Tag: i hate dating

And then the goldfish returned…

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I was just starting my Sunday Funday when I got a text from him. “You’re the worst,” is all it said. Of course I assumed he was expressing his disdain for me. How was I supposed to know he was stating the name of a television show?! In case you forgot or didn’t read my previous posts about this guy, we had a couple weeks this summer of intense dating before he dumped me after I fell asleep drunk on my toilet. I was planning on dumping him because he got on my nerves so badly but he beat me to it. So disappointing. He was surprised that I even responded to the seemingly rude text he sent me but then asked if I wanted to grab a drink with him sometime. Of course I said no and we continued exchanging messages for over two hours. He was mostly apologetic and tried to remind me of our “crazy chemistry” while I was a typical bitch, reminding him of how he dumped me and giving him all the reasons I hate him. It ended there.

Until I got bored about 4 days later…

I was watching Girlfriend’s Guide to Divorce on Netflix and doing a coding course online. My brain started to hurt so I took a Facebook and text break. I basically told him, “Drinks. tomorrow. 7:30. J9 Wine Bar. Be there.” I left out the, “Or else” but I think it was clear that it was implied. Why was I doing this when I was going to dump him anyway earlier in the summer? I ask myself why I do most things on a daily basis. I rarely have answers to this question. This time I think I was just bored. I’m like a little kid who kicks a hornet nest even though she knows it’s potentially dangerous. She just wants some excitement and to see what would happen.

I was actually really looking forward to seeing him again and I was dying for a good Manhattan. This place had them. I was expecting our usual incessant teasing of one another and then I assumed he’d start to really get on my nerves and my eyeballs would start hurting from rolling them back in my head so often and I’d cuss him out again before taking a Lyft home.

I was wrong. He was calm and not nearly as irritating as usual. The bartender came over and said it was so good to see me again and asked if I wanted my usual Manhattan up. I saw the shock and confusion on his face and admitted that I’ve taken three other dates to this place after he introduced it to me early in the summer and befriended the owner and bartender. He also had taken dates there after he dumped me but he’s not nearly as fun and personable as I am so the staff doesn’t recognize him. We exchanged stories of our dates at J9 and then headed to a dive across the street to play Pop-a-Shot. Admittedly, I am fucking awful at sports. I was a dancer and a cheerleader. Sports that involve balls are not my thing. I averaged about 10 baskets per round in this game and was wildly impressed with myself. He was pretty good but then some guys came over and wanted to play too. They might as well have been professional basketball players. They never missed.

We both decided we had embarrassed ourselves enough so we went to the back bar to watch the band. He was unusually affectionate, gently touching my hair and my neck. I enjoyed it for a second and then I got freaked the fuck out. It was bed time anyway so we left. Before going to sleep though we texted and sort of made plans to hang out again the next week just for a movie and shitty pizza at my place.

I had no idea what I was doing. My initial plan was to see him for a couple drinks, we’d fight and I’d toss a drink in his face like they do in old movies and we’d never see each other again after I stormed out angrily and he stood there, dripping in whisky and in shock. Nothing ever goes as planned in my life though. I change my path abruptly just to shock myself I think. Always looking for the next adventure. I know ahead of time that I’m just going to leave him anyway but I might as well have some fun stories in the meantime.

The ice cream man

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After weeks of not getting enough attention from my “boyfriends” and nearly two months of having no sex, I decided it was time to swipe. Swiping used to be something I did as often as I breathed when I was newly single. After a while though, my swiping happened about as often as I mopped my floors, which was rarely.

I matched with a guy that night and we talked until after 4am. Both of us were shocked by this because we never chatted so much with people on dating apps and definitely never had so much fun doing it that we didn’t want to stop to sleep. He was also divorced, loved dogs, baseball, art and painting. He was in real estate and owned some investment properties and said he and his friends basically tried to work as little as possible all summer. (#lifegoals) Although, while my other hobbies include blogging, running and doing yoga, he was more into racing motorcycles, volunteering at PAWS and boating in his free time. And then I fell in love… (But seriously, what the hell is the deal with all these guys on Tinder and Bumble who have boats and why do I match with all of them? I must smell like Lake Michigan and they’re instantly attracted. Maybe…?) Everything about him seemed perfect until he called himself the Hugh Hefner of real estate and said he was surrounded by beautiful buildings instead of beautiful women. I gave him a pass on this lame ass comment because of the regular volunteering at PAWS.

