I was actually pretty excited about my date with Billy the Kidd. I felt pretty confident that as long as he was who he said he was, we’d be okay. There were some small flags down on the field that I was intentionally ignoring. Men who go on and on about their exes in any fashion is definitely one. Show me a man who is still angry or sad, and I’ll show you a man who isn’t over the past. His living situation? I was trying really hard to be okay with it, but there was a slight nagging edge that I was ignoring. He was far from homeless, but not as close to stable as I would have preferred.
Lastly, and this one seems crazy if you know me personally – he spoke too fast. Yes, I talk fast, but I don’t think I’ve ever been told I speak so quickly that I’m nearly unintelligible. Unless of course you’re listening to me and my youngest converse. But his was so fast that at times it made my head spin and I couldn’t understand him. I made a joke of him needing to slow down, but it was comparable to a fat kid with his face in a cake, telling the other fat kid to slow down on the sweets.
Anyway the day of the date arrived. My proverbial handbrake was starting to show signs of wear and tear in telling him how he needed to slow the fuck down, as well lower his expectations. Another flag. I was calling it, and recognizing it, but still I moved forward. He was placing his entire romantic life on my shoulders and it was wearing on me. I arrived on time, only to receive texts from him that he was lost. Then he called asking me to guide him to the restaurant. People he was like – 2 miles from the restaurant, and the city I live in is pretty freaking small. You could spit from any direction and practically hit the plaza the restaurant was in. I think all of these flags – they were starting to wear on me and I felt it when I responded to his “lost” calls.
Plus I HATE arriving first for a first date. That’s one thing I will give Love Bomb credit for. He always arrived super early to scope the place out, pick the best table and make sure I wasn’t having to wait on him.
It did give me time to arrive and have a cocktail before he arrived. It wasn’t a nerve settling one, because like I said I was feeling pretty good about who I was. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a tad concerned about who he was.
And I was correct. He showed up, and if I didn’t recognize his raspy voice and mile-a-minute speech, I swear I wouldn’t have known it was him. I could barely contain the shock (and very likely disappointment) on my face. He was at least 40-50 pounds heavier than even his most “recent” pic, and his body was even straining in the clothes he was currently wearing. He was sweating profusely (hot and day and nerves may have had a part in that). His eyes were sunken and grayish and looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks. His hair was thin and kept flopping in his eyes. I was so disappointed I wanted to cry. Instead I picked my jaw up and hugged him in the best “It’s so nice to meet you” vs “Holy shit, you fucking liar” mode. We sat down and he ordered a drink – a beer I think – my mind was still reeling and I was trying to pull it together. I mentally assessed the situation and realized the surprise was more jolting than the actual looks. If he had represented himself as he was, I might have still been interested. (But honestly probably not)
He nervously fumbled thru the next 90 minutes. He told me I exceeded his expectations, which just made my upcoming decision that much harder. How was I going to handle this? I had pages and pages of texts between us – him mostly, but the most romantic rumblings of hope and potential love, and all I could see was that there was zero chemistry with this person. The pictures were easily 20 years old, and when I later went back and looked at them I kicked myself in the ass for not recognizing this. I also looked at the pics he emailed me – the “very recent ones” and realized those were probably a year old at best.
I hightailed it out of there after a respectable amount of time, with a hug. I think you’d have to have lived under a rock to see that the extent of my interest had dropped extensively, but he still held onto hope. He texted me later to tell me how nice it was to have finally met me, and I could barely muster up the courage to respond. Unlike the Love Bomb, or Dear John, or even Google Him, I was going to have to treat this one with more delicacy. I felt he deserved it.
