My Internet Dating Survival Guide

I made myself a few solemn vows after a few months of delving the pits of internet dating to find love, or at least a suitable plaything for the time being…

They end up coming to you, almost subconsiously; you find certain repeating patterns of interactions that wind up with wasted time in lacklustre conversations, or even better, ending in Dating Horror Stories.

The first rule that came to me, I’ve written about before;

1. ‘Hey, how are you?’ does not warrant a response. 
The people who send these messaging don’t appear to be great at conversation, they don’t really have anything to say, they aren’t willing to make the effort to acknowledge the time you spent refining your dating profile, therefore, why bother replying? It’s basic social etiquette that the person initiating a conversation asks something to which the response is not going to be ‘Yep, fine. You?’

And always…ALWAYS the second question is…“Up to much?”
“Currently sat at home on the internet, on a dating site. Strangely. You?”
And so it goes.

2. Bare profile = barely responsive.
I can’t be arsed to try and make a conversation out of nothing. No one has ever felt compelled to respond to a message saying ‘Hey, how are you, what do you do for a living? What hobbies are you into? BTW I’m only interested in you based on your 312 profile pictures, especially that one of you posing with a drugged up tiger…’

Ignoring either Rule 1 or Rule 2 inevitably leads to;

3. If a decent conversation doesn’t start within a few messages, there’s no point in continuing.
I had an exchange that went something along the lines of;

Guy: “Hey, how are you? You have a dog, do you like animals?”

Soddinl: “Yep, love animals. How about you, do you have any pets?”

Guy: “Yeah my whole family loves animals.”

When I failed to respond, the guy pestered me a week or so later, questioning why I didn’t reply to his lack of further conversation.

Soddinl: “Well the last response wasn’t exactly much of a conversation starter.”

Guy: “I answered the question, what more do you want? lol”

Soddinl: **Keyboardface**

At the beginning, there’s about a million questions someone could ask in the attempt to get to know you. An epic fail of not bothering to A. expand on the answer with further points of conversation and B. Return another question makes me wonder how disasterously awkward the date would be, should we meet…I could only imagine I’d have to drown out the agonising silence with a range of alcoholic beverages and have conversations in the loo with other, non socially inept total strangers to get through the awkward date tragedy, before I seize upon the first opportunity to haul arse out of there.

4. If he doesn’t message you, he’s just not that into you.
I’m making up the statistic here, but approximately 90% of the guys I messaged first either didn’t respond, or had polite but nondescript conversations with me because ‘Eh, why not?’. As a result the conversation fades quickly, there are longer intermissions between messages, and then poofgone. Time = wasted.

When a guy messages you however, you already know they’re interested…in your photo at least.

The men who messaged me first, they were really interested in impressing me in sweet, simple ways (buying the first round, taking me to a nice bar with good music, attempting good conversation, asking questions and responding appropriately etc.) for the most part at least.

There are exceptions to every rule, however. There was the guy who messaged me first, took me to a dive bar and made repeated jokes about my ‘balls’ and other transgender related chortles. I feel I should point out, I’m 5ft, curvaceous in mostly the right places and I am pretty certain I don’t grow designer stubble. Don’t get me wrong, I can take the piss out of myself like a pro, but the 5th mention of my imaginary balls, I had to refrain myself from making his balls imaginary…

I did coninue sending a few sporadic messages to men, one or two resulted in a date which weren’t too bad, but for the most part, the minimal results weren’t worth the effort. Sitting back and relaxing, letting the guys come to me and picking which ones I liked the look and sound of was my chosen path to a date.

5. Sexual innuendo before even a few basic minor flirtations are exchanged.
RUN. RUN AWAY. Block the fucker, change your phone number, move house, fake your own death…Seriously. Just no.

During my first few weeks on dating sites, before I began implementing rules 1 and 2, I got a lot of lotharios inviting themselves round to mine or inviting me round to theirs even before conversation basics were covered. That and a few deeply unneccessary prick pics. (Maybe they thought I might burst into The Sweetest Thing’s Penis Song…?)

One time I stupidly ignored my gut and let certain excessive innuendos slide before a meet…notice I say meet, rather than date; I had no sexual or romantic interest in the guy and made no hint that I was interested at all, no flirtations, no nothing…All I can say is, I’m glad we met in public, because even in that situation, he did not want to take no for an answer. I managed to get out of his grasp relieved that I only felt violated rather than actually being violated.

