What's that on my forehead?

Is it a big 'L' for Loser?

Or 'Friend Only'?

Seems to me that either I am doing something wrong, or the men I date find something wrong with me that causes them all to say 'you're a great woman but I don't want to date you anymore; I hope we can still be friends.'

Things with Maart had, I thought, been going really well. We hadn't had any real disagreements on anything. We're both pretty easy going. We enjoyed each other's company and spent quite a bit of time together. Having the same weekends off (when working in health care, as we both do, that can be a huge issue) meant we spent each of those weekends off together at either his place or mine.

We went on a couple of vacations together and had a great time. He helped me around my house and I helped him around his. We cooked for each other. He was always affectionate and demonstrative. We held hands whenever we walked somewhere. He treated me well. I met his family and he met mine. Same thing with close friends.

His birthday was May 17th and the evening before, we both got a little tippled. Walking hand in hand around his neighbourhood late in the evening, we chit chatted and laughed and he told me who lives where (he's lived almost his whole life in this one little town) and tidbits of background on the area. When we were going to sleep, my alcohol addled brain told him I loved him. Which I do. But up to this point, I'd not said anything because past experience has made me rather skittish about revealing that. I'd never held back showing him how I felt, but had never told him before. If he said anything back, I don't know what it was, because I was asleep pretty much as my head hit the pillow. He had always been openly affectionate with me, although he'd never said he loved me either.

Last night, he came over for the evening before heading to work, bringing Chinese for supper. At one point, he turned to me and said "I'm sorry." Before anything else came out, my heart had already stopped. He told me he didn't love me, that it was mostly him and a little bit me ("You're an awesome woman but also sometimes you're frickin' annoying. But then I'm sure I am too.") and that he didn't want to be boyfriend-girlfriend anymore but hoped we could still be friends. That he wanted to be open to date someone else if that opportunity came up. And no, he didn't have anyone else on the side. That he didn't want to let himself fall in love again because he'd done that twice (first: his wife, who came home one day and told him she didn't want to come home anymore (their kids were 11 and 12 at the time); second: a five year relationship with a woman he met at work who apparently became a nightmare when she hit menopause and had horrible mood swings and general nastiness towards him and his kids) and it had hurt too much when things went tits up both times. He's not a cold hearted kind of guy at all. In fact, one of the things that attracted me was his generosity and warmth. Okay, so that's two things. There were lots more as well.

Well, I am sure you can imagine the tears. The heartbreak.  The "why didn't I see this coming?" thoughts. But in thinking about it after he left, I could see that there were subtle signs. Since his birthday, although he never rebuffed my sitting close to him, or holding his hand, or moving in for a hug or a kiss, he wasn't initiating any of that anymore. The sex never suffered... go figure.

So I am living in Singlesville again. All I can say is, fuck the online dating thing again. I am so not going there. I spent the six years prior to meeting Maart going through all that crap, over and over ad nauseum, and I just don't have the stomach for it again.

Maybe I'll just become a crazy cat lady. I think I need a few more cats to fit the description properly, though...