You see many many years ago when I first started dating, I was quite a few pounds heavier than I am now. I never misrepresented myself, but I had a date that apparently was very disappointed when we met, and I have never forgotten that look I got from him when I walked in. It was deflating and humiliating. And unlike me, he didn’t pull himself together and stick out the date in a polite and nice manner. He was rude and spoke maybe five words as he scanned the crowded bar, like he was looking for a life preserver. I stuck around long enough to finish my drink and hightailed it out of there, feeling sheer mortification at how I was treated. Nor did he follow up with anything other than bullshit (tbh I don’t recall how he followed up exactly but had it been with polite care, I would have recalled it. I just know it left such a sour taste in my mouth and mind that it’s literally scarred me and caused mass insecurities since then). Billy the Kidd and I may not have been a match made in heaven, but I was damned if I was going to hurt him in that manner.
So I waited a couple of days and then carefully wrote a very nice text, explaining that he really was a wonderful guy (because deep down he was) and that I was so very sorry the feelings were not reciprocated and that I truly hoped he found his true dream girl (he used to refer to me in that manner). I did block him, because I KNEW he would plead his case, and then I unfollowed his dating profile (or however its handled). But I forgot about the fact he had my email address.
About a week or so went by and sure enough he reached out via email. It was beautiful and sad. He said he understood and that I really was everything he wanted and that he appreciated my kindness, and it was such a shame, blah blah blah. Not blah blah as in my denigrating his message. Just that the exact words were not necessary here. I wrote back that I was sure he would find someone, and I was surprised when he wrote back one last time a sweet goodbye agreeing that he thought he would too, and I that I gave him hope, etc. Anyway, my point was I was glad it all ended with kindness, because hurting him was far from what he needed just because I was disappointed.
Lesson that I did learn here? RECENT PICS. I immediately updated my profile to state my pics were all recent, and to practically demand that theirs be too. Uh oh, was a little bit of that negativity that I read so much about starting to weave and attach itself to me, dimming my Susie Sunshine? You betchyer sweet ass it was.
Lesson that I should have had cemented itself to me? SLOW THE FUCK DOWN. – that one would bite me in the ass soon enough. 😉
Even though I had some hopes for Billy the Kidd and I, I was still determined that I really wanted to continue the dating experience. My end goal still wasn’t necessarily “Finding the One”, but hey if it happened while all of this was going on, then BOO-YA! – But until then, let’s see where this wild ride would take me. I was still talking with a couple of other men I found very interesting, and I soon brushed myself off and set forth down my proverbial yellow brick road. I might not have been in Kansas anymore, but I felt I was becoming a little more accustomed to this other side of the rainbow.
I had been having a lowkey very friendly and flirty connection with … hmmmm what shall we call him? The Partridge. When we initially met he was about to travel, and when he got back it was hit and miss with us a lot. I think we were both heavily attracted to one another, and I really liked his low key sense of humor. Our conversations didn’t usually last too long, but they never lacked a little bit of substance. He made me laugh a lot, and I’d learn he also made me blush a lot. We didn’t talk on a regular basis – sometimes he would text me a question, I’d answer and I wouldn’t hear a follow-up with him. Despite this we were definitely determined to meet one another. Finally weeks after initial connecting we lined up a lunch date one Friday. Once again I was working from home, and assumed the place we were going to was super casual, so I showed up way underdressed. Which again if you knew me you’d probably be shocked to hear. Prom Dress to a Picnic is how I’m usually referred to. This time I was really embarrassed and had to make comment about it.
Regardless of the fashion faux paus, lunch went pretty good. He was as attractive as his profile. Tall as he claimed. Maybe a tad thinner than I expected? I was definitely not disappointed. The lunch was interesting to say the least. He chose a noisier restaurant and unfortunate because of the two-seater table we were at it was sometimes difficult to hear his low key register voice. I also found myself blushing quite often, which was a tell-tale sign of my shyness with him. He definitely had the upper-hand, which meant I liked him, but was unsure of how he felt about me. Let me rephrase that. In some respects I literally felt like a cat with the canary, only I was the canary. This left me tongue tied a bit, and without being able to hear him all of the time I just simply wasn’t as comfortable as I could have been. There was something very slightly intimidating about him. Not in a physical way – maybe intellectually? I don’t know. I only know that while there was intrigue there was also some hesitancy with me as well. He definitely took control of the conversation, and at this point – I let him. Suffice to say I was still interested, still found him very attractive and hoped maybe to go on a second date. Preferably some place a little less noisy.