None of these guys seem to understand No, Sod Off or Cease and Desist orders. For your own safety, avoid.

Does Michael Myers Ever Die??! Letting Go Is Hard To Do…Apparently.

Once you get attached to someone it can be really hard to break free of the idea of you and them being together…I know what it’s like from first hand experience, quite often the product of unrequited love/lust/crush, but you get over it and if you’re sensible, you don’t do anything more freaky than a little bit of Facebook stalking…

A guy I dated seems to be having trouble letting go of me. The dude from my first post. We dated for not quite two months, but from a couple of weeks in, I was starting to have doubts. By 6 weeks, I was dreading having to spend time with him. I’d rather have had a surprise hysterectomy. Fully conscious. It got that bad.

What was worse is that he was utterly shocked when I broke it off with him. People that know me find me to be as transparent as sheet glass when I don’t particularly enjoy something. I try to hide it, but I fail. Epically. And yet, this guy was so self involved he didn’t notice…or didn’t care that I didn’t really like spending time with him. He didn’t see that I just stopped responding to him talking at me. That my smile was tight lipped, or that my tone of voice was flat, apart from when my frustration with him rose, which was far too regularly.

When I broke it off, I made it clear that my decision had been made, I’d thought about it, I’d come to a conclusion and I was staunch that I was ditching him. It seemed only fair on both of us.

He tried convincing me that I was being too rash. Because fantasising about slapping a guy round the head with a halibut is not proof enough that this was not going to work out…

During this attempted convincing, he told me he was planning on taking me for a trip to London. First I’d heard of that. At that point, I would’ve preferred spending a relaxing weekend in the Tower of London tied to a rack being made to watch a dude sharpening implements of torture.

I state my case again, this is not working, I’m not happy, it’s over.

He dropped the L bomb. He loves me, says he. Fuck me, says I (in my head, of course). That’s desperation for you. He didn’t even know me, he wouldn’t let me speak and didn’t have a clue what I was feeling despite it being painfully obvious, but he loves me. Bull.

Enough is enough, says I. Time to bring out the big guns.

“I just don’t want to waste your time. I really can’t see myself ever loving you.”

I felt like I was murdering Bambi in front of him. This is it. He must be aware, now, exactly how it is, this will end all the arguments, retorts, emotional manipulations and convincing, I tell myself.

Wrong.

“I think you will.” Says he.

Bollocks.

He looked pretty damn sure of himself as well. Maybe Stockholm Syndrome got the better of the previous girlfriends?

After this, I gave up. Left him to his tears and delusions and walked home. There was no convincing this guy that I had made my decision and it was final. Abandonment was the way to go. Sure, I felt like a heartless bitch, but there’s only so many ways to tell a person ‘Dude, I’m done with this shit, seriously’, and have it be ignored before it’s time to just GTFO.

I didn’t hear from him for a couple of weeks, and I was relieved. I thought it might have sunk in, and that maybe he would go back to his Mothers (think Norman Bates), talk at some other poor unsuspecting girl and leave me the hell alone.

Wrong.

I got a message from him on Facebook, along the lines of ‘I really miss you and I want you back.’

BOLLOCKS.

I basically told him to get over it, find someone else, delete my number, move on, I’d found someone else, and I actually said “It’s not happening”. He kept messaging me. I blocked him.

He must get the message by now, surely…I’ve told him in no uncertain terms is it EVER going to happen. Ever. And then I blocked him to drive the point home.

Wrong.

He messaged me on the dating site where we first ‘met’ TWO MONTHS after I dumped him. We have now been ‘broken up’ longer than we were together. It was a long and emo, possibly drunken (but I’m not convinced) message about how I was the best thing that ever happened to him and that again, he wants me back.

This guy is like Michael fucking Myers. No matter how hard you shoot the bastard down, stab him in the heart, douse him in petrol and flick a match at the sadistic twat he keeps coming right at you. He slinks away when you’re not looking only to appear 5 minutes later from a fucking cupboard wielding the giant ass carving knife you rammed into his heart…

I didn’t respond. It doesn’t matter how I respond. What the fuck else can I say? I’ve given him plenty of reasons, the main one being ‘I don’t want to’ and I’ve found about 50 ways to say ‘…er. Thanks…but fuck off now yeah?’ I could not have been any more clear.

