The Boyfran and I attended a wedding this past weekend, during which the Bride and Groom did a quick Q&A– one of the prompts was “how they met.”
Boyfran immediately leaned over to whisper in my ear.
“We’ll have to make up a good story for this.”
I shook my head, just as I’d done when he told me that if I make him dance in front of people it will ruin his wedding day. I wholeheartedly agree, but I figure I’ll let him sweat it out for now.
The thing is– he’s not proud of how we met. Because it was, *gasp* online.
After a full year of post-Psycho Ex singledom, I decided it was time to dive back into the dating pool. I promptly signed up for an online dating account and began dating a miniature psycho-ex whom will be discussed at a later time as the Druggie Man Child. That’s all you need to know for now, but suffice it to say, we broke up at a casino. Because yes, I am that classy.
There were a few halfhearted breakup attempts with the Druggie Man Child, the last of which had me responding to various other online dating suitors. Amongst the various prospects was a normal looking guy with a sparse and non-committal profile. He seemed way too stable for me, but he’d traveled overseas (rare) by himself (even rarer) so I gave him my number.
A few hours later, he finally texted. He was incredibly bad at it, like epically lacking in game.
He basically just asked if I wanted to “grab a drink.” Who did this guy think he was? Didn’t he know I expect to be lavished with attention from the get go and treated to all sorts of wonderful first-time experiences and memory-making moments?
I said “sure,” we agreed on a time and location and then I didn’t hear from him for a few days.
So I cancelled our date.
A week or so passed, and the normal guy tried again. Druggie Man Child was out of the picture so we made plans to grab a beer.
Then he made some attempt at humor and referred to me as a “crazy cat lady,” despite the fact I don’t have any cats and questioned whether or not I might be an “ax murderer.”
Excuse me? Don’t you know who I am? I am pretty much a redheaded Beyoncé, minus the fact I don’t do anything but eat Nutella and watch Netflix. How dare you suggest that I’m the crazy one in our potential dating situation? I’m the one who dates terrible people, okay. Not the other way around.
I cancelled again, and deleted his number. Good riddance, man of no game.
I came to a very important realization: Dating was not for me. Men were not for me. I would replace intimacy and male companionship with someone that was much easier to cultivate, control, and enjoy:
I had a very sketchy past when it came to plants, but I was determined. I even bought a bundle of sage to burn throughout my house, trying to rid myself of shitty-men-juju. I purchased an SUV full of herbs, vegetables, flowers, soil, rakes, and various other things that looked like a gardener should purchase. I was ready to be hip and single and green thumbed unto the end of my days.
Then I got a text from a number I didn’t recognize.
“You really shouldn’t go to so much trouble to get me to go on a date with you and then just ignore me for two weeks.”
I knew that tone. It was the man with no game.
I’d had a couple adult beverages and was high on fertilizer and topsoil so I went ahead and typed out a reply. He hadn’t upped his offer at all, we were stilling talking about “a beer.”
I told him I appreciated the offer but was giving up on men and dating and choosing a life of horticulture.
“Nah,” he said, “You don’t really want to be alone for the rest of your life.”
Once again, who did this guy think he was?
“I think you need to let me buy you a drink and you can repay me by telling me about how you stomped across Southeast Asia.”
I rolled my eyes and agreed, just to get it over with. It would be my last hurrah until I turned into some sort of HGTV superstar.
Like most of my plans and best laid intentions, I failed. After the first date, he still had very little game– and I think that’s what did it for me. I was accustomed to the smooth talk and grand gestures of men who have to rely on smoke and mirrors in order to ensnare a woman.
I tried my best to frighten him away– I talked all about having a stalker/dropping out of college and quitting my job to go travel and then questioned him relentlessly on whether he was secretly gay, had a secret child, or a secret wife at home. For some reason, he asked me on a 2nd date.
Tomorrow, we will have been together for a year. I’ve even managed to keep a few of those plants alive since then. This is the closest I will ever come to self actualization.
I try not to gush too much online about how wonderful he is or how happy I am– the internet is for complaining, after all. But if you’ll forgive me just this once, I’ll even leave you with a nugget of wisdom: Sometimes good things happen, despite our best intentions.
How did you meet YOUR significant other? Have you had any luck with online dating? Do you discuss inappropriate things on your first dates?
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