Publishing this post may be one of the more ill-advised things I have ever done. And don't get me wrong...I am still straight up not having a good time. But I recognized the comedic potential of my most recent dating disaster almost immediately. In fact, this may be my fifth stage of grief. Not really interested in acceptance but I will be happy if "exploiting pain for laughs" is where my grief journey ends. I may not be at the point where I can laugh about it...but I think some of you will.
Our story begins much like every other love story. Girl matches with boy. Boy can't meet girl due to a pandemic. The usual. You see, unlike a lot of my friends on social media I am following WHO recommendations to protect myself and others. And I'm still a big fan of meeting in a public place. I've seen too many Datelines to consider a private residence an option. So we planned to meet May 8th. Probably at a Walmart or Target, which longtime readers will know that I am NOT above. Sure, they haven't ended well, but how many of my dates have?
In the meantime we continued to get to know each other. Fell into a pattern. Video chats and phone calls and snapchat after unfiltered snapchat. By the time our snap streak reached 40 days I realized...this is the longest "relationship" I have had in a long time.
Now were there red flags? Sure. He had a tattoo of a Japanese character. He had only ever tried one milkshake flavor from Cook Out. He thought democratic socialism had potential. He vaped a little. But you can't see those red flags when you're skiing downhill with your eyes closed refusing to take a peek because really, when has that ever worked in your favor?
So I just kept skiing. And the strange thing is, I felt myself getting a little less crazy. I definitely continued to freak out over minor miscommunications but instead of scanning internet obituaries I made myself give him the benefit of the doubt. To quote Vivian Ward..."big mistake. huge."
Has giving a guy the benefit of the doubt ever been worth it? Like in the history of the world? Consider O.J. Simpson and Charlie Sheen and Alex Karev. But what can I say, I'm a slow learner. So imagine my surprise when on the 41st day of our snap streak...totally unchartered territory...I received a video that made it ABUNDANTLY clear that my mans wasn't my mans anymore. And maybe he never was.
And I just couldn't help but think...really? The literal DAY I tell my mom about you? It's past the point of no return now. Not even 12 hours earlier I mentioned him to my mother when she asked about dating apps. The last time I showed her my profile she thought that the display of zodiac signs meant my options were all cancer patients and pescatarians. Bless her heart. There is no coming back from this. If my mother thinks you have wronged me, you are dead to her. Forever. She's a real one.
In a way I blame myself for thinking that something good would happen to me. This just reinforces the unfortunate fact that I will never be on 90 Day Fiance because I lack the delusions needed for that to be a possibility. These, let's just say - not conventionally attractive - Americans start talking to foreigners who are young and hot think "wow, I'm so lucky." Meanwhile, a guy with more teeth than fingers shows interest in me and I start to wonder what's wrong with him. More often than not it's psychopathy.
But honestly, I'm not stupid for believing what I was told. (I am stupid for a variety of other reasons.) This boy told me he wanted to take me to his church. Which is good 'cause he needs to go repent. And I have found a new life verse to get me through these trying times.
As much as I favor self-deprecation over self-esteem, I know I don't deserve to be treated like that. Because no one does.
Most of what people have said to me hasn't really helped. Mainly because no one has said "will you marry me?" or "I have facilitated your arranged marriage." And it's no one's fault, there's really no way out but through. But something that has helped is realizing that the only thing worse than this happening on the 41st day would be it happening on the 42nd day. Or the 43rd.
Life right now is kind of like a futuristic dystopian novel. Unfortunately it's more like The Village and less like the Matched trilogy, but it is what it is. Quarantine sucks but being quarantined with a guy who vapes? That would be infinitely worse.
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