This has gone beyond desperate to mental illness now. This is personality disorder type shit I’m dealing with here. This is freaking me out. This nutter knows where I live, knows the car I drive, knows where I work and clearly doesn’t give a fuck about consent.

It’s been a couple of weeks and after blocking him on the dating site I haven’t heard anything, but I’m not entirely sure that I’ve heard the last from him.

I’m just waiting for him to appear in the back of my car wearing a William Shatner mask.

“Why can’t we give it another go?”

The Good, Clean Version of the Truth

The fun personality I put across when I first meet people could be seen as false; it’s attractive and charming, witty and clever, but its upkeep takes effort. Is this the fault of being an introvert, or is this what everyone goes through? It’s not like the façade is a lie, the façade is me, I have the thoughts, feelings and attitude that I project; some thoughts I decide to reserve and have a giggle to myself when something pops into my brain that I’m not sure the other person would appreciate. Which is, frankly, usually something perverse… I remember being in a lift with a co-worker that I have fun flirting with occasionally; I was going bright red and biting my lip as there was an awkward silence and all I could think to say were euphemisms about ‘going down’ – that would’ve taken the playful flirting to a whole new level (badaboom tssh). However, if I’m truly being myself, why is it so exhausting?

I wasn’t always charming, witty and adept at conversation. It’s a skill that has taken a long time to learn, with great thanks to my best friend for helping me to open up and show me how to drag the intimate answers out of people that they certainly wouldn’t have brought up had she not asked with such aplomb. Often people would explode with laughter at her directness in actually asking the question that nobody else had the balls to ask, then answer her with as much honesty as they could provide – talk about skill!

I was terse, monosyllabic and made no bones that I was a miserable misanthrope and conversation was not interesting to me; I was a goth after all, I had a reputation to uphold. Even my best girl took a long time to break me down and get me talking, despite her skill. The fact she carried on trying, succeeded and still considers me good enough to keep around, I am endlessly thankful for.

Perhaps it’s much like anyone else. The façade is a good, clean version of the truth. It’s the editing that’s the exhausting part, the cold-reading of the person I’m talking to. What’s working, what isn’t, what should I say about this, what should I leave out? Is that too risqué? Hmm, he didn’t seem impressed by my repartee about size being important…Quick! Change the topic! Telling him I have a thing for men in heels probably wouldn’t really be appropriate, would it?

One might suppose therefore that the more exhausting a conversation, the less comfortable I feel. The more editing that has to be done, the more awareness I have to ensure. With people I feel more comfortable with, I don’t really need to edit; they know who I am and my humour, they know how to take it which can be a stumbling block for people. However that comfort only comes with familiarity; when meeting new people you always have to work them out, and edit yourself to a certain extent.

It’s exciting and enthralling meeting new people, and I think I’ve learned to sell myself, which is what you do when you someone new and shiny, isn’t it? I would never have attempted to sell myself before, I figured people could accept me for who I am, misanthropy, eyeliner, fishnets and all, or screw them. But it makes life much easier when you have the choice to sell yourself, or even the opposite if being in a tragic accident involving 3 clowns, a leprechaun and Ted Bundy is more appealing than going on another date with this guy who makes Charlie Manson look like quite the catch.

Being Emotionally Manipulated: 101

If you’ve never been manipulated, you’re a very lucky person. Or oblivious. I’ve had several experiences of being manipulated, from a few different people. I’m a smart girl, I’m sure plenty of victims of manipulation are, so how the hell did it happen?

It’s pretty complicated, and yet so simple…

So, I’d known this guy for a long time. He had moved away, so we chatted online until circumstances brought him back home, to his parents. This is when things started to go downhill.

Sad thing is, he’s a nice guy. He’s an absolute charmer – aren’t all those pesky manipulators though? He’s confident to the point of arrogance, he’s ‘deep’, thoughtful, ridiculously intelligent and seems to have it all worked out. Somehow though, he’s also a massive, walking fuck up. This, to me, is an important part of the manipulation. He has so much potential, he just needs some nurturing and pointing in the right direction…right…

What I failed to realise is that he isn’t as much of a fuck up as he would’ve had me believe. He has all the skills he needs to get what we’re expected to want from life; a job we like, an income, supporting ourselves and society. It became more and more clear throughout the few weeks he imposed himself upon me, that he could get any of that, but he didn’t want it. He wanted the care-free life that many of us crave but aren’t sociopathic enough to get.

