So I’ve gotten back on the horse, so to speak. Well maybe not back on, but I have been inching my way onto the saddle. After taking a couple of months off of dating, or rather attempted dating, I am giving the whole “hunt for my future husband” (hahaha, who are we kidding, more like the guy who I can hang out with, sleep with, and order in take-out with on a somewhat consistent basis) another try. I guess you can say that things are going slightly better this time around, if by better you mean that I have a few new phone numbers in my phone. However, as with most things in life, the more things change, the more they stay the same.
So let’s assume for a moment that you’re a dude. And let’s assume that you are currently on several online dating websites and apps. Now let’s take a real leap of faith and assume that you are actually looking for a relationship, and not just to get laid...crazy, I know.
How’s that been going for you?
For some men, online dating is like a virtual mall of pretty women who they can put into their shopping carts while they decide whether or not they want to buy them. Those men have an easy time finding women who will interact with them and who will actually meet them in person. Whether or not those men are totally sincere or complete dicks is to be determined, but the reality is, when it comes to sealing the deal (whether that meets getting a phone number, a date, a relationship, or just getting laid), they are successful. So why aren’t you?
As my love sabbatical reaches its final weeks, I’ve had some time to ponder about why I despise online dating as much as I do. For one thing, I find the whole idea to be completely unnatural, but that’s probably because in my mind it’s still 1995 and my see-through pager clipped onto my waistband is my most technologically advanced mode of communication. I suppose I should just accept that this is how shit works these days, but I don’t roll like that. I always want to fight the system. Basically, I’m a pain in the ass.
Even though I recently put my list of non-negotiable out into the world in the hopes that the universe would deliver me my perfect man, I have decided that while I wait for Mother Nature to do her thing, I am going to be taking a little dating hiatus, or love sabbatical, as I like to call it.
“There is something I need to tell you…..”
That was the text message that I got the day after Christmas, about 4 months after I “met” Kevin on Tinder, and a few months after he had a complete nervous breakdown.
“I have lied to you. I am married and not the person you’ve seen in my pictures. Please do not contact me again. I have blocked your number and will not see any response you might have to this message.”
Are. You. Fucking. Serious?????
Previously on Catfished – Part 1 Kevin had allegedly had a mental breakdown and had been taken to Connecticut to recover at his mother’s house.
The next morning I sat at work sick to my stomach, wondering what the fuck had just happened. Almost on cue I receive a text message. It was from Kevin’s phone, but it wasn’t Kevin. It was his sister, Jenny. She was texting to let me know that he had arrived safely at their mom’s house, and that she had taken his phone away from him because “he had been writing crazy things to his friends,” but that he had asked her to reach out to me to keep me posted and to thank me for being there for him. We had an uncomfortable brief exchange about how I knew him, and she said she that no offense, but the whole thing seemed a little weird to her. Awkward…
It’s the most wonderful time of the year…well for a lot of people at least. For some of us, not so much. As we are in the midst of the holiday season with Christmas soon approaching, most people are looking forward to spending time celebrating with their families, and perhaps reminiscing of holidays past. For me, however, this particular Christmas certainly has me reminiscing, but not about warm and fuzzy memories.
It was Christmas day last year, when the guy that I had been speaking to for the past 3 months called me up from his “mother’s” house and said a quick hello while his “nieces and nephews” were screaming in the background. I remember being really happy to have received that call considering how rough things had been the two months prior. Perhaps I should backtrack…
Two nights ago I was texting with a guy I had matched with on Tinder about a week earlier. We had been texting via the app for about 5 days and had just exchanged numbers so that we could bring our conversation offline. He seemed pretty normal so far, had a pretty good sense of humor, and had asked some general questions about my life and had checked in during the course of the week to see how my days had been going. We both mentioned that we were looking for something more serious at this point in our lives, so seemingly we were on the same page. But that night, inevitably the conversation turned sexual. Continue reading
I once spent 13 hours talking on the phone with a guy I met online. THIRTEEN HOURS! We had exchanged a few messages, then exchanged numbers, and then spent the entire night, until sunrise, telling each other our entire life stories. Conversation came so easily that the hours flew by before we even knew it. Needless to say I was pretty excited to meet him… which we were obviously going to do… because who spends 13 hours on the phone with someone and then doesn’t want to meet them? Right?? The next night we spoke for about another 6 hours – planning our first date as well as naming our future children together. We made plans to meet the following weekend. Then the night before we were supposed to meet, he sent me a text telling me that he had to leave on a “last minute business trip.” I never heard from him again. (P.S. He had the balls to check out my profile again a few months later. BALLS.)
So it’s a Saturday night, and like many other Saturday nights in the past few months, I am sitting on my couch still wearing the pajamas that I woke up in, watching my dog sit on strike next to his full food bowl, staring at me in silent protest. Not sure what his problem is, but it probably has to do with the fact that I am no fun and that he definitely did not hit the mommy lottery when he got stuck with me. Most likely he’s thinking to himself, “bitch, seriously, go take a shower already and preferably get out of the house, you loser, so I can destroy some shit up in here.” The fact that my 5-month old puppy has a more active social life than me (I mean, he has become friendly with at least 3 dogs in the neighborhood) has not gone unnoticed by either of us. Continue reading