When I first moved after college I started talking to a nice boy. He eventually invited me out to dinner and we hit up this cute little Thai restaurant. It was a lovely evening that went on for hours before we both had to head home for the night. We did a little cheek kiss goodbye and promised to speak to each other soon. So, when he hadn’t called three days later, I called him. He didn’t answer. I called again. And again. I left messages and kept my phone close by (like, on my pillow as I slept) so I wouldn’t miss his call. Which never came.

I obviously should have gotten the hint, but I just couldn’t let it go. We had such a great date; how could he just stop talking to me? What did I do wrong? Why would he tell me he’d call if he never planned to? I needed to hear it - I needed to know he wasn’t interested. I needed that closure.

Eventually, which was far too long in any sane person’s book, I gave up and moved on. He wasn’t going to call. I had my closure. Looking back, I realize just how crazy I was. Literally, crazy. No wonder he never called back; he was probably at the police station trying to get a restraining order. But I was young and alone in a giant new city. That boy was the one thing I had to hold onto while I started a new job, found a new apartment and adjusted to life outside of Ann Arbor, Michigan.

I know now that no answer is the loudest and clearest answer a guy can give. Yet, even now, as a more mature and experienced adult, I can’t shake my desire (or relentless need) for some verbal communication. Not so much for the closure anymore – completely losing my dignity got me over that one quickly - but more as a much needed learning tool. If I did something wrong, I want to know so I can fix it for future experiences.

Like, if I came on too strong, or not strong enough; if my humor was a bit overwhelming on the first date, or if I came across as a bitch. Something. I just want to shake these guys sometimes; just tell me something! I know that it’s always easier to just let things fizzle and die, but I just want some answers, damn it. I am trying to grow from this experience. Help me grow, will you?!

It’s like getting rejected from a job. Imagine getting that generic rejection letter or, even worse, no rejection letter at all! You would want to know why you didn’t get the job, wouldn’t you? You know, so you can spruce up your resume for the next time, or wear a nicer suit on future interviews.

I just want to know which suit to wear on my next interview. At the bar. With a single man.

I know those answers will never come – and that I will never ask because that makes me look crazy – but I can’t help but need to know. It seems so much more productive than blaming the guy and assuming I am perfect. Even though I am damn near close.

Am I alone in this one?