He was also an alcoholic, part of the fuck-uppery; it did exacerbate the manipulation, but it wasn’t the cause. I thought it was at the time, but thinking back, no, it was there before. He saw the nurturing side of me and used this alcoholism as a reason for me to look after him, and I put myself out much further than I would if he didn’t have this problem.

“I have nowhere else to go” was often his greeting at 11pm. “My dad would kill me if he saw me like this”, he would say, reeking of Special Brew and looking like he hadn‘t showered for a few days. I would agree, and in he would come, often keeping me up until well into the morning, past dawn, talking and listening to the same songs on you tube. Iggy Pop was a regular. His wide-eyed insanity and lack of inhibitions related to a cocktail of various psychotropic substances seemed to be something to be admired. Kansas’ ‘Carry On My Wayward Son’ was outright banned, I simply couldn’t take it any more. Usually, he passed out drunk and I would then be too worried to sleep, often curling up in my chair next to the sofa where his comatose body lay, periodically checking that he was still breathing.

I enjoyed his company. I live on my own and despite being an introvert, I love having people to talk to, especially people that I don’t have to pretend around; I didn’t think I had to pretend around him. He was excellent at flattery and at first, my confidence sky-rocketed with him around. He would compliment my style, my strength as a person and my overall personality. He didn’t like a lot of people, but he loved spending time with me, because I was ‘Interesting’.

Nothing unpredictable really happens in my life either, and he brought that element of chaos; going for a walk and chat down the beach at 2am rather than going to bed and to sleep like a normal person generally does. Showing up on my doorstep at random times, making me alcoholic-by-proxy, having drunken rants and ridiculous conversations; he brought out my wild side, and I loved it. Until it started to affect my life, my real life.

He promised to make up for his fuck uppery, he’d take me rock climbing, take me out for a meal, he hoped that I was paying attention to how much he owed me, that he would pay me back, every penny. The promises became less and less; the meal wound up being a couple of bottles of wine and his company for an evening, and yet that was still too much. It was clear after a while he never had any intention of repaying my hospitality either financially or even by offering a solid friendship any more.

I’m not sure if he started to get lazy or I worked out that I was being manipulated, maybe a combination of both, but the end of the ‘friendship’ came after he didn’t bother showing up one day. We had previous talks about how this made me feel worthless; if you can’t make plans with someone, at least make a phone call, send a text, e-mail, face book message…communication isn’t exactly hard these days. But it carried on. We would make plans, he wouldn’t bother contacting me and wouldn’t bother showing up. The last straw for me was when this happened one day, I was beyond pissed, and I heard nothing from him. Until I sent him a message wishing him a happy birthday four days later. No apology, but contact was made. I asked him to make it up to me. He was far too busy, naturally.

It was at this point I think it fully dawned on me; I had my inklings that I was being manipulated before but whether I was having too much fun to care, or I was lonely, or I just didn’t want to accept it; I’m not sure. Possibly a fatal combination of all three, and a few more I haven’t thought of.

Some of the last words I said to him were along the lines of, if this situation was happening to a friend, I’d tell them to drop the dickhead, he is no friend. What kind of person takes you for all your worth and can’t even be arsed to pick up the phone if you can’t make it the half mile to see them? After all I’d done for him, the stress, the worry, the sleepless nights…

He didn’t take it well. The power he had in this relationship was over once I took control and said I wasn’t standing for it any more. It was an invigorating feeling, wrestling that power away from him. If you find yourself in the same situation, trust me, it might be heart wrenching at first; they sure as hell don’t make it easy for you. Why would they? You’re a metaphorical goldmine. But do it, the relief you feel once you’ve realised you’ve rid yourself of a sociopathic vampire is indescribable and more empowering than you could really believe.

I still half expect him to call me at 2am when he has ‘nowhere else to go’ or ‘needs a true friend’, but that bridge is well and truly burned. I know his true face now, you can’t unsee that level of disregard for your well-being, emotions and self worth.

