Is the universe telling me that I am not ready to date? I think so. Now, I’ve quit the dating sites for the time being, see this post for that ridiculousness. Let’s back up to last week.
The guy from this post has been calling and texting again. While I believe him to be a complete asshole, I figured I could actually go out with him just to break the seal on dating. Seemed like a good strategy: I expected it to be terrible as he’s quite an abrasive person with absolutely no desire to actually let a conversation happen organically. He’s brash and rude, so, an excellent throw-away date. If it turned out to be decent then it would be a marvelous surprise, but no hard feelings either way. Just a way to rip the band aid and get myself out there again.
So while I was in NYC he called. I let him know I’d call him at a later date, as I was busy with work and having adventures with one my fabulous freshman-year roomies. Anyway, when I got home and settled a few days later, I text him to say hi, and per usual he called back instead of a text response (which I appreciate, I’m not a fan of text conversations, but he works long hours so I thought it best to text first).
He cut to the chase, there was no “hi, how are you?” but right to: when we were going to hang out? OK, I can respect someone who wants to cut the crap.
BUT THEN, his usual attitude kicked in with something to the effect that he felt I was ‘looking for something serious, and he was not, so just to clarify….’ (for some odd reason as I’ve given absolutely no indication of this, and nor do I feel the need for something serious with someone I’ve never met.)
My snarky inner-monologue said “no wonder he’s divorced”,
I quickly realized that’s the pot calling the kettle black….oopse!)
An hour later he text asking when I could get together. I suggested a few dates/times and we settled on Friday the 13th. Very fitting, indeed. Let me get there. My suspicions turned out to be correct in that he was planning to be a no-show, so thankfully I had already made alternate plans with friends for a pre-Valentine happy hour.
As I was parking and walking to The Hyde Out to meet a few friends, he text asking if I was bored. WTF? Really, so you think that I would sit home on Friday night waiting for you to summon me? UMM NO. How did I respond, you ask?! I didn’t, and will not. It’s dead before it began – did I mention this has been going on since December and I’d never actually met him in person?
So let’s fast-forward a few hours, and a few cocktails later. It was a cute place and there were a lot of interesting people to watch. It’s time to go powder my nose, and after a friend explained where the hidden door was to the ladies’ room, I waded through the crowd and took a wrong turn.
While I could have recovered quickly, the Jerk-Face yelled at me harshly that it was my fault. I was a bit dazed so I have no idea what he actually said, his words hurt more than my bleeding nose… and then I cried. Crying might have been the worst part – crying in public with my bloody nose and no one to help me save face or give compassion at all. No “sorry” or anything to that effect, no “my bad, I smashed your face”… I don’t care who you are, you cause accidental injury to someone, apologize.
Needless to say, I left. I walked back to my car and text my friends what had happened and I drove home. My feelings, and my nose were wounded. I thought I had bested my Friday-The-13th non-date with my own plans for a night on the town, nursed the small hope of a nice guy glancing my way…and I get pummeled by an even worse Poop-Head.
I think the universe it telling me to cool it on attempting to meet someone. I am going to agree for now. Just me and the fur babies, we got this.