The Curious Story of Oliver and Lila

Hello once again, Dear Reader.

Please excuse my long absence.

I've been making a radical change in my life.

I have recently moved to a new city, a new state. It has required some adjustments, to say the least.

But...that is not why you are here, to read about my current state of affairs.

But instead to hear the juicy details of my dating life.

And so I shall deliver.

This is a story about Oliver and Lila.

Just who is Oliver and Lila? You ask.

Lila is me, Dear Reader. Oliver is the man I had been talking to.

We had been communicating for about three weeks or so before I finally had to break it off.

Let's back up shall we?

I "met" Oliver on a dating site. We exchanged messages like crazy.

At first it was innocent enough. I really wasn't interested in anything more.

He became a friend in my mind.

A silly kind of friend. He wanted us to call each other by our favorite names.

I chose Oliver for him - as in Oliver Twist.

He chose Lila for me - from August Rush.

Okay. Whatever. I'm game.

He is an unhappily married man.

(Stick around, Dear Reader, you may find that married men will be a reoccurring theme.)

I'm a single woman with an active dating life.

We started talking about the intimate details of our lives.

Well...he asked questions, I answered.

We never exchanged pictures so the anonymous factor helped me open up and tell him things I normally wouldn't have.

Maybe I told him too much.

Soon he wanted my phone number.

Being the dummy that I am I consented and gave it to him.

Maybe that was a bad idea.

He called me right away. We had a normal conversation about what was going on with us.

But...I could tell that while I was talking that he was...ahem...how do I put this delicately?

Ummm...having fun with himself?

It was a bit disconcerting.

But did I quit talking to him?

No.

Oliver called a couple of days later and wanted my help. (I'm blushing right now as I write this)

Dear Reader you are smart, I'm sure you can figure it out.

Did I "help" him?

Yes.

Did I quit talking to him?

No.

A week passes. Oliver texts me everyday. Soon, he wants to know more and more about my dating/sex life. I keep telling him. I'm having fun.

One day I don't tell him everything. I tell him that what I do with a certain person is personal and if I tell him it won't feel special.

Oliver flips out. Doesn't get angry but depressed. He threatens to do himself in.

I now realize this fun little semi-anonymous exchange has now reached epic proportions. Obsessive proportions. On his end.

Oliver has become obsessed with me and what I'm doing.

I feel bad. Not scared. And a part of me feels guilty for not telling him everything. In fact, he texts me that very thing: 'I thought we told each other everything.'

We exchange texts for over an hour. I send him jokes and feel like I did my job on making him feel better.

Do I quit talking to him?

No. Not yet.

We talk on the phone a few days after that. Again, it's a conversation that I feel like I should get paid for.

Now here it comes. I've been thinking of his little episode. I don't have time in my life to deal with that. I send him a text saying: 'My privacy and morals have finally caught up to me and I don't think we should talk anymore.'

Again, Oliver gets depressed. 'Wow! What did I do to deserve that! You just made me instantly depressed, Lila.'

How does one respond to that?

Diplomatically, of course. 'You didn't do anything. It's me.'

And that is it.

Or was it.

Four days later Oliver texts me.

Do I answer?

Yes.

Do I quit talking to him?

No.

Stay tuned,
Shelby

Update on Him...you know...The One

I got a phone call on Sunday.

I was in the middle of a date.

I heard that all too familiar ringtone.

That ringtone that I haven't heard for about two weeks. The ringtone I thought I would never hear again.

Hurriedly grabbed my phone from my purse. Looked at my date and said "Excuse me, I have to take this."

Because you know when He calls I always answer. Even if I'm in the process of getting to know someone else.

He's still that important to me.

I walked a few feet away and answered.

His voice on the line. My heart in my throat.

He asked where I was. I replied that I had moved. Didn't He remember? I told Him the last time that I was moving that week.

But all that was forgiven as I heard His voice. Low and scratchy. I knew He hadn't been sleeping. I knew He was upset about something. I could hear it. I could feel it.