He threw me off just a tad when as we were leaving it had started to rain. I was caught completely unprepared and would have to walk a bit to my car. His lackadaisical approach to my having to do this? Didn’t win many points with me. He could have said, “wait here under cover while I go get my car to drive you to yours”. Yes, sometimes I am a princess, but not a demanding one. Despite that oversight on his part I let him give me a sweet, almost chaste but not quite – kiss goodbye and that was it. Was he interested? To be frank, I wasn’t sure. And I wasn’t going to be certain for a few more weeks. My story with The Partridge would continue, but with a brief break.
The next story – shit I feel like it really deserves it’s own chapter. I think if I were Dorothy, this would be the part where I land in the Poppy Fields and lay there stoned out of my gourd for a short period. The aftermath included at least one Flying Monkey situation.
Long time no see. Or no write either. But the tides have changed, the writing energy is flowing, and I’ve got too many characters in my head to actually ignore the storylines!
This blog was originally intended as a journey through dating many years ago, but then the dating stopped. After a brief respite of oh – what eight years? — I decided to climb back on the horse known as Dating and give her a ride. The decision happened actually quite organically. Prior to, I had succumbed quite happily to living the remainder of my life ala Diane Keaton with my cream colored wardrobe, with plans on morphing into a simple elegant Katherine Hepburn in my latter days; both of them fiercely independent and fire-y as all get-up. I embraced this scenario not with resignation but in an open loving manner. And everyone around me knew and accepted this. There weren’t covert attempts to pair me up, nor questions when this phase of mine might end.
And then one night out with girlfriends dancing and drinking I met someone. He was cute and quietly funny, and there was a spark I hadn’t really felt in such a long time, I wasn’t sure if it was really there. But it was a no brainer when he asked me for my number, and I left that night with my friends sporting a splitting grin on my face, and murmuring that I felt 15 years old again. Who IS this girl I wondered later? The one who had her heart ever-so-slightly jump started once again. Whoever she was, she climbed back into the saddle like she’d never left it (or so I thought at first) and VOILA like that I was back in the dating field.
Although that relationship didn’t work out (AT ALL), and it really did break my heart in some respects, it taught me a few needed things, and mostly – it pushed me back out the door into the dating arena. So regardless of the outcome between he and I, I think I’ll always be grateful for that. And by push, I mean SHOVE, because of course I’m not one to do things in a simple manner – just as I had seemingly thrown myself into my singledom, I threw myself back OUT into the world of dating, and holy fuck – Toto, I’ve a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore!
Let’s start with the innocence and naivety. I really started this sojourn thinking things would be pretty smooth. I knew who I was and what I wanted. I’d been in therapy for over a year, fine tuning the nuances of myself, and really felt decently equipped to handle things. I spoke to my therapist about what it was I was looking for, and the list seemed clear enough. I placed it out in the atmosphere, simply by thinking it. I wanted someone who communicated, was intelligent, with a good sense of humor. Someone genuine, and attractive (to me), and spontaneous, who loved music and was kind to people and animals. I knew I was missing something, but I put the list together in a haphazard rush. My therapy sessions since then I feel are overly focused on this wave of alternating characters (as you’ll see) and I am overwhelmed at times at how quickly dating lives ebb and flow. How can a person be so important this week, only to be crushed and replaced by someone new weeks later?
What is the saying about the best laid plans? First and foremost, I was not as equipped as I thought I was. My gears were rusty, and while I had spent years fine tuning everyone else’s relationships, I wasn’t exactly sure on how to navigate my own. I naively believed in the best of people, and ignored red flags that screamed at me. I cried over boys like I was a teenager again, not understanding the rules. But mostly I learned that the list I had worked on with my therapist, the one I so haphazardly put together really lacked specifics.