Hey! Fancy a Fuck?

I don’t know if I’m surprised or not. I mean, dating sites are easy ways to hook up aren’t they? But does any girl ever actually put out because a guy showed the slightest bit of interest and said ‘Hey’.

They always seem really surprised when I don’t literally fall to my knees, thankful for the attention and go get it on with a stranger that has literally said 5 words to me before insinuating a hook up, one would assume in the privacy of one of our homes, or perhaps they were thinking somewhere classy like a car park in the back of their old style corsa?

You meet a guy on the internet, a place where we all know is full of the insane, some in a nice way, some slightly more psychotic, many just plainly awkward, oblivious and/or slightly fucked up (raises hand). You barely exchange pleasantries let alone anything else, and invite them over to your place for a bit of action?

There was an article in the local papers recently about an ex-nurse who attempted to meet a girl off the internet. Fine, great, no big deal. He was intending to cannibalise her. He told her so, apparently. Strange she never showed, but the police did…

So, I’m more confident now than I ever have been I know my worth, it takes a little more than ‘Hey (babe/gorgeous/sexy..etc)’ to get me to throw caution out the window and drop my pants. Not much more, admittedly, we’ve all made drunken mistakes. But usually it takes attraction, rapport, humour, feeling safe/comfortable and/or a shitload of alcohol. ‘Hey babe’ just doesn’t really cut it, and I can’t see it ever will (but, never say never, right?).

There was one guy who I would normally have veered away from. Copied and pasted witty one liner opening – I figured he put in a little effort at least. After a couple of messages of witty banter and an explanation from him that he just wanted a bit of fun (meh, at least he was honest), he proceeded to send me pictures of his junk. Then ridiculed me when I refused to send photos of mine. Apparently that makes me ‘no fun’ and ‘boring’. Insults are always the best way to win a girl over apparently.

Being a fan of lectures these days, I gave him the honour of an education. Had this worked well for him before? No? Shocker. Here’s why not. I’m not just a vagina, fuckwit! His answer was ‘But I just wanted a bit of fun!’. Great, me too! Except I prefer to be viewed as a human being with a personality rather than literally a hole that’s a goal. Bless him *rolls eyes* He was educated in grammar school too. My grammar school. Standards have clearly slipped.

 

Bitches Be Crazy? My Fine Ass! The Aftermath.

I wish I could say I didn’t give a shit. I wish I could say for absolute certain that this guy was messing me around and I definitely did the right thing. I wish I could say I knew this guy is a manipulative fuckwit, but I think it’s entirely possible he was just totally oblivious.

Honestly, I think the whole thing was a total clusterfuck. There was too much, too soon – too much intimacy, too much expectation. When something starts with that much intensity, you expect it to carry on.

I don’t really blame myself; you meet someone you like so much, someone with that much potential, someone who ticks every box, someone you’re ridiculously compatable with… you get swept up in it all. I’m just hideously disappointed that it didn’t work out, and it won’t work out. Once you get the label of insane, that’s it, it’s done. You’re a write off.

It feels like I’d just found out I had won the lottery, I was just about to get handed a cheque for £12million, and the wind ripped it out of my grasp and carried away the idea of my exciting new life.

As silly as it might sound, I’m grieving. I’m not grieving the loss of the relationship, there was no relationship, but there was the potential for one. A lot of potential. I had real hope that this would be it, I don’t have to trawl dating sites any more, that I could have someone to share my life with and give my ridiculous amount of affection to. My hope has been shattered, and it’s taken a lot of me with it. Right now, I’m paralysed with a lack of motivation. All I want to do is sit on the sofa, smoking too much and wallowing in self-pity. I know I should get back out there, but I don’t feel ready. It feels like a break up, and I’m still hung up on the guy. Or the idea of the guy…

The kicker? About an hour after we called it quits on our…whatever it was, I got a text. Why is it all the bastards get the girls and he, a nice guy, winds up on the sidelines? I responded with no hard feelings. I explained where it all went wrong with us. It was pretty clear; I think going from that much intensity, attention and a strong implication that this will wind up being a good relationship with a guy I could be really crazy about, and that he could be absolutely crazy about me, to absolutely nothing; no contact, indifference, forgetfulness, would bring crippling insecurity and anxiety in even the most self-assured women, I think. Am I wrong?