As He told me His troubles I felt helpless. Helpless with a touch of panicky-caged-animal feeling because I was so far away and couldn't go straight to His house.

I wanted to help Him. I wanted to do something. Anything.

If He had told me to come back I would have. I would have booked the next flight out of this city that I'm really beginning to like and go back.

That would not have been a smart move, I know this, but at that very moment I would've done anything He asked.

We finished talking. I hung up. I walked back to my date.

My date looked at me concerned and asked if I was alright. I guess I had a look on my face. That certain just-got-done-talking-to-Him look that I know so well. I've seen it before. On my own face.

I told him that Yes, I was fine.

I really wasn't. I felt wrung-out. Again. I felt like crying. Again. 

He hadn't asked me to come back. He didn't say that He missed me. Although, I know that He does. Why else would He call? I'm the one that comforts Him and listens to Him without judgment or without interrupting by telling Him what I think He should do.

I just listen.

I just care too much.

Stay tuned,
Shelby

The One I Can't Forget

I told myself that I wouldn't mention Him.

The one I can't forget.

We all have someone in our past like that.

Someone that just shook us to the core.

But here I am. Sitting alone with a glass of wine, listening to Depeche Mode and feeling maudlin.

Yes, Dear Reader, even I get lonely and sad sometimes.

I have met a few men in this new city.

And they are nice, hospitable, funny men.

Here's the kicker...

I compare each and every one to Him.

It's not fair, I know. Whoever said life was fair? Certainly not I.

Not one of these men make me feel the way He did.

I didn't love Him, but I was damn close to it.

Maybe I did love Him. Maybe I'm just trying to protect myself when I say I didn't - that I just cared very deeply for Him.

Then why do I have this gut-wrenching feeling?

The last time I saw Him I shed a few tears in His bed after He fell asleep.

Tears of sadness. Tears of frustration. At myself. At Him.

I laid there and thought "Why did I come back? Why did I allow myself to be dragged back into his world?"

Because I'm a dummy, that's why.

Because I couldn't let go.

Because I jumped when He called and ran right over.

We were perfect for each other. We understood each other. The very essence of what makes us tick.

We are too much alike.

It would have been a toxic relationship if it had continued.

I know that. But oh, how I wanted it.

He would call me when He needed comfort. He would get close to me. Get scared then push me away.

Then a few days later He would call me again.

The last time, that heart breaking last time I saw Him, was bittersweet.

I hadn't seen Him for about two weeks. Then He texted me. Said He would pick me up.

I agreed to meet at a local pizza place.

He got there just mere minutes before me. And I might add calling me telling me He hated to wait.

I saw Him walk in. I waited.

I walked in and saw Him standing there. My stomach dropped, my heart rose. All those feelings came rushing back.

I went home with Him. I spent the night.

Four days later I moved.

Now, here I am....comparing everyone to Him.

Will that pain ever go away?

Will I ever find someone that makes me feel again?

Stay tuned,
Shelby

Cupid

Oh, Cupid...how he makes fools of us all.


And no, I'm not talking about that chubby little cherub who slings arrows your way.


I'm talking about his confusing, addicting, enticing twin - Internet Cupid.


I, Shelby Davis, am here to admit and share to you my Internet Cupid stories and adventures.


A hard breakup pushed me into looking for love on the internet and...*sigh*...I'm still looking.


Dear Reader my hope is that by sharing these "adventures" you will have a better understanding of the male mind.


One: they are married but won't tell you until it's too late.


Two: they are married, in an open relationship and want you to meet their wives.


Three: they are just out of a relationship and are still nursing their broken hearts.


Four: they want you to be accomplished actresses by roleplaying in several different roles.


Five: they get so drunk that they don't remember texting you from the night before.


Six: they are just plain bizarre.


So far, two months into my internet cupid search I have found every one of the aforementioned.




Stay tuned...
Shelby