Let’s start with wanting someone who communicates. Meet the Love Bomber. My oldest was the first to point out his similarities to a toxic relationship a friend of hers had, but I was certain I was too smart to fall prey for one. He was my second round pick, after the abovementioned Bar Date had sort of ended, and I like to think he was lesson number two. He was the salve I so desperately thought I needed when things with Bar Date would fizzle, and my poor newly acquired ego was bruised and battle worn. It should be noted that Bar Date and I continued to fizzle, pop and regain signs of life for a number of months before it finally ended in a sad puddle of tears and confusion. Again, I hadn’t been specific in my pleas to the dating Gods about communication, and while Bar Date communicated, he did so constantly with puzzles, and riddles. His nickname should honestly be The Riddler, but I’ve already baptized him Bar Date, so that he shall remain.
Anyway, the Love Bomber I would eventually learn, would communicate, but nothing on what I asked about. Instead he came at me so fast he had my head spinning. I’ve often wondered how he zero’d in on me. Did he cast a wide net, and I happened to be the one who stayed caught, or was it a specific attraction to me as he claimed? Whereas Bar Date was hesitant with signs of affection, Love Bomber drowned me in it. Daily. Every morning I woke to You Tube videos of love songs, and romantic snippets from movies. What started out perplexing started to seem sweet, and I found myself reaching for my phone groggily each morning looking for these saccharine laden shots of affection. I realized that Love Bomber got me so used to his actions, his daily affirmations and quick assertions of falling in love, that I sort of became addicted to it. Like someone who is force fed fistfuls of candy might be. When the sugar stops, you sort of find yourself jonesing for more, even though in reality it makes your head hurt, and your stomach lurch.
What Love Bomb was actually doing was spinning my head so strongly that I ignored all signs of things being desperately not what they seemed. I finally hit a wall, and detoxed emotionally, puking up sugar until I was in a river thicker than syrup. It was then that the unanswered questions he so easily dodged became a mainstay. Answer or leave became my mantra. He’d promise to talk and then avoid the phone. Finally he left. Ok, he didn’t really leave, I did. Surprisingly though, he continued smaller muted attacks of love for a month or so after, as if nothing had changed. It only left me feeling stupider and stupider for not seeing him for who he was from the start. I finally had to block him.
Lesson learned from both? Stand your ground on communication, and get the questions answered. And if looks too good to be true? It probably is.
Facebook Dating, the first go around.
I had met Love Bomb on a paid site, and realized that money didn’t actually get you a higher caliber of men., so when my three month run ended, I cancelled. Some friends of mine joined Facebook Dating and since my luck on the one paid site left such a sour taste, I decided Free fit me better for the time being. So after picking myself up, and dusting all the powdered sugar that Love Bomb had drenched me in, I went back to the playing field. That was realistically about a week, but in dating time, it felt like months. I calculate dating time like I do dog years. While I didn’t want to rush into things, I understood briefly that a lot of men did. Profiles were stating they weren’t looking for hook-ups, or one night stands. They wanted LOVE! They wanted their “partner-in-crime”! (a most often used metaphor) – where the hell was I when all of this dating was male centered around getting laid and avoiding commitments? Now I wanted casual, and that was deemed as the kiss of death with men.
My how times had changed.
Nevertheless I immediately felt like the Princess of the Ball, not realizing when you first head onto these sites, it’s sort of like being the new girl in a town that had only seen locals for years. The Zombies are all awoken by the smell of fresh new blood, and you’re immediately inundated with gasps of praise and pleas of romance. If you’re not careful it can go to your head.
