S.N.A.G. - Sensitive New Age Guy
S.A.G. - Super Awkward Guy
Douche Bags - Self-Explanatory
I really did like Mr. SNAG. He was nice, respectful, loving and thoughtful. He had his shit together, had a job, and his own place. He could just as easily appreciate the comic genius of Bill Hicks as he could the esoteric nature of Ouspensky. He was a rare duck in our small Central Oregon town.
The only problem with Mr. SNAG was the constant, daily relationship processing. The "I feel..." statements, the "What is the quality of our connection today..." conversations, and the "Where are we going..." questions.
I'm not the type of girl that wants to constantly discuss our feelings. My friends say I have the energy of a 14-yr. old boy, but just because I like to throw shit off buildings or skin my knee doesn't mean I'm not a sensitive gal. I'm just not the type of chick who is going to call you every day or want you to either.
After a point, it felt like we talked about our relationship more than we actually had a relationship. I really did like Mr. SNAG, I really did. I just wasn't the Sensitive New Age Girl for him.
Oh SAG. How awkward you are. 37 years of age and you still tell me 5th grade jokes that you punctuate with a punch in my arm. On paper, you're a catch: attorney, home-owner, educated, cute. In person, you stand too close, tell random, uninteresting stories and laugh at your own stupid jokes.
Something about your awkwardness was endearing. At first. Then we began flirting and kissing and I realized how awkward you really are.
You'd call me 7-10x one day and not again for several weeks. Then you were genuinely surprised when I commented on the sporadic nature of your attention.
You'd fawn all over me when you noticed another guy talking to me, but then would ignore me when I was alone at our Ultimate Frisbee games.
You called me one night and asked me to bring over a can of beans even though you live less than a half mile from the store.
I still heart you Super Awkward Guy. In an awkward sort of way.
Who hasn't dated a Douche Bag? The guy who treats you like shit and you let him.
I've dated several DBs, but the one that was the biggest douche was several years back. We were dating, or so I thought. We had a great connection, hung out every day, laughed and kissed a lot. He played the guitar like I've never seen before or since and I fell instantly. He said he had too.
It was the summer I fought wildland fires. I could get called out at any moment and need to leave in an hour. The call came and I left for two weeks. When I returned, he didn't return my calls for days. I went to our regular Frisbee pick-up game only to be approached by a cute, mutual friend.
"Uh, I wanted to let you know that ____ and I started seeing each other."
"Yeah. While you were away. We went to the coast and it just sorta happened."
"Just sorta happened, huh."
"Yeah. I'm sorry. I thought you should know."
"Uh-huh. Yeah. He prolly shoulda told me."
When I asked him about it, he shrugged his shoulders and said, "I didn't mean for it to happen. We were at the coast."
And that is what makes him a Douche.