In his eyes, I over-reacted. I think I agree, from his perspective anyway. I forget that men don’t do hints, no matter how hard you batter them around the head with it. In order to feel secure, I needed him to make the effort of planning another date with me. I thought I made that clear, but apparently not – by the end of our argument, I still don’t think he understood why I decided to end it.

I made a lot of mistakes, but I’m not blaming myelf here. I’m not blaming him either. We both had a major part in constructing the intensity and expectation. I allowed myself to trust in it and got carried away, but you do that when you think you’re on the same page with someone. I may not have been clear enough about my need for contact from him.

But I do blame him for not taking any responsibility. I take my share of the responsiblity, the end of this non-relationship is down to both of us. I might have, after his continual references to women being crazy, sent him a 6 text lecture about taking responsibility for his behaviour. You behave like a disinterested, manipulative bastard, you’ll get treated like a disinterested, manipulative bastard and it’s no real surprise that women will be pissed at you for behaving that way, for peaking their interest, allowing them to feel safe, and then eventually for making them feel like a mug for believing the hype. That’s not women being insane, that’s women feeling duped.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bitches Be Crazy? My Fine Ass! Part 2

Here’s Bitches Be Crazy? My Fine Ass! Part 1

“Look, be straight with me here. Do you want to see me again? I’m guessing not…”

I’ve been messed around before. Numerous times. I know the drill by now. Guys promise you the world to get what they want. They keep you hooked, pay you just enough attention to keep you thinking they’re into you, but they’re non committal. You don’t hear from them when they’re thinking of you, because they’re not thinking of you. You hear from them when they’re bored and they want more. They don’t make plans in advance; if they do, they flake on you if they can’t be bothered with the hassle or if they have a better offer. They often don’t bother to let you know. Forgive me for fearing the worst when this is classic manipulator behaviour.

He got offended when I asked. Sha. Right. As if he didn’t want to see me again! Because not getting in contact, FORGETTING OUR DATE and No Plans Made to see me again is entirely the behaviour of a man desperate to see me.

I left it open for him to make plans with me, giving him the benefit of the doubt. I trusted him on Sunday when he said it wasn’t casual, all that intimacy and affection has to mean something, doesn’t it? I hope so…

I couldn’t get some very important words out of my head, though.

“If he doesn’t talk to you, He’s Just Not That Into You.”

“If he forgets about spending time with you, He’s Just Not That Into You.” 

 

I made sure I kept myself busy on Saturday. I couldn’t sit at home and mull it over any more. I went to the gym, I had a free tango class (awesome!) and I had work. I didn’t hear from him Saturday either. I can’t say I expected to…I thought I’d give it another shot though; inspired by tango class I checked out local dance classes; a salsa class was happening on his day off, so I asked him if he was free that day.

No. No, he’s going to London for 3 days including the day I specified. There’s some news! This is brand new information! I’m frustrated and annoyed he didn’t bother telling me about this nugget when I suggested he make some plans to see me. The benefit of the doubt is wearing thin now, but I think fine, OK., find out when he’s free, we’ll go from there.

 

“Not sure when I’m free next…will let you know…”

 

Stunned somewhat, and yet not quite surprised, I decide enough is enough. I’m being well and truly blown off. So, I tell him.

“Dude. Whatever. I’m Done.”

And he’s pissed. He’s really, really pissed. He misses the point. He thinks I don’t believe he was working. Then he thinks I’m blaming him for having to cover a shift which was a problem for our forgotten plans that night. Then he can’t comprehend why I don’t understand him forgetting our date, as I should know what it’s like, having a terrible memory myself. Forgetting, yeah it’s a big deal, but I don’t think that was the most upsetting part. I don’t know about other people, but when I forget something like hanging out with someone, especially someone that I like to be with, I’m embarrassed, frustrated and angry with myself, I apologise profusely and I promise to make it up to them, and I do make it up to them. None of that happened…

Actions speak louder than words, I tell him. All I’ve had in the past week is blow-off behaviour and no contact. I can’t be wasting my time dealing with a guy who can’t or won’t see me. I can have the same effect; being alone, by myself without the stress.