My attitude was fresh and sweet. I was fresh cream in a sea of curdled buttermilk. I was nice to everyone, and couldn’t understand how many of the men seemed so jaded. So many of their profiles screamed about what they DIDN’T want. “!!Don’t reach out to ask me to use WhatsApp!!” “!!Don’t ask for money!!” (duh?) “!!Don’t do this!! Don’t be that!!” Such negativity my Susie Sunshine heart thought. I was polite when I was rejecting men, treating them with the courtesy I would have liked. I didn’t ignore, and even the few who were rude – I killed with kindness. “Best of luck!” I’d wish them. I picture myself now, as frolicking and skipping with a halo of pure sunshine thru a meadow of vipers and exhausted snakes completely unaware of what lay ahead.
I had decided early on I wanted to sample the wares before making any rash decisions. Love Bomb had smartly (for him, not so much for me) convinced me to give him a solo chance, and while a part of my brain was fighting this (and honestly I was still hung up on Bar Date during most of this time), I also found it slightly appealing. Once things truly ended I decided I was going to actually date and see what was out there.
The next few dates were a fountain of lessons learned.
Up first was one I’ll call Google Him, which will be explained shortly. He was local, attractive, smart and seemed to be very much who he said he was. One of the things I didn’t explain about Love Bomb, was that his insecurities caused him to grossly inflate his actual life. To this date, I’m not 100% certain on what areas of his life were truth, and what were exaggerations. I only knew for fact that some of them were lies, and based on that alone, I had to assume everything else could have been. So it seemed important to me to make sure I didn’t fall into that trap again. So that became my first sour rule. Sort of a precursor to the men who screamed “No WhatsApp!”, mine became, “No Liars!”. As if a litany of lying men who would slink off, stating “Well she did say no liars, so I guess that precludes us.”
Anyway, back to Google Him, the only red flag I seemed to get, was his incessant need to speak … about him. I had noticed the same with Love Bomb. Information about me didn’t really seem all that important. Others that I spoke with seemed to be somewhat similar, and I started to question, did men from my past seem to be this way, and I just didn’t recall? Did I have the older version of the How to Understand Men Handbook? Was actually knowing ME, not as important as me getting to know them? I shelved it for the time being and moved forward. We started to communicate on a daily basis, and while my other avenues were open, I did find myself sort of leaning towards him. I looked forward to his evening calls, which were nearly every night, even if brief. Finally after a couple of weeks (in dog years no less) we decided to meet.
This was going to now be my third date.
Prior to meeting I had to admit to a small sense of nerves. With this only being the third man I had met since my sojourn back into the land of dating, it lent itself to a series of insecure questions I didn’t really feel with the two before. The first I knew was attracted to me, because we met organically, and he knew what I looked like. The second had placed me on a pedestal, and literally two seconds into my date I knew I had passed whatever test I put forth thru in my own mind to meter out their sense of attraction. While I 100% placed only current pics and a full body pic (which I will discuss later), my broad confidence constantly plays games with my inner insecure side and I was definitely feeling it with this guy.
We met, and the date went fabulously … okay. He was slightly shorter than his profile stated, but not by much. I had worn flats as to not appear to be too dressy, and he was nearly my height without them. He was still cute, but I couldn’t honestly gauge if he felt attracted to me. It was slightly unnerving not to know, and I couldn’t very well just ask, although after a bit of wine the question sat there on the tip of my tongue.
He was an ex-sommelier, and we met at a local wine bar, where he relegated, and impressed me with his knowledge of wines. I say that with tongue in cheek because I retained about 2% of the information. While I like wine, I like what I like because of the taste, not because of the history. I don’t care where the grapes were harvested, or how they were aged, or any of that. I’m what you would call, the opposite of a wine snob. But I smiled and figured this could be a case of nerves, and his need to impress me on the first date. After a couple of hours and a full bottle of wine I think it was fair to access we had a certain amount of chemistry. I just wasn’t sure at this stage how I felt about him. He seemed aggressive, and slightly pompous. I loved a man with confidence, but was this too much? Was I attracted to it, or repelled? I couldn’t tell. Both perhaps? When we parted we kissed, so I knew there was a certain amount of like on his part. The kiss was nice. Not gross, but no huge sparks. I deemed he was definitely worth seeing again.
