A couple of eerily quiet days later, Date #3 calls me and says that he can’t see me again.

Why? I ask.

I just don’t think we’re a good match, he says.

I ask a few more questions, and am told that this is what his father has told him, this is what his friends have told him. I can’t decide whether to ask, “You mean all those friends who didn’t invite you over on Christmas?” or point out that he should really have opinions of his own at his age, and maybe he should seek counseling so that.

Mostly, I’m just annoyed that he fired me before I quit.

Date #3 has nothing to do on Christmas. I don’t understand how someone can have 354 Facebook friends and nothing to do on Christmas. I moved to Seattle in September of 2001 with no Facebook friends or Seattle friends and still I had plans that Christmas. I debate if I should invite him over.

I don’t think people should be alone on Christmas. I feel sorry for people who have to be alone on holidays.

I am troubled that I am dating someone who evokes feelings of pity in me.

I ask my father, who is also coming for Christmas, what he thinks. Invite him, he says.

He comes over on Christmas at around noon, but is weirdly silent. I try to talk to him, but he’s unresponsive. My father tries, too, but gets very little in response. The Child does okay with him, in the sense that the remote control helicopter she got for Christmas broke and Date #3 is able to fix it.

She thinks this is grand, because she’s been spending the morning in the front hall, attempting to fly said helicopter in a straight line up through the center of the chandelier. I have told her I’ll be very happy if she breaks the chandelier because I’ve always hated it and The Departed always told me that these sorts of things couldn’t be replaced except at great expense. My father tells me you just need the right kind of ladder – like the one in my backyard.

Give me a reason to get it replaced, I tell her.

We do our best, but it feels awkward and strained. Date #3 has finally run out of words.

When I leaves, I ask what the problem is. He makes excuses that even he does not believe.

He asks me, Have you gotten any counseling? For what happened.

No, I say.

You should go to counseling, he tells me.

Is that what you do all day long? I think. Counseling in Castleville? Because I can see your Facebook posts and when you’re not IM-ing me or texting me or keeping yourself abreast of reality TV while your son plays video games, you seem to spend a lot of time there.

I say, thanks, I’ll think about that.