The Shoe Spatula of Love

Remember Schmooly? The guy with the OBT (One Big Thing)? As I mentioned, every guy has one big thing wrong with him. Schmooly was the one that tickled my tonsils before the first date even began. I was mortified and could barely get through dinner after being date raped in the car outside the restaurant.

Well, despite the rough start, Schmooly stayed in my life for years after. We sort of dated here and there throughout the years, but mostly, we never got further than friends, as you could imagine given the tongue thrashing.

We ran in similar circles and knew many of the same people. Therefore, we bumped into each other often. He’s always held a torch for me and tried asking me out every so often. So, if I wasn’t dating anyone at the time, sometimes I’d say yes. Go figure. This went on for years. I’m not kidding, really, years. Way too long. I mean, I think we tried dating about six times throughout the 17 years that I knew him.

One of the last times we dated, we were seeing each other for about three months or so. I wasn’t getting drunk before our dates anymore (so that I could be attracted to him). Instead, I was just not attracted to him. I tried. I really tried. But wasn’t feeling it. I know it wasn’t fair to him, but I thought that maybe my feelings would grow. And they did. I really cared for Schmooly. Only thing was I found it difficult to be affectionate towards him. Okay. I know, I know. Give me a break already.

Towards the end of the summer of dating Schmooly, he became impatient. One evening, he said to me, while walking down the street on the upper east side, “I have love for you. I’d like to have children with you.” I would just like to point out the, “have love” not “I love”. Of course, I had to go and say something stupid like, “You want to have kids with me? Well, what are you waiting for? I’m not getting any younger.” Then it turned into a question of how old I was. Then he started talking to me about how he needed for affection, etc.

Ok, I have to be honest; I really hate a conversation like that. I really don’t ever want to talk about shit like that. You shouldn’t have to discuss how much or how little affection you want or need. But I guess he felt he needed to go there. I kind of became a little obnoxious, taking a napkin and writing down how much affection he should get at a particular time in a dating relationship. He just smiled. But he didn’t like it.

And how dare he tell me he’d like to have children with me, but then not follow it up with anything. He’s tells me he “has love” for me. What the fuck is that? How non-committal can you friggin’ get??

So, as you can see, that night was kind of a disaster. The weeks following, I didn’t see Schmooly very much. I think I was avoiding him and he was avoiding me. But that did give me time to think about what he said and how I felt about him. I really did care for him, as a person. And if he really did want to pursue a future, I would be willing to try.

Finally, he called …. To cancel plans. Then proceeded to start a conversation about the last conversation we’d had. I told him that I knew what I wanted. I thought that he was a really great guy and that I would …. Yeah, like what I just said in the last paragraph. As a response, he said he wasn’t sure what he wanted. I told him I deserved a person who knew they wanted me, that he had 17 years to figure out if he wanted me, and if he didn’t know by now he wasn’t every going to know.

He said, “let’s be friends.”

I said, “I have enough friends.”

“Oh.”

And that was that. Schmooly was out of my life,,, again.

Hmmm. Where was I?

Oh, right. Now I remember, the spatula of love…

So, a couple of years later, my Pop died. And low and behold, there’s Schmooly at the wake. I thought, ‘he loves me!’. And after that, we were in touch again. He’d schedule a lunch, or a trip to the camera store. I thought it was really just a friend activity, but then he’d plant a big kiss right on my mouth when he said good-bye. Huh? Which really threw me off. Again, this went on for a while. This very non-committal dating/friend ritual. It was getting old. Fast. ‘What the heck’s going on? Where do I stand?? I think he’s stringing me along!!’

While this was going on, my birthday came up.

“Good morning, Blue Shoes. Happy Birthday!” my doorman exclaims on Saturday morning.

“Why thank you, Jose.” Smile “Um, how’d you know it was my birthday?”

“Oh, your friend left you this. Dropped it off last night.” Jose hands me a wrapped present with ‘Happy Birthday Blue Shoes Manhattan’ on it.

“Who could this be from??” I thought, as I opened the card. It’s from Schmooly, wishing me a Happy B’day. Unwrapped the gift. It’s a spatula, in the shape of a shoe. A pump.

I called Schmooly from the car. “Thanks for the birthday present. But what time did you come by?”

“After midnight last night.”

“Why? Didn’t you want to see me to give it to me? At midnight on a Friday night, I’d either be out or asleep. It’s as if you didn’t want to see me or something.”

He just chuckled. “Well, I was out with some friends and thought I’d just drop it off.”

Is he an asshole or what?

How does a thoughtful birthday present turn into an insult? How does someone make that happen?? But stupid ass Schmooly did.

What did the shoe spatula represent? It was thoughtful, because he recognized my passion for shoes and he remembered my birthday. But the fact that he didn’t want to see me to give it to me in person meant that he just wanted to be friends. If so, then why would he even bother? I told him already. I didn’t want to be friends!

Don’t buy a woman a thoughtful birthday gift if you just want to be friends. It fucks us up, so stop it assholes!

I saw Schmooly recently. He was with his wife. Twenty years younger than he. Pregnant. Extremely shortly following their quickie wedding. I wonder if he “has love” for her?