We talked that night and he told me he found me sexy, so I crossed that worry off my list. Why that played such importance with me is something I still work on in therapy. The truth was, I was still unsure if I was willing to date him again for the right reasons, or if like the Love Bomb it was easier to go with the program than fight it. I did know this fact; I still wanted to date others. It was unspoken, and I had to assume the same for him.
A few days later I had a lunch date with Dear John at a local Indian restaurant. I assumed the dress code as super casual; like fancy fast food. I was working from home, and stated I would show up casual. What I didn’t realize was the place was a tad more upscale, so my Harley tee and jean shorts were ever-so-slightly under dress code. First for me, who is known for being overdressed for ALL occasions. Interestingly enough, this wouldn’t be the first time this would happen to me.
Dear John was nice. Unlike Google Him, I wasn’t insecure about my looks. He showed up late for lunch and full of sincere apologies about getting turned around, but I knew the moment he walked in the door there was zero attraction on my part. This is the folly of online dating. Understanding that generally speaking, what you see online would be 100% of the best he or she will ever look, because of course, we put our best foot (or face in this case) forward. His being late just meant less time with him. The lunch went smooth. We had musical tastes in common, and he was smart. Conversation wasn’t lacking. But zero connection, which meant for the first time I was to be confronted with how I wanted to deal with someone asking me if I would be willing to go on another date when I knew in my heart the answer was no.
I was comforted that when we left he only wanted a hug, but he did finally ask the question, “Was I willing to see him again?” I placed the biggest fake smile on my face and I did the most chickenshit thing and said of course I would! – I figured I would cross that bridge when I came to it.
I was also now in the beginning intense throes of conversation with … Billy the Kidd. He was a couple of years older than me, and I was wildly attracted to him. Or to the pics he posted. He was 100% to the tee what my twenty year old self would like. I joked about how younger me would have loved younger him (I could tell his pictures were not recent) – and in talking we realized we frequented the same places at the same times in the 80’s and 90’s. Could we have passed one across one another’s paths during those years? Possibly.
He did have some slight similarities to Love Bomb, but his love bombing was in the form of long prose. Texts that went on paragraph after paragraph, telling me how wonderful I was, and peppering them with wanting to know and understand me. He was like a sweet lost romantic soul on the wrong planet, and I once again, got sucked up into it. While he was moving a bit fast, I felt there was a handbrake with this one, unlike before. And to be honest it felt kind of comfortable to be adored once again.
In retrospect I did find another similarity between he and Love Bomb, their “inability” to grasp modern technology. Love Bomb always stated that while he wanted something exclusive with me, he didn’t delete his dating profile, because he didn’t know how (*coughbullshitcough*) – I bought into it, because I wanted to. Billy the Kidd said he couldn’t text me updated pictures of himself (Like selfies taken that day) because he didn’t know how to work his phone. Instead he emailed me (which meant he now had my email address) pics that he said were recent.
Hmmm. I was mixed on this one. The pics were him – but they weren’t really the guy I was attracted to. He swore the other pics – the ones I was attracted to were only a year old.
Meanwhile, I was still trying to decide how I felt about Google Him, when one night I did just that – I googled him.
I don’t think Googling a date is anything unexpected. In fact I don’t recall why I didn’t do it sooner. I Googled both Bar Date and Love Bomb, and got some generic info. Love Bomb had zero social presence and possibly some questionable info, but like Bar Date, both had adult sons with the same name, so one could never tell. Bar Date was exactly who he said he was, and at some point we were even Facebook friends. I was convinced that Love Bomb truly had no social media presence. Better to hide himself, or was he the naïve waif he claimed?
