Some friends of mine are playing a house concert this weekend, and I have been looking forward to it since the moment I heard it was happening. They. Are. Good. Soulful, they write their own songs, and the house is an acoustic environment that reverberates with magic. The last time they played this venue was Valentine’s Day, and I went alone. It was a soul-filing experience.
I met Matt through a colleague last year and he introduced me to one of his good friends, Carrie. Carrie and I get on like peas and carrots, and it was a very thoughtful connection on Matt’s part. I also think he is super attractive, so when we were at the same non-profit event a couple of months ago, I had just found out about this gig and invited him, knowing he would appreciate it (Matt and Carrie’s husband play in a really good band that stays pretty booked whenever they want to play). He said he’d put it on the calendar.
This past weekend I saw the whole crew at an event that the band played, and Carrie and I tried to catch up over the volume and the tired crankiness of her kids (I get you, kids!). She told me that they and a few other families with small kids are camping in Matt’s backyard this coming weekend, and she couldn’t make the house concert but I should come by Matt’s. Yeah! So fun!
Except I thought he and I had plans…haha. Yeah, no. But I get it, they’re friends like family, and a backyard camp out sounds so fun. Fun for them. I’m not part of the close group, and I have been looking forward to this house concert as something I am willing to share with people who I think will appreciate it, but I am not missing this for anything, and I am not driving way out of my way to go be an awkward camp crasher.
I got a couple of sweaty hugs from Matt after their set ended, and got him to introduce me to Carrie’s husband since she had already left with the kiddos. Matt had teased me about something, and I headed out when they started packing up their gear on my way to another event. I messaged him later with a further comment on what he had teased me about, just a short lighthearted comment.
People respond when they want to. They show up when they want to. If they can’t and they want to, and they care, they let you know why. My ex didn’t. A couple guys I’ve sort of not really dated since didn’t (dating with PTSD has been something I’ve pretty much avoided so far). And I have finally learned the lesson. If he was interested, he would make an effort. And he didn’t. And that’s that.
So I’m going to go to listen to musicians pour their souls out over guitars, eat and drink in a kitchen with strangers older than me, and not be sad that Matt chose not to join me. Because I won’t be missing anything, I’ll be right where I want to be.