I’ve been stood up twice by two different men.  I feel like this makes me an expert in the art of understanding the stages of it.

Denial is a big one.  You look at the clock at least 60 times for every minute. You rationalize everything from traffic to trade winds. Every sound prompts a less than graceful leap over furniture to nonchalantly (yet frantically) look out the window to spot his car.

Anger comes into play, but only after you re-check every email, text and phone message just in case you go the time wrong. I’ve shown up for a meeting two hours early, so these things need to be done. But then the simmer begins. By the end of the anger phase, you end up wondering why you ever wanted to go out on a date with him anyway.

Now, it would be ideal if the stages ended there, or with that that acceptance thing that everyone goes on and on about, but it doesn’t. More often than not, you slide into self-pity and land in the midst of the speech from Bridget Jones about dying alone and being eaten by wild dogs. If you’re very lucky, you’ll end up back at anger again.

Oh… um… I mean, you’ll end up in a place of benevolent understanding and forgiveness ready to try again. Yeah. That’s what I meant.

 

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