with my mother earlier today, I said to her, “I’m a damn catch.” We were discussing my current non-relationship with someone I adore but know I’ll never be with for the long-term. I’m not chasing him, nor is he chasing me, having realized the reality of the situation. But if something happened where I felt the urge to chase him, I’d end it. I’m the one worth catching and catches don’t chase.
- I’m pretty sure it’s supposed to be a two-way street. Relationships, whether they’re platonic or romantic, are supposed to be a give and take. When you have only one person doing all the giving and the other person doing all the taking, you end up not having a relationship; you have an unfair imbalance where one person always feels like crap. I don’t want to feel like crap, I deserve to not feel like crap and, ideally, never feel like crap again. If he can’t meet me halfway and I’m constantly doling out the goods, that’s a one-way ticket to always being miserable.
- I know there are more fish in the sea. I’ve realized, having been around the block more than a few times, that there are a ton of men out there and some of them are actually keen to meet a woman halfway. Granted, I haven’t met many of those guys because I’m totally convinced they’ve been hidden away for safekeeping, but I know they exist, so it’s stupid to chase one guy when I know for a fact that there are other guys out there who don’t need to be chased.
- I respect myself too much. It may have taken me a long time to get here, but I respect myself far too much to be the sucker in any scenario, especially a scenario with a guy. It’s not cute or fun to be the sucker, and my pride and self-respect won’t stand for it.
- I’ve chased and learned my lesson. The guy in Rome wasn’t my first lesson in chasing. I chased a guy for four effing years of my life. Yes, we were “together,” but not really. Yes, we had a “relationship,” but not quite. I was in love with him and he couldn’t commit. We traveled together, he spent holidays at my family’s house, we were inseparable, he told me loved me, but he also told me he’d never loved me how I loved him. And, despite this, I stuck around and waited, hoping that he’d wake up one day and see all the things in me that I saw in him. He never did; he never would. He was the love of my life, while for him, I was just a placeholder. I may have chased the Italian for a couple weeks, but that pales in comparison to four years. I’ll never chase again.