A week went by and we chatted regularly, most often until close to 5am. One night around 3am, we both wanted tacos and ice cream. He lived nearby and told me to meet him at 7-11. He honestly asked me to walk 15 minutes to 7-11…at 3am…for some fuckin’ Ben & Jerry’s. Although the Pistachio Pistachio was screaming my name for all of Lakeview to hear, I opted to stay in my bed. This is when he tells me he already hopped in his Range Rover to drive (1/2 a block) to the convenience store to get ice cream. Instead of picking me up to get some or buying some for me and dropping it off, he took pictures of the icy pints of cookie dough and pistachio and sent them to me and told me he’d save my ice cream at his place for whenever I come over. Well isn’t that some bullshit??

A few days later after making plans to go check out the Navy Pier fireworks with one of my “boyfriends”, the plans fell through so I texted the ice cream man to see what he was up to. He invited me to meet him and some friends at Diversey Yacht Club. I walked over there after work and drank tequila cocktails and ate M&M’s with him and his friends. All they did was talk shit to each other and laugh so hard their faces and stomachs hurt. Naturally, I fit right in and loved them. I still swear his best friend and I were separated at birth. She’s brutally honest and blunt and incredibly foul-mouthed. He had the best laugh though. The kind of laugh that you know is genuine. It starts with a smile that stretches wider than you’d think was possible and makes you close your eyes so tightly. It’s accompanied by a loud sound that can only come from deep in your belly and the laugh ends with a long sigh while you wipe away tears and lean forward, clutching your stomach. He had that kind of laugh. All night.

Finally someone suggested a late-night boat cruise. The water and weather were perfect for the first 20 minutes. On our way back, the winds changed and buckets of water were being poured on us while we slid and bounced around the back of the boat. When we came back to the dock, he disappeared for a long time and his friends asked me if I wanted to do a little bump. Who am I to turn down free coke? It would have been rude of me. I graciously accepted, put my soaking hair into a bun and put on someone’s dry hoodie and we all wiped the seats and tables down with towels so we could sit and hang out again. When he came back, he and I snuggled up under a blanket and all of us had another drink and talked on the back of the boat for a couple more hours. He and I were both yawning and then had a mini tickle fight to wake up a bit. Everyone else had enough blow in their systems to party all night, I’m sure.

I had to work in the morning and he offered to drive me home. I said goodbye to people I expected would be my life-long best friends forever. We all hugged and said we were looking forward to hanging out again soon and the ice cream man walked with me to his Range Rover, he opened the door for me and I hopped in. He took me to my place, hugged me goodbye and waited until I got inside. After I showered the dirty lake water off of my body and out of my hair, I texted him to say thanks for everything and of course, sarcastically tell him how boring he was. He responded with, “lol I’m fucking awesome and you know it. tonight was definitely a blast.”

What could have been a boring Wednesday night in, ended up being an unexpected, fun-filled adventure with great people and a guy that I could really like. Nights like that are what summers are all about. Spontaneity, fun, laughs. The next day I had a cancellation at work and still wanted that fucking ice cream. Since I knew he rarely worked and he also lived down the street from my salon, I texted to see if he wanted to check out the new gelato spot on Southport. No response. I assumed he must be busy actually working or he was on the boat. Either way he normally replied right away but I didn’t worry about it. I went to the French bakery with my friend and got myself a macaroon instead. Later that night I texted him while I was (actually) Netflixing and chillin’. Hours later, still no response.

I could have just let it go like that but I didn’t want to. How hard is it to just say you aren’t interested in someone? How hard is it to just reply to a fucking text? Not hard at all. I let him know those things and told him ignoring someone is rude (Why do I have to tell so many people this??) and I would have appreciated a little communication since we’re grown adults. I thanked him again for everything and wished him luck in the shitty world of dating and thanked him also for reminding me that I should give up on it. If guys were ice cream, Baskin Robbins doesn’t even have enough flavors for me. I think I’ve gone through all 31 and every last one sucks. I’d rather die a born-again virgin before I swipe again and meet another guy.