I’m sure everyone has been impatiently waiting for an update to this blog. Kidding. No one’s reading this.
It’s been a while, though. I never really think about writing here when I’m happy or busy. Or on another coffee date. Of which there are more of those than dinner or movie dates or any dates that might lead to something more than an attempt at a situationship.
Speaking of, I kind of stopped trying to meet anyone for a while. After … well, it gets hard being the only one investing in… a lie? A misrepresentation? I think he called it “none of your business.” Ha!
The biggest lie in dating and relationships is that there are rules and people who are exceptions to said rules. There are no rules. But there are ‘acceptations.’ Meaning, it’s up to you whether you accept what someone is willing to give you: the entire cookie, or just the crumbs.
We’ve all taken crumbs and tried to make a whole cookie out of them, just to watch it crumble (there’s a pun in there, you’re welcome).
Anyway, that’s been over for a while now. And my best friend convinced me to try putting myself back out there because–well, she thinks I just need to get laid every so often while I wait for my forever person. Clear out the cobwebs.
Today’s coffee date (I know, yet ANOTHER coffee date) was beyond gorgeous. Tall. Muscular. Chiseled. I knew I had no business meeting up with this man, I clearly am not his type. But I did, because… well, to be honest, he was fucking hot. And on top of that, he was good with words–at least when texting. Do you know how hard it is to find a guy that gets my humor–and can give it back?
In person, we had that same chemistry, or so I thought. I’m embarrassed to admit that I was so distracted by his looks, and so invested in wanting him to be some kind of unicorn, I almost missed what was so obvious. It was literally written all over his beautiful face–in deep blue, outlined by thick, dark lashes. His eyes were what gave him away. They weren’t “get to know you” eyes. And they were more than “undressing you” eyes. Just “emotionally unavailable” eyes in a very pretty package.
The conversation went nowhere. He asked questions designed to lead to innuendos. And while those were clever and funny, I caught on to the reality of what he was actually looking for: a fling, booty call, NSA, FWB… everything except the relationship he claimed he was looking for on his dating profile.
When I called him out, he didn’t even pretend to be sorry. Just offered me a situationship instead–as if I needed the favor. And he did so with all the confidence of a man who has never been turned down in his life.
The audacity of pretty privilege never fails to amaze me.
It’s disappointing; but in spite of his dishonesty, I’m still really attracted to him.
Botheringly so. Even if he did describe me as “mature.” (Gag me, no pun).
My best friend says I should’ve hooked up with him anyway. On my terms, she said. Everyone should have a fling, she said. She was also quite impressed with Mr. NCOhMyGod’s photos. That’s right, he’s in the military. Didn’t look like it, but it was on his profile.
I thought about what my best friend said, and it sounds empowering in theory–taking control by owning it. But am I really, though? Owning it, that is.
Accepting less than I went in for is like taking a consolation prize for being a loser.
And his terms were clear: he would decide when, where, and how, and most importantly, when it ends. By stating these conditions upfront, he absolves himself of any responsibility for hurt feelings.
Maybe he didn’t say it verbatim, but I’ve accidentally been there and done that enough times to recognize a spade when I see one.
Yeah, after a few more of those kinds of situationships, I’ll need therapy just to be able to look myself in the eyes again. And contrary to popular belief, my standards aren’t buried in the same grave as my metabolism. Anymore.
So, I did not agree with the terms and conditions as stated, and so declined his offer. Disrespectfully.
Respectfully,
~Perpetually Single Me