He gives some explanation, and I begin to melt a little. Maybe I was wrong? He’s really upset that I didn’t believe his intentions were as he said on Sunday, that he really liked me, that he really wanted to see me again. I explain my rationale; he didn’t get in contact, he hasn’t made plans with me, and he forgot our date and every time I suggest for him to make plans with me, or attempt to make plans with him, it’s blow off behaviour without explanation. No “I’m so sorry baby, I’m really packed this week, can we make it next week?” No “This sucks, but my rota is going to be unpredictable when I come back from London, how’s next week instead?” This, to me, means I’m being messed around. I tried, and succeeded, I think, to be reasonable and rational throughout the argument, but he wouldn’t have any of it. I’m “way over-reacting”. It all ends the same way, doesn’t it? The only explanation…

                                                                  “Women are fucking insane!”

So, here we have a week in the life of a sane, rational twenty-something girl who was on the verge of psychosis. All it takes is your words and body to say one thing, and your behaviour to say something completely different.

Bitches Be Crazy? My Fine Ass! Part 1.

The last couple of posts (here and here) concerned a guy I’ve been dating, and trying to figure out if he wanted to pursue something potentially serious, or just a casual thing. Turns out he wanted something a little more serious! Sorted! Excitement!

After a night of constant touching, hugging, flirting, making out and…the rest, his last words on 8.30am Monday were;

“I’ll text you about [planning our date] Saturday.”

Awesome! So much awesome. I’m so damn pleased with myself I think I’m going to explode in a fit of happy.

The rest of the day Monday and I don’t hear from him, I’m not too worried. He worked a long double shift, we had just seen each other, all good.

Tuesday rolls by and nothing. Hm. OK. I figured I’d get a text by now. Nothing major just something like “Hey gorgeous, how you doing? Was great seeing you the other day xxx”, but, nevermind. Still early days and again he was working late, not too big a deal.

Wednesday goes by and I’m wondering what’s up. Still no text, no fb message…has he changed his mind? Has he freaked out? Has he found someone else? He gets in from work and appears on facebook chat, so I message him. He says;

“Sup hun”

Oh. Fuck. Prior to this conversation it was “Hey gorgeous!” – you know, excitement and flattery, this seemed more ‘Oh, it’s you’. But OK, may be over-analysing a little…

We have a general chit chat about our days. It doesn’t go as I’d hoped. No flirting, no real conversation…I dropped a few ego massagers for him, but nothing returned for me. I decided to call it quits with;

“Time for bed. Kinda wish you were here. You give good hugs!”

I expected a number of responses from;

“I’ll be right over!”

“So do you! And the other stuff too ;)” 

“Aw sweetie, you can have as many hugs as you want on Saturday!”

I did not expect;

“Hahaha 🙂 Night xxx”

Wtf…WTF?! *deep breath* OK, OK. Trying to reason here; it was late, he was tired. DO NOT OVER-ANALYSE!

Thursday. No text. No fb message. Nothing.

Friday, I’m half expecting a message;

“So, about Saturday…Something came up, sozzle x :)”

Even that didn’t come. I’m going a little mental by this point. Why. The Fuck. Hasn’t He Text Me?

After consultation with (many) friends, I text him.

“Hey, still on for tomorrow? x” 

I get a response, at least. He forgot. He might be working. He’ll find out tomorrow. Doesn’t say he’ll let me know. No apologies. No attempt to rearrange. Cannot. Believe. This. Shit.

I have a terrible memory too, but I’ve been so excited about seeing him again, I can barely think of anything else, and…he forgot?

After a to and fro over text, and No Plans Made, I ask what any rational and completely sane person would ask of the guy who didn’t want a casual thing, but didn’t get in contact, FORGOT OUR DATE and hasn’t attempted to rearrange…

“Look, be straight with me here. Do you want to see me again? I’m guessing not…”

Part 2 is here.

 

 

Asking What It Is, Isn’t the Same as Asking What It Isn’t

In my last post I was agonising over what may or may not happen with a guy I had a date with. It’s agonising because you deserve to know where you stand, but you don’t want to put pressure onto a very new, very fragile relationship.

In the end, I wound up going down my usual route and asking him straight up whether he was after something ‘casual’ with me. At this point I thought I knew the answer already. But I’ve thought that before, and I was wrong before.