But Google Him, was completely unexpected. I knew before we went out that our political affiliations didn’t line up. I was sort of squinching my eye trying to place this information into the right kind of focus, but he assured me he wasn’t overly political, and honestly I wanted to believe that, so I did. Once I googled him though – different story. Not only was he heavily involved in politics, he was the type to argue these facts on Twitter. Name calling, bullshit pieces. That was bad – but wait, it got worse. Not only did he respond and talk in political forums on Twitter, he did so on pornographic ones.
Did you even know Twitter had porn? I didn’t. I do now.
Now, I’m not one to judge anyone on their likes or dislikes sexually. If it’s consensual, and not involving minors or animals, I say fly that freak flag! BUT – upon only one date, we might not want to know your exact predilection – especially if you’re the type to respond to sex workers online as if they are your own partners. Not only is it sad, it’s sort of … well to me? Creepy. And guess what? When you do this, and your Twitter account isn’t on lock down? The whole world can see it.
So yeah I had to marinate in that knowledge for a few days longer, trying to decide if it mattered enough to me.
I decided it did. It wasn’t just that, it was peppered with the reality that while my politics may have lowered in volume, they never lowered in passion, and our views were polar opposite. While I might have been able to overcome some things, add into that the aggressive domineering red flags already going on and I found myself dodging and ducking his phone calls and texts.
I needed to do something about the very small growing stable of men I was in a way, sort of leading on. See that’s one aspect of this dating I hadn’t considered. Sure I knew there would be times I would be rejected. I am far from God’s gift – but I didn’t stop and think how *I* would do the rejecting. I spoke with my youngest about things and she advised me – just block them. I had only had one date with each of them and I owed them nothing more. But the – what side of me? Susie Sunshine, still felt this sense of explanation was due.
Plus I told her, Google Him had my work number. “WHAT?!” she exclaimed, “How!?!” I told her I preferred that to talking on my cell phone during work hours and I had given it to him. She still stood by her stance I owed them nothing and it was okay to ghost them. But my sense of right and wrong was still running strong. Maybe not as much with Dear John, as we hadn’t talked as much, but definitely with Google Him. We were talking daily, and having phone conversations every night until I had googled him. So I set up two texts – one to Dear John, just explaining that I thought he was a super sweet guy, but I just wasn’t feeling a romantic connection. I wished him well, and then hurriedly blocked him on my phone, so I wouldn’t have to read anything more. I expected he would react in a very gentlemanly fashion, but it would have hurt my heart regardless.
Next would be telling Google Him and I was honestly a bit scared. Did I think he would come unglued and do something to me? No, not really. But I did wonder if he might confront me. He seemed the type. Also at the tip of things was how honest was I going to be? I wanted to tell him what I found, but I also wanted a clean break. Decisions, decisions. I finally decided on a bit of both. I texted him (after one date an end to things by text is still considered okay) and told him in a nutshell just like Dear John that after some pondering I just didn’t think that I saw something romantic with us. Unlike Dear John I didn’t go on about how he was such a nice guy though. Because honestly, I don’t think he is. I wasn’t admitting that to myself, but in retrospect that was the crumb I was choking on. I think he knew how to smile and act like the nice guy, but enough of him glimmered through to allow me to see a narcissistic side of him peering though. So I did the whole “I don’t think we are meant for one another…”spiel, including that I didn’t think I was his type (Twitter showed me I most definitely wasn’t) and then because I just couldn’t let it go, I added into my message that he might want to consider Googling himself (hence the name) to see what others might see. Then I quickly blocked him. On my phone and on the dating site. Because honestly I don’t think he was going to take that very well.
Was it my place to tell him that? Who knows really. I’m not the morality police. It wasn’t even a moral position I was holding. It was lesson #2. Follow your gut instincts, especially when they tell you to walk the other direction.
Now it would be time to get ready for my date with Billy the Kidd. …(to be continued)
Single File Dating 