Winning the Lottery

Not unlike Gretchen Rubin's 'Happiness Project', this is a Singleness Project. Basically, an attempt to live as happy and fulfilled a life as possible, while flying solo.

It feels like Christmas morning and I’ve won the lottery, all at the same time.

In fact, I could barely sleep last night because I felt so happy and excited; to be true, I can’t even remember a recent occasion when I’ve felt this way. Because let’s be honest, even Christmas morning doesn’t feel much like Christmas morning anymore, well not the way it did when I was eight anyway.

It turns out I’m in love. For real.

I’m in love with my cheeseburger.

So here’s the story:

A couple of weeks ago, my burger and I were hanging out, catching a TIFF movie. The subject came up that I had gone out with some single girlfriends the week before and had a bit of a crazy night. Then he asked if I’d met anyone. I told him I sort of did and that I was going on a date with this guy. Anyway, to make a long story short, he had a lot of questions about it and although he said he didn’t care, it kind of came across that he did.  I was confused and a little upset, but didn’t know what else to do about the situation but to go ahead with the date. I knew I had feelings for my burger but he was adamant and clear with me that he wanted nothing more than a casual relationship.

On the date I had a hard time concentrating on enjoying my time with this guy. I couldn’t help but compare him to my burger, feeling that I’d rather just be hanging out with him. We always have fun, it’s easy, he makes me feel good.

The following weekend my burger and I were catching a couple of midday festival films, having a good time together as we usually do, when he brought up the subject of my date over lunch.

“Did you have a good time? Are you going to see him again?” he asked over lunch.

I don’t know, I said. I don’t really feel comfortable talking about this with you.

“Why not? We’re friends.” He replied.

Then I broke down in tears. I was feeling particularly emotional that day and we’d just seen quite an emotional and touching flick about love. I was feeling sad and sorry for myself that he didn’t feel that way about me and never would and wondered if I would ever find that for myself.

“The thing is,” I told him. “I don’t want to date someone else. I want to date you. I want to be with you and I want you to be my boyfriend. I have feelings for you!”

He shook his head feeling frustrated and asked why we always have to have the same conversation over and over again. He told me he didn’t want the same things as me, he didn’t want to date me or be in a relationship with me.

I continued to tear up quietly, hoping the waitress wouldn’t notice and wiping my eyes with a napkin. “The problem is," I said. "I’m in love with you.”

His reaction wasn’t good, which just made me more upset. I think he felt uncomfortable and didn’t know what to say. So then I told him, for once and for all, (although we had tried this a few times before and it never seemed to stick) that I wouldn’t be able to see him anymore. I told him that it hadn’t been my intention to grow such strong feelings for him and I know I had said it was casual from the beginning, but this is how I felt and it’s becoming too difficult for me knowing that the feelings would never be reciprocated.

We were both a little sad. He seemed disappointed that we wouldn’t be able to hang out anymore. But I tried to just buck up and salvage the rest of our fun day together. I told him we should just make the best of the day and have a good time, since it would be our last.

Neither of us felt good about this but we carried on anyway.

It all fell apart though, when he continued to ask questions about the other guy and continued to tell me that he didn’t care if I dated someone else and that I should date someone else and it’s totally cool with him.

Then I lashed out. I was so upset that he didn’t care a bit when I was feeling totally in love with him and devastated. I threw something at him that was very hurtful and my intention was to hurt.

We had a big blow out, (well, not the screaming and yelling kind because I don’t think that’s how either of us roll) right in the middle of the food court at Yonge and Dundas AMC. We were biding our time before our next movie and couldn’t even look at eachother we were both so upset.

It ended with us both saying that we could never see eachother again; we were both disappointed in eachother and realized that there was no other option but bring it all to a sad and sorry end.

We skipped out on the movie. I was too upset to sit through it.

We barely said goodbye and my last words to him were: “Don’t contact me. Ever.”

He said no problem and walked away.

Then I got on the subway and cried under my sunglasses all the way home.

When I got home I called my mom and cried some more.

Then I cried some more and went to bed at 8:00 on a Saturday night.

Well that doesn’t sound like Christmas morning!! You’re probably saying to yourself by this point.

But Here’s Part Two:

After two weeks of feeling angry and upset, knowing we would never speak to or see eachother again, I got a call. It was 3:00 on Sunday afternoon and I was up to my hairy armpits in reports for work and laundry, sitting on my couch in old leggings and a sweater, drinking tea, my two cats piled on top of me for warmth and comfort.

Actually, funny story to insert here.

Just a few days ago I was telling my students about myself and explaining to them that I had two cats. They asked all about my cats and then asked me if I lived with my mom. No, I said. Do you have a husband? No, I answered. So you live by yourself? Yes, yes I do.

“Well aren’t you scared?” one of them asked.

“No, you get used to it,” I said.

“Aren’t you lonely?”

“No,” I replied, maybe a little less convincingly.

Then Kyle, with his sweet little face and Trinidadian accent said, “Ms Young, my sister told me that usually people who don’t have husbands or boyfriends, they have cats.”

I paused and then said, “Yes. Yes it’s true Kyle.”

Anyway, back to the story.

I was sitting with my cats piled on top of me, working away and kind of feeling sorry for myself when my phone started to ring. It was my cheeseburger. And although I had told him: Don’t. Contact me. Ever., I picked up the phone right away.

“I need to talk to you,” he said. “Can I come over? I want to talk to you in person.”

Sure, no problem I told him. Feeling a bit tired and worn out about the whole situation.

I knew exactly what he was going to say.

He felt bad that things had ended the way they did. He didn’t want things to be weird between us. We have mutual friends that we have to think about. He hoped we could be friends and put this behind us.

Check. Check. Check.

I thought about how I would respond.

“Yes, I agree. Yes, no hard feelings. I don’t want things to be weird either. I don’t want to make things uncomfortable for our friends. I know we both care about eachother and didn’t really mean the things we had said.”

Then he would be off and I’d be alone with my cats again.

But this is what he said:

“I’m in love with you. I want to be with you. I want to be your boyfriend. I missed you so much and I want us to be together.”

I think I’m still in shock.

But happy shock. Like Christmas morning when you’re eight shock.

Then after another good round of what we do best, we cuddled. He even held my hands and kissed me on my ears.

Then he said, “What happens to the Singleness Project now?”

“I don’t know,” I said.

“It becomes the Coupleness Project?”

We high-fived and had a good laugh.