On our second meeting the affection was easier and more forthcoming than ever. He educated me in the music of Lonely Island, Steel Panther and a band whose name I can’t remember, and if I could, I wouldn’t be able to spell it. We agreed I, Frankenstein was a terrible film. He expressed apparently genuine concern when my back was aching. But most of all, he had agreed to see me again after I had thrown up in front of him, cosied up with him in the most appallingly boxy, cutesy nightdress and after I passed out on him (literally on him) on our first date. I know I would‘ve ‘lost‘ his number after just one of these social faux pas. So when he asked me what was on my mind, I just came out with it;

“I’m trying to figure out how to say this without sounding like a tit…this isn’t a friends with benefits arrangement, is it?”

There were clues on my part that I didn’t want it to be, of course. I’m not a robot, I was tired and my brain was whizzing at about a hundred miles an hour about the implications of the question I was trying to ask, and about the potential fallout if I didn’t get the answer I was hoping for.

However, I feel this was about the best way I could have done it. It’s difficult for me, living with uncertainty. I’m not a very patient person; I want answers and I want them now! I don’t think it’s fair to have to play it cool and wait for someone to let you know their intentions. Who knows how long that could take and how invested you could get over a casual affair? It also didn’t put pressure on him to actually define the relationship, as it would if I had said something like;

“Where do you see this going?” or “So are we a couple or what?”

I didn’t need him to say ‘I want to have your babies’, because that would be weird. I just wanted some clarification that he’s on the same page as I am; I think we’re compatible, we have similar interests, we share a sense of humour, we find each other damn sexy and I think we could, if things continue as well as they are, have a pretty good relationship.

Soddinl: “…this isn’t a friends with benefits arrangement, is it?”

Date: “I hope not!”

So, I think I’ve managed to get the uncertainty cleared up without coming off like a bunny boiler, and now I can enjoy the excitement and butterflies of hanging out with someone I really like!

 

Good Dates are More Terrifying Than Bad Dates

This time round I’ve only been dating a few months. I’ve had my share of bad dates and some that were ultimately forgettable.

Chances are, unless you’re dating someone completely oblivious, your date will know that you are not a good match, that you won’t be contacting them again and often, you can get away without outright rejecting each other with that awkward conversation at the end of the night, or the next day.

Needless to say, I have had a couple of dates who did seem completely oblivious, and the conversation had to be done, which is a blog post in itself…

This past weekend though, I had the much sought after good date. There wasn’t a moment of silence past the initial slightly awkward walk to the bar, not quite knowing what to say to each other and trying to stick to small talk, which I admit, I utterly suck at. We had a similar sense of humour and laughed all night, he was a gentleman and offered to buy all the rounds. I did manage to convince him that I should buy at least one though. I got good vibes from the guy and felt ridiculously comfortable in the presence of this stranger which for me, is a big deal.

Physical intimacy can be quite difficult for me with people; not sex, but hugs, caresses, invasions of personal space; I‘m generally pretty reserved. By the end of the night I was draped over his shoulder. Had we not taken it back to my place, onlookers would’ve been thinking ‘Jesus, get a room!’. He was equally affectionate, and very complimentary despite my messy, alcohol addled state.

The days after were terrifying. They still are even though we’ve arranged to hang out again already. When I like someone, I jump in with both feet, and if they don’t like me, or if they do like me but don’t want the same things I want, there’s no bones about it, I get hurt. A lot. This post resonated a lot with me today.

I do know my worth, and I won’t be settling if this guy doesn’t want what I would like with him. I already have a way of sorting out my physical needs, I want someone to help me with my emotional needs; a good guy to hang out and have fun with, laugh with each other, share experiences with, travel with and be a shoulder to cry on during the utterly shitty days where you just might not survive without a hug.

It can be complicated though, working out what the guy wants. A straight up conversation about it is a bit scary, possibly bunny boiler-esque, especially this early on. But I need to know what he’s hoping to get out of this, so I don’t get any more invested than I already am…

I’ve learned, through my dating experience, actions speak louder than words. It’s easy to get caught up in flattery and easy intimacy, then be dumbfounded when the words were just lip service. But I’m going to try my best at chilling out and going with the flow, as anti-me as that is.

Edit: There’s an update right here!