So I haven’t heard from the 29 year old since Friday, the day after I spent the night. We texted a bit and that was that. I knew he’d gone out of town for the weekend so I texted Sunday to see how it went. No response. He usually responds right away so I knew immediately this was different.
I’ve learned enough to not believe what I’m told… So when he would talk about future trips for us or talked about how he only wanted to see me instead of other girls, I rolled my eyes internally and smiled externally. I didn’t believe him.
But there was enough action, I thought, to back those things he said. And he seemed to be genuinely nice. Like soooooo nice. How could he have hidden his inner asshole so well??? How did I not see through the things he said and did? I slept with him because I never thought this would happen.
I had asked him why he wasn’t dating someone his own age and he said because they weren’t mature enough for him. He said he liked how smart I am and how I have my shit together.
That didn’t change because we slept together. So what is it? What don’t I have? Why do I feel, again, like I am not good enough?
What makes me even sadder is that although I refused to admit it, I liked hanging out with him. He made me laugh and we had fun. And even more embarrassing, I had just told some friends about him. I was excited to have met someone.
Soooo …. what’s wrong with me? Why is he no longer interested? I get on a basic level that he got what he wanted so he doesn’t have to put any more effort into it but this wasn’t like a week’s or month’s worth of effort. We’ve been chatting since December. We didn’t get to meet for the first time until February so we texted here and there, emailed when I was phoneless, conversed electronically in multiple ways. It was a lot of effort to keep in touch.
Soooo… all that effort was for one night? I can’t wrap my head around that. And maybe it’s as easy as that. He got what he wanted. But he could’ve got that from anyone else, easier.
Soooo… because I can’t stop thinking about it & the effort & the things he did, not just said…. I dive into the “it’s me” portion of this post.
The problem is I don’t have answers. I can only think things like “I’m not pretty enough” or “I’m not good in bed” or “He didn’t like what he saw” or replay everything I did and try to figure out what I did wrong. There’s also just the basic “I must suck” thought. But suck at what? Maybe just at life because it’s been 6 years since I started this blog and the same shit still happens.
I wish I could change whatever is wrong with me. I’m open to suggestions.
And also I’m ashamed that I’m even writing this, especially as the odds of hearing from him grow dimmer daily, but I still want to hear from him. Maybe just because it’ll make me feel less like a loser.
We’d left things with a decision to meet again, and a few weeks after our first meeting, I was going to be in DC for work. I planned on staying through the weekend and going to the company Christmas party, so I invited him. He’s officially gone to more of my company parties than people I actually work with.
He got there Saturday afternoon, and from Saturday to Sunday, when we weren’t talking about DC landmarks, we talked about work. Again and again and again. I was so bored I thought my eyes would roll out of my head.
I also decided I wasn’t going to bring up anything important – I wanted to see if he wanted to bring it up, or at least learn more about my past. I still have questions about his, and just generally, I wanted to see if we could have a relaxed conversation about all things in life.
Nope. We cannot.
We do similar work, so I understand why it’s an easy fallback, but really – I have more chemistry with Lincoln’s statue than I do with him. We don’t laugh a lot when we’re together, we don’t chat about anything of substance, and when we do, we don’t agree.
As we drove through DC, there was homeless outreach going on and I said something to the effect of “That’s so nice” and he said something to the effect of “They should get a job.”
I almost lost it. I did go off a bit on him about the reasons homelessness exist in this country and how there’s no safety net and how it’s so hard to get out of once you’re in it, but I don’t know that he cared. I also don’t think it makes him a bad person, but it’s not how *I* think. I told my parents he said that and even they were incredulous. My mom’s response was “What address would they even give for a job?” EXACTLY MOM.
Then, we had a ridiculous conversation about kids playing sports. I have to read up on kids/sports/injuries for work and said that with all the information coming out around TBI (traumatic brain injury) and CTE (chronic traumatic encephalopathy) I wouldn’t want my nieces or nephews playing a sport where the potential long term effects aren’t known yet, or they’re known but aren’t widely studied. You only have one brain, man. Keep it as sharp as you can for as long as you can. That’s my take.
His take was, “Well, I wouldn’t say no if my kid wanted to play. It’s their choice.”
My response to that was, “That’s why you’re the parent. Because you’re supposed to know better than a 7 year old.”
When I mentioned this to some friends, their response was, “Yeah, that’s why you see kids of these FOB parents running around all over the place with no discipline!”
And they’re right. There’s a fundamental difference that I can’t pinpoint, but even my sister’s seen it – she has fobby friends who are very sweet, but the kids, who were born here. OMG. Hellions. No structure, no guidance, no bedtimes, no nothing… they do whatever they want. And it’s an epidemic.
Anyway, he dropped me at the airport. Had our awkward side hug (oh, he stayed in the hotel room next to me. Not even a kiss goodnight after the party.) to say goodbye.
Since then? No calls. Just stupid texts: “How you doing? How’s work? My work is busy.”
I’m pretty much done and just need to call it. I think he is too. But I also think we have zero other options. BLAH.
A few months ago, my cousin introduced me to a new guy: me and this guy are the same age, we do extremely similar work, and we’re the same type of Indian. Basically on paper it looks like a match. I said I’d talk to him, even knowing he’s divorced (really, being divorced doesn’t bother me, but I do want to know why the marriage didn’t work.)
