(Un)Common Courtesy

So here's a question for the ages:  Say you go on a first date with someone.  (Or if you are an especially forgiving or thorough person, a second or third date.)  And, after some time, be it minutes, hours, or days, you are pretty darn sure this is not "the one" or you aren't ready for a relationship or you just plain don't like the guy.  As grownups do, you end the date politely and ambiguously.  But, knowing that the expectation of another date is hovering somewhere out there, do you make a formal rejection?  By that, I mean -- do you send a text/email/phone message wherein you gently explain that you don't see things progressing beyond that one (or two or three) date(s).  Such emails can be awkward to write, and a moderately humble person might also have difficulty with the necessary feeling of unrighteous smugness that comes from the notion that you have the power to reject someone who likes you.  Plus, reactions to these emails can range from pleasant to downright nasty.

For instance, I recently went out with a man who followed the date up with just such an email, the gist of which was "you're great, but I am not into having a relationship."  Lucky for him, neither am I.  So, sent him a reply along the lines of  "no worries; we're on the same page...see you around."  Neutral.  Calm.  And even when the (lack of) feeling is not mutual, civility may still be maintained.  I recently sent a nice gentleman a rejection email along the lines of "you're great, but I don't see this becoming romantic."  And received a nice reply:  "Can't say I am not disappointed, but let's be friends."  Adult.  Humane.  Even pleasant.  If all exchanges were this civilized, sending the rejection emails would not even be a point of debate.  They'd be like "thank you" cards, which no one takes personally in either direction.

Unfortunately, some people have no instinct but to be personally affronted by the rejection.  I once got a response along the lines of "Suit yourself, but good luck finding someone better than me, B*!@h."  And even if there is not overt indignance or swearing involved, if the reaction is just one of genuine disppointment or deeply felt rejection, the feelings of guilt can be overwhelming. 

It is a delicate balance.  And a risky business.  This whole rejection thing.  Which is why I can see why some people adhere to the "vanishing act" school of thought.  Just never contact the person again.  Keep them guessing as to the reason.  Either they will believe you were in love with them but were cruelly imprisoned by an evil stepmother (or hit by a bus) or they will believe that you are an arrogant prick who didn't deserve them anyway ("How ruuuude!").  Either way, they believe what they want to believe, and you are free and clear of any of the aforementioned ramifications of the rejection email.  You are however, as most of them will guess, rude.  Which might cause most generally courteous people some consternation.

So, we come back full-circle to the issue at hand -- what to do, what to do?  My answer: what I have always done -- play it by ear, go with my gut, and sometimes forget to do anything at all.  There are times when apathy is the best medicine for guilt.  I just wouldn't go overindulging, though.

The scene of my date with the man who was kind enough to reject me by email will forever live in infamy in my subconscious memory.  (Not because I cared all that much for him (although, he was hot), but because rejection stings even when you didn't want the person rejecting you anyway -- fact of life.)  But, that shouldn't stop anyone else from enjoying it:

Ace Bar
East 5th St. between Ave. A and B
I'll be honest, I don't remember a lot about this place aside from that it was moderately crowded on a summer Friday night, it drew a varied crew -- from early 20s students to medical residents in their 30s -- and had big comfy booths for groups to lounge.  I think there were games -- pool, darts, skee-ball.  I have to remember not to drink so much wine on a first date...