The Swede

I should probably tell you about a few of the failed relationships that have led me to this blog, huh? Welp, I'm not quite ready to talk about RC, I'm still in that "want to punch you in the face you big giant asshat" stage, so, um, probably best if we don't talk about him just yet.

Let's discuss the Swede.

Oh my goodness, the Swede. I actually just deleted all his pictures off my phone last week which is so ridiculous because it had been months since we've spoken, but, damn if he wasn't adorable. And no, I will not be sharing said pictures with you. Sorry friends--he is a colossal idiot, but, he deserves his anonymity. I mean, unless you contact me personally and are willing to throw a water balloon at him or something, in which case, let's have a chat. Kidding!

But, in case you're curious, here's what I looked like on our first date.

I mean, he clearly should have fallen madly, head over heels in love with me, right? Yeah, he didn't.

He and I were perfect together and for each other. He's from California (like me!), actually went to my dad's alma mater, surfs, runs marathons and when we met had just finished up Ironman France--I had just run the Madrid Marathon. He's outdoorsy, has a business degree from UCLA, financially stable, the most amazing apartment, musical, has season tickets to the opera..... Shall I continue? I told him I was a singer and on our first date we ended up singing The Phantom of The Opera together while he played his guitar. I can't make this up.

Tall, blonde, tan, blue eyes--solid chance for redheaded babies.

Loves his family--was talking to his brother in SWEDEN when I arrived at the restaurant for our first date.

I was 100% myself with him from day one. He knew about my heartbreak, and I his. He would hold my hand (and kiss me) in public and loved it when I wore flats and was even shorter. He adored my hair and called me "hun".

We had similar interests, knew the same people and just "fit". He'd check on me when out of town for work and send me pictures of my favorite U.S city (Boston) when he had a conference there. I felt like my life had turned a corner, like I had met that someone I'd been looking for all my life. That I'd finally met The One.

Ohhhh, how very, very wrong I was.

He went home for a week to do a triathlon with his brother and then wrap up some client meetings in Los Angeles, where his company is based; we stayed in touch that week, he even checked on me when I was in St. Louis with friends during a tropical storm. I was so anxious to get home and see him. I was even booking a trip to Costa Rica for myself, but made sure to do so at the end of the month so we'd have time together when I got home from Missouri.

When I arrived home, anxious and excited to see him, the first text--yes, I was dumped via text--I received was from him telling me that whilst in California, he had gotten back together with his ex--who, by the way had cheated on him multiple times and left him a broken hearted wreck--and thusly, our relationship was over.

He then proceeded to send me screen shots of his run around the Lake on the route I introduced him to. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!

Asked if we could remain friends, I said sure--because I am Iris, but, I haven't heard from him since, except one drunken text in October. And now, now, there is the utter irony that he is on Match again and we are a 100% match. And he mentioned his favorite path at the Lake on his profile--you know, the trail that I showed him and WE ran together. This is my actual life, friends. FML.

I can sit here and say all day long that I wish he'd reach out to me again, because I really, really do, I can't imagine a better fit for me than him (well, I can, but, we'll talk about him another time), but do I really want someone who would just up and leave me for a cheating ex? No, no I don't.  I realize they had history and he and I only had a few months to go on, but, still, it's pretty chicken shit.

If I could clone him and remove the whole ditching the gorgeous redhead for the cheating bitch part of his brain, don't get me wrong, I totally, totally would.

I cried for a few days and was brutally broken, having just come off the worst heartbreak of my life not long before I met the Swede (the Brit was the worst heartbreak of my life, fyi) but, lucky for me, I went to Costa Rica, came home and met RC.

Well, maybe not so lucky, but, it helped me get over the Swede. Blessings as nightmares?

I'd like to say "wtf, men?!", but I wholly know that if the Brit asked for me back, I'd be there in a heartbeat--in a heartbeat.

GODDAMN IRIS AND EPONINE YOU ARE BOTH ME

So that my friends, is the story of the Swede who threw away an awesome girl and led her to meet RC who also chucked her and now is writing this here blog, so, maybe you guys send him a fruit basket? Preferably laced with something. KIDDING. I think.