So we started chatting on the phone. The same inane conversations I always have with these guys: “So, how’s work? What’d you do for dinner? Do you like to cook? What kind of food do you like to make?”
The usual interview questions for the position of wife and CEO of the household.
But, he did seem genuinely nice and it’s not like I’m getting any younger, so I agreed to meet him. We hadn’t talked about ANYTHING important on the phone, but he offered to come down and visit me and we agreed on last weekend.
And, to his credit, before coming down, he even made dinner reservations on Saturday night at a super swanky place I’d been wanting to try. Initiative!
And, also to his credit, I took him to a work party after I picked up him from the airport (yup, our first time meeting in person and the first activity was with 20 coworkers) and he did great! He was nice and chatty. Friendly!
And, also also to his credit, he paid for everything all weekend. He even tried to buy me a piece of art I spotted in downtown though I wouldn’t let him. I offered to pay each time, since he flew down and had to get a hotel room too, but he wouldn’t let me. He even brought me earrings as a birthday gift. Generous!
So even with all these great things, he is FOB and with being a FOB comes the FOB love.
FOB love is what me and my friends call the overbearing, overwhelming, almost desperate behavior of Indian guys (from India) when it comes to women. There is no playing it cool or any games, which is great, but there is this never ending barrage of trying to help when no help is needed, or thinking that just buying things makes a relationship.
I sound like a bitch, which I am, but there’s no way to explain how irritating this is because it sounds great, right? Like who doesn’t want a guy that’s so concerned and helpful and generous? But it can be so smothering.
There were a lot of little things, but the best example is when I was dropping him off at the airport on Sunday. I was chatting about flying for Thanksgiving and how I thought ticket prices would be expensive and out of nowhere, he goes, “I have like 50,000 skymiles I’m not using. You can have them.”
My response: “Um… no. Look, we’re not dating. We’re not anything. We just met for the first time. I don’t want your skymiles, I have my own. I appreciate it, but no.”
I know that I sound ungrateful. But here’s the problem: I think he thinks buying me things (dinners, birthday gift, lunches, offering me skymiles) makes a relationship. It doesn’t.
We only talked ONCE about his divorce, and that’s because I brought it up. And of course, everything he said blamed her. Which, maybe it was mostly her fault, but as my mom says, “it takes two hands to clap.” I just never heard what the other hand did.
And we wouldn’t even have had that conversation if it was up to him. We didn’t talk about any other relationships (mine or his); we didn’t talk about sex; we didn’t talk about friends; we didn’t talk about family; we didn’t talk about anything of fucking substance. He has no idea about my past. And I don’t know about his. So I don’t want to be treated like a girlfriend when we’re not even really friends.
We chatted again today and it was the same stupid shit. “How was your day? What’s for dinner? Are you ready to travel?” It’s like the conversation never moves forward.
But that said, I did tell him that I thought we should meet again because I had more questions for him and he should have questions for me.
So we’re going to get together in a few weeks again.
So my vibrant neighbor moved on from her first online dating disaster pretty quickly. She met a new guy on match (her age, 75), had had her first date with him and when we were chatting about it, she told me she was thinking of moving in with him after the holidays.
Neighbor: “At my age, when you know, you just know. I don’t have time to waste and neither does he.”
Me: “Wow! That’s awesome!”
Me internally: WOW. Should I be thinking this way? It’s not like I’m getting any younger. Am I too picky? God dammit…. I am.
Neighbor: “I’m so glad I gave him another chance.”
Me: “Wait… what?”
Neighbor: “On our first date he showed up drunk, and he sent me email after email apologizing. I decided to give him a second chance.”
Me: “Oh… wow. Um…. that’s great!”
Me internally: And *there* is the kicker. Should I warn her? That’s such a red flag. But… No she won’t believe me. And I’m cynical. Maybe it’ll work out.
A week later, I ran into her outside and asked about her man.
Turned out they’d gone for a walk and he couldn’t keep up – he was hunched over, huffing and puffing, and generally acting old which totally turned her off. She’d ended it with him by just saying she didn’t think they were compatible.
Well it turns out their age really does not fucking matter.
He emailed her to say he thought she was horrible AND WRINKLY and not pretty enough for him.
She didn’t respond.
So he emailed her again every day for the next week begging for forgiveness and asking for another chance.
She didn’t respond.
I was chatting with my downstairs neighbor who’s 75 years young. She is so vivacious and awesome. She has adult children, still works a full time job and decided she’s been single for long enough (by choice) that she decided to get on Match.
She had a date with an 80 year old guy. First date went well and they set up their next one. Their second date was near his birthday – she took him a bottle of wine, they sat outside on his deck and watched the sun set on the river ($$$), and they went to one of the best restaurants in town.
I saw her a couple of days after their second date, and she hadn’t heard from him. She texted him “Happy Birthday” and wished him well. No response. Five days later and she hadn’t heard from.
SHE NEVER HEARD FROM HIM AGAIN!!!! AND… WE CAN’T EVEN JOKE HE DIED. Because you know… he may have (but really, I think he’s just an 80 year old douche).
Anyway, it really does not matter their fucking age. Assholes are assholes, whether their bodies are amazing or wrinkly. It just never gets better.