Yeah, We're Dating
Oh look here we are again. I'm going to start this off with the most common 'what the fuck' topic which is a fun thing I like to call dating. Everyone that knows me, or really me and only me, knows that I have no clue how to goddamn date. I don't understand it, I'm really not quite sure I ever will and I seem to keep being attracted to small, well-dressed men that always for the love of god turn out to be gay. My mom still to this day will pick out a gay man in a group and go "oh I bet you're attracted to that one." And every single time I avoid eye contact with her and try and find a disturbingly obviously straight man that's standing with a stick up his ass and clearly spent 45 minutes too long putting gel in his hair and cuffing his pant leg to the quarter inch where just enough ankle was showing. Oh shit, I am attracted to gay men. God I'm worse at dating than I thought. Well, I was originally here to share my straight stories and now I'm contemplating if there's something else I'm not mentally dealing with.
Anywho, my most recent story about dating is ironically the first actual date I've ever been on. In college I was in a relationship for 2 years, and broke up because he cheated on me (not with a guy though, so I took it as a small win). We worked together and nearly lived together and I was never taken on an actual date, you know where you get dressed up and pick 14 outfits that you throw across the room cuz "they just DON'T LOOK RIGHT." And then have that mental breakdown that you're going to be alone forever and look at the clock and realize you have 12 minutes to pull your shit together and put your game face on because you're meeting your husband tonight and he has no idea what the hell he signed up for. Yeah, that was the kind of date I had never been on- where you're meeting someone, you're nervous, it might go somewhere and you're genuinely excited for the future. Well, thank god no one told me the future cuz I was about to be sorely disappointed in the entire male species for about as long as he pretended to give a shit about me. Aggressive I know, but we're here to win ladies.
So this date starts out pretty well. And by pretty well I mean he didn't run the second he saw my face so I was thinking I was in it to win it. He ended up bringing me flowers and buying me dinner and the whole deal. We sat and talked for a couple hours and he eventually asked if I wanted to come over. Mind you, I don't do one night stands, and I definitely don't do one night stands without alcohol. So naturally my dumb sober ass says yes and I'm now in his apartment at 1am making out with a man that's 11 years older than me trying to understand if this was what people called 'dating.' Still unsure of how my life choices got me there but ended up getting out of there without getting murdered and without an STD. For the record I never slept with him, which brings me to my main point- I asked him on a second date. We had been talking for a week or two and mentioned hanging out again as we both genuinely enjoyed each other's company and I had never been on a date with someone so sweet. Apparently I forgot the godforsaken fact I had never been on a date EVER and I had absolutely no basis for judgement. So I texted him, as us degenerate millennials do, and asked him on a second date the next day.
This motherfucker never fucking responded. I waited 6 days of contemplating if I was the ugliest human on earth, if I should've just slept with him, or if he in fact DIED and I just hadn't seen the news story about it yet. So obviously my confrontational, mildly egotistical and pissed off self texts him to see if he was still breathing or if he needed some fucking assistance on how to hit the reply button. Turns out, he's alive and well and I apparently needed extra confirmation that yes, I was ghosted and no, I am not special. In case my ego needed a little extra punch to the gut we ended the conversation with "I'll see you around" because yes. We do have the same friend group. And I hate myself. God I just love dating so much why didn't I start this bullshit earlier.
Anywho, my most recent story about dating is ironically the first actual date I've ever been on. In college I was in a relationship for 2 years, and broke up because he cheated on me (not with a guy though, so I took it as a small win). We worked together and nearly lived together and I was never taken on an actual date, you know where you get dressed up and pick 14 outfits that you throw across the room cuz "they just DON'T LOOK RIGHT." And then have that mental breakdown that you're going to be alone forever and look at the clock and realize you have 12 minutes to pull your shit together and put your game face on because you're meeting your husband tonight and he has no idea what the hell he signed up for. Yeah, that was the kind of date I had never been on- where you're meeting someone, you're nervous, it might go somewhere and you're genuinely excited for the future. Well, thank god no one told me the future cuz I was about to be sorely disappointed in the entire male species for about as long as he pretended to give a shit about me. Aggressive I know, but we're here to win ladies.
So this date starts out pretty well. And by pretty well I mean he didn't run the second he saw my face so I was thinking I was in it to win it. He ended up bringing me flowers and buying me dinner and the whole deal. We sat and talked for a couple hours and he eventually asked if I wanted to come over. Mind you, I don't do one night stands, and I definitely don't do one night stands without alcohol. So naturally my dumb sober ass says yes and I'm now in his apartment at 1am making out with a man that's 11 years older than me trying to understand if this was what people called 'dating.' Still unsure of how my life choices got me there but ended up getting out of there without getting murdered and without an STD. For the record I never slept with him, which brings me to my main point- I asked him on a second date. We had been talking for a week or two and mentioned hanging out again as we both genuinely enjoyed each other's company and I had never been on a date with someone so sweet. Apparently I forgot the godforsaken fact I had never been on a date EVER and I had absolutely no basis for judgement. So I texted him, as us degenerate millennials do, and asked him on a second date the next day.
This motherfucker never fucking responded. I waited 6 days of contemplating if I was the ugliest human on earth, if I should've just slept with him, or if he in fact DIED and I just hadn't seen the news story about it yet. So obviously my confrontational, mildly egotistical and pissed off self texts him to see if he was still breathing or if he needed some fucking assistance on how to hit the reply button. Turns out, he's alive and well and I apparently needed extra confirmation that yes, I was ghosted and no, I am not special. In case my ego needed a little extra punch to the gut we ended the conversation with "I'll see you around" because yes. We do have the same friend group. And I hate myself. God I just love dating so much why didn't I start this bullshit earlier.
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