Tag Archives: Dating Horror Stories

REJECTION – Y U NO WORK??!

How is it best to reject somone? It’s been likened to taking the plaster off a wound before; rip it off quickly and the initial sting is quick and fades quickly, or peel it off slowly, each hair follicle being torn out individually. The sensation lingers longer perhaps, but it’s less of a shock with each prick of tingly pain.

Until fairly recently, I haven’t had to reject anyone really. The guys took the burden upon themselves to reject me for the most part, so it’s been a bit odd that I’ve had to dive in at the deep end with rejecting dates for a variety of reasons; we just didn’t click, I didn’t fancy him, he had the personality of a loaf of bread…among a few reasons.

I’ve attempted to reject guys both ways, figuring it’s something that should be worked out on a case-by-case basis.

I figure if you’ve been out with someone on more then 2 dates in a brief space of time, the slow fade is a bit mean, but one date? Meh. Sporadic e-mail contact before or after a date? Meh.

I’m not here to debate the morals and ethics of each mode of rejection though, I wanted to share with you the efficacy. Straight up telling the guy “you’re clearly a good bloke but I’m really not that into you” (in a nicer, more fluffy way of course) should be the end of it, really. You don’t feel the thing, time to move on with no hard feelings, end of. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn’t.

Remember this guy? There was another who, despite it being pretty obvious I wasn’t into him, decided to be petty, passive aggressive and whiney when I told him I didn’t see us going anywhere (not surprisingly, one of the 23 year olds).

The other route is equally flawed. I have slow burned a few, and to be honest, it has a better success rate. It’s not foolproof, but most guys send a couple of texts or emails, they don’t get a response and they move on. Magic!

The reason I decided to write this post now though, is a slow burn is currently epically failing. I had a date with a guy, my needs were not met and his were. Typical. We e-mailed back and forth a bit, we both failed to respond to e-mails within a decent time frame and quite frankly, I couldn’t be arsed to carry on. Geographically, there’s a pretty large wedge between us as well as the rest of the gubbins I didn’t particularly want to deal with.

I stopped responding to his e-mails. I got a couple from him; ‘hey how you doing, lets catch up, blah blah‘, which you expect using this method. Except, this carried on much longer than it usually does. Much longer. Months longer.

Then I finally recieve the email that indicates he’s cottoned on, at last, but of course rather than sucking it up and moving on, he employs the ‘I’m going to manipulate you into writing back to me by expressing my concern that you’re ill/injured/dead in a ditch somewhere‘ technique. Which fails. He drops in the old ‘unless you just don’t want to talk to me 😉 lol!‘ and adds the bonus manipulator of ‘if you don’t, just say so!‘ because that’s just another way to open up a dialogue, which I don’t want. So I don’t respond to that either.

He keeps this up for a good few e-mails over a few weeks. I feel I should point out, he’s e-mailing me more now than he did when we were having an actual e-mail conversation. Hooray for extinction bursts!

He then sends me a text with the same ‘concern’, before reverting back to e-mail, dropping the ‘dead in a ditch‘ technique and carrying on with the ‘hey how are you, lets catch up‘ stuff. It’s never ending. He’s not giving up.

I don’t feel bad for him. It’s been made clear in previous e-mails he really isn’t all that concerned about my welfare, which is part of the reason I stopped responding. It makes it all the more ironic that he expresses his ‘concern’ that I’m not responding is because of something more drastic than just not wanting to talk to him any more.

For now, I’m keeping up the ignoring; if I responded, even negatively, negative attention is still attention – I don’t think he would be deterred. I could block his e-mail address, but I’m (morbidly) curious as to how long he’s going to keep trying…

I’m happy to take bets in the comments.

23 is NOT the Magic Number

When I first started the whole internet dating malarkey this time around, I thought ‘I might be a little closer to 30 than 20 these days, but fuck it, I can still hang with young ‘uns‘.

Staunchly ignoring the fact that I call 20-25 year olds ‘young ‘uns’ in my mental dialogue, I truly believed that to be the case.

Wrong.

So very, alarmingly wrong.

My first date was with a whippsersnapper of 23. He was gainfully employed, had a degree, we had a good banter over t’internet so I had no reservations meeting up with him for a date.

To be fair, it wasn’t exactly a horror story. At first anyway…the real horror here is suddenly realising, fuck. I’ve gotten old. How the fuck did that happen? When the fuck did that happen?! I was truly and utterly convinced my mental age was 23 and here, on this date, the catatonic coma inducing realisation that actually, no, I do not have the mental age of a 23 year old.

Thankfully, apparently I still look like a 23 year old….sometimes. I thank the people who ID me for fags these days. (It’s dawned on me that is NOT how a 23 year old behaves when being IDed. Next time I might pretend I’ve left my driving license at home and skulk off with an exasperated Kevin-like flair. I hope there’s a next time anyway…)

The kid was nice enough I suppose, but he was a puppy. Overly enthusiastic, pawing for reassurance and basically just trying to impress too much.

I’m not the most confident of people, but as I’ve apparently matured (sob!), I’ve grown into myself. I pretty much know who I am, know what I like and know that I definitely can’t be arsed wasting time with people who I don’t like or who don’t like me so I’m pretty much myself, or at least a Good, Clean Version thereof. I don’t consciously set out to impress, and honestly, I think that’s an attractive quality. It’s a quality I like to see in the men I date at any rate.

I wasn’t entirely put off though. Apparently I’m quite a hit with the young lads, especially 23 year olds (about 4 different 23 year olds contacted me! Get me and my fiiiiine self!) so I thought it would be best to just make sure the younger option was not entirely full of puppies.

The second one appeared more mature on the surface but there were some glaring indicators of inexperience. We met for ‘coffee’, not particularly wanting to be stuck on a night out with another immature youngster. When I bought my own drink, and the chocolate brownie we shared (no offer to even split the cost of the brownie), conversation was incredibly stunted. I had to work my arse off to try and find something he would talk about. He asked no questions leaving the conversation ball entirely in my court. Sigh. I left after an hour, but the level of conversation we did have was ‘mature’ and somewhat intellectual…by my gauge anyway, probably not by the majority of others’, ha!

After our date I was considering going on another date with the guy, until…well, until he started clumsily and overtly flirting with me, before I even confirmed I wanted to see him again. Honestly, it felt a bit uncomfortable – I don’t remember exactly what was said, but it started off with nice compliments which I appreciated but essentially brushed off, and they became more and more sexual without indication that I would be interested in anything of the sort.

I gave up on that guy and added Rule 6 to My Internet Dating Survival Guide: Don’t date boys under 25 years old. They don’t have a clue how to handle me.

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?”