Hidey ho! I haven’t had much to report – still talking to Batman (a post to come about this later; I think it’s time we analyze this) – but thankfully the online dating gods (or demons?) came to our blogging rescue.
You know that every once in a while I start to feel like Batman and I’s plateau is never ending. It’s seeming to be Grand Canyon-esque in it’s plateau…ness. So on one of my rare logins to OkCupid I began communicating with this guy whom we shall refer to as Señor Douche.
I don’t remember who messaged whom first, but he got my number and we started texting a bit. None of the text conversations went very far. After the “nothing much, what’s up with you today?” text, the line went pretty flat. And as a grown woman who should be pursued, after several attempts at getting together or starting a conversation, I gave up.
So I hadn’t talked to homeboy in a couple of weeks and I get a Facebook message.
I should back up and say that he asked to find me on Facebook early on. I guess he needed to properly stalk me before getting to know me…?
So for quality assurance purposes, I’m going to simply show you exactly how this conversation went with some commentary as there is no way to make you believe this conversation legitimately occurred unless you see it with your own eyes. *click the photos to enlarge*
A reminder: We’ve never had a complete conversation, via text or otherwise, before this moment. It started innocently enough.
Right away I’m perturbed. A: I’m not, at any point in the very beginning of a whatever the hell this is going to make the plans. If you want to see/meet me and have any interest in figuring out who I am beyond my witty Facebook status posts and intriguing article shares (my humility is just another selling point in my personality, by the way) then you should make a plan and then, I dont know, ask me on a date like an adult man. Because we’re grown ups, guy. B: I had already made several attempts (at least 3 obvious nudges) to make plans with Señor Douche and either got radio silence or a vague “sure, yeah, we should hang out this week” with no follow up text, suggestion, or plan. His argument that I had already cancelled and thus should make the plans was invalid because I double checked our text conversations (if you want to call them that) and we never actually made plans. What’s cut off at the end is I tried my hand at wit and said “different girl.” Well…
Thinking back on this, I can’t say with certainty that being so blunt about the clear attitude adjustment we both needed for this conversation to go smoothly. I had no stake in this game anymore – since he never took initiative, I didn’t feel the need to present that “best self” we all portray when we want someone to likes us. I immediately felt things go south when he suggested I found his consideration snarky.
Bless his heart because I can’t.
Towards the end you can see that I tried to quell the situation a little bit by suggesting we both were misinterpreting one another – which we probably were, to be honest. I even suggested we make a plan together – “we can figure out plans” – so that he would take the hint that I am not, I repeat not, going to plan our first damn date.
Understatement of the century: He didn’t get the hint.
Firstly, a man who uses the phrase “sensitive susie” is not a man I would be proud to introduce to my mother, and that was enough for me to be done and unfriend him on Facebook. His reaction to that is so outrageously disproportionate to the situation that I legitimately laughed out loud.
Secondly, I’m thankful for this encounter. It reminded me of a few things.
I remember being 8 years old. When I was in elementary school, I liked this guy named Zach Smith. He was this gorgeous third grader who I made plans to one day marry. He knew I liked him, too, because on the playground I would steal his shoes and put sand in them. Then, back in the classroom, when the teacher wasn’t looking I would push his hand while he was writing so he would have to erase his perfectly crafted cursive sentence and start over. In short, when I grew up I knew that my interactions with people of the opposite sex had to change in order for my sentiments to be reciprocated, let alone taken seriously. The problem with this guy is that he approached this conversation with the notion that the douchier he spoke to me – a grown woman with an education, morals, and common sense – the more intrigued I would be with him.
I remember the first time I talked to a girl. This reminds me of the times I would try something that I had no idea how to do, but I was sure I could do it. Like the time I wanted to get to the top of the slide at Discovery Zone when I was 6 and everyone was like, “Nah, let’s go around,” and I was all, “Psh, watch this!” Then a big kid slid into me and I broke my arm. I looked like an idiot and couldn’t do anymore fun field trippy things with my friends that summer. So I imagine Señor Douche in a pink arm cast, looking like a true imbecile, sitting on the bench while his friends play on the slide. Did I mention he’s 33?
I remember why I’m single. I don’t think I have to do much more explaining to showcase why this man is single at 33. Tact? Nah. Swag? Please. The fact that he had to attack my physical appearance says so much more about him than it does me, and I’m thankful that he showed me who he really is – a “sensitive susie,” if you will – before I wasted my time and a nice outfit to meet him. I also don’t have to showcase much more to explain why I’m still single. Some girls may have been so interested in being interested in (does that make sense?) that they would have planned a date after his first mistake of a conversation starter, “soooo……” And while I wouldn’t mind meeting a nice guy, I’m not willing to leave everything the women in my life taught me to do it. Pushover? Nope. Desperate? I mean, a little, but hell no. My grandmother would call him a coño and move right along in the same breath. Well, Mama, I’m moving right along.
And as far as not dating black women? Besides further showing me your ignorance – to women as well as life in 2015 America, apparently – you probably should avoid dating women altogether as I can attest to the badassery that most women of my generation possess that would shut down your unbelievable, embarrassing nonsense in 2.5
Lesson learned: Men at 22 are generally the same men at 30. Pass the wine, thanks. Choo choo!