My Excuse for when he doesn't call

[Tara Merry is what I call my blogging partner in crime. She's put an APB out on Happily Ever After. She ain't the first or the last! Without further ado her guest post...]

I move around a lot. I want to experience absolutely everything I can before I find myself washing cloth diapers three times a day and discussing my child's bowel movements in inappropriate detail - That's what mothers do right? Right? I'm a little confused, everything I know about parenthood I learnt from romantic comedies.

About three months before I moved to the USA I met an amazing guy. He was cute, funny and more importantly a DJ. Which was a big step for me, considering most of the guys I knew worked entry level administration jobs and still lived with their parents.The best part, however, was that he was a massive fan of Sex and the City! 
As a single romance blogger I love Sex and City. Its kind of a prerequisite. A little known fact is that, as a romance blogger if you don't like Sex and the City you will be shunned by the whole dating world, finding yourself standing on street corners and trading food for relationship advice.

At first I was perplexed, every other straight guy I have spoken to has used the words 'disgusting' or 'horrible' and rolled his eyes when talking about my favorite show. I was a little concerned that I was on a date with a gay guy. AGAIN. I was trying to make a stand, no more unrequited crushes on completely unobtainable men, e.g. Neil Patrick Harris *sigh*. So I was pretty excited when I met up with my DJ and he showed his interest by lifting his arms for a hug and pressing his crotch deep into my hips for a lingering and inappropriate embrace.

We had an amazing date! Absolutely amazing. We were a perfect match; together we were funnier, smarter and just better. I deserved a medal. I didn't think it was possible, but I had achieved the unachievable... It was the perfect first date.

Then he didn't call.

It's not like I'm this crazy confident dater. I can over analyze with the best of them. I went through our date with a fine tooth comb. Constantly wondering what had happened, did I say something inappropriate? Did he confuse my feelings for Neil Patrick Harris as homophobia rather than raw, unreleased lust? No, I finally concluded. He must be dead.

Then, after spending about a month of chastising my dating technique, I received a text message:
'Hey, gawjus girl, how are you? Eugh... No wonder things didn't work out if even auto-correct can't understand his compliments.

We chatted for a while until he finally admitted that, yes, we did have an amazing date. It turned out that that was his problem. He told me he really liked me, but when I let slip that I was moving away he made the decision to protect his heart and cut me from his life - In case you were wondering, 'protect his heart' were his words not mine. So I was single. Again. At least now I have a go-to excuse prepared for the next time my 'perfect date' doesn't call.

Thanks

Tara 

About Tara Merry:  I am a self described blogger and bad decision maker. Born in New Zealand, a country commonly referred to as 'next to Australia' I am a keen traveler. My mission is to kiss as many frogs as possible before midnight strikes and I turn back into a pumpkin - I hope that I can make you smile along the way.  

Connect with her via her Blog, Twitter or email at: taramerryblog@gmail.com