Dating has its … ups and downs (pardon the pun.)  Some dates are great – the guy is attentive, sweet, kind, hot and, even if it’s just one date, as long as you’re treated with respect, it’s nice just to leave it as that.  A one-off.

 

However, as my ‘When Dating Goes Bad’ post will prove, other dates are total cockzoids and should be sent to live in Kazakstan in a shed full of randy goats with herpes.

 

There seems to be a pattern forming amongst a lot of men on this particular dating site insofar as how they actually talk to women.  I would imagine how they speak to me is pretty much how they message all women and you know what, I know it’s a dating site ‘n all … but sweet Jesus, do they really have to be so a) illiterate b) rude c) moronic?

 

You may think, “Oh that’s just on t’interwebs – they can’t be like that once you actually get to know them.”  You’re right, they’re not all like that but … let me give you a little insight into what some men can be like.

 

I’d been speaking to V online for two weeks.  London based, his profile caught my eye because he’s an actor as well as an athlete, which made for a pretty eclectic mix of photos.  I did some (non-stalker) research on him to make sure he was who he said he was before we spoke on the phone.  His information is on plenty of websites that try and get actors work so I didn’t think there was too much to worry about.

 

So, he seemed cool.  Northern guy living in London.  A little taller than me, nice looking … someone a little different to the norm.  My new job is still keeping me really busy so I’d been quite hard to pin down (metaphorically,) but we finally spoke on the phone one lunchtime.  He seemed really nice.  Very easy-going, conversation flowed well, it was flirtatious but each of us were trying to glean small snippets of information from the other person.

 

He text me afterwards and said, “You sound really nice.”  I replied, somewhat tongue in cheek, “I am.”

 

We swapped a few more texts and he messaged me on the dating site on Sunday evening and asked if he could call that night.  I said 10pm would be good (Downton Abbey takes priority over men EVERY TIME,)  but, of course, got no call.

 

First thing Monday he text:  “Hey Miss Lovely, you all good?  X”

 

Destiny Child’s song, “Say My Name,” popped into my head and I wondered if he just couldn’t remember my name.  I thought the message was a bit twatty, but gave him the benefit of the doubt.

 

To cut a convoluted story short, he’d made out he’d tried to call (he really didn’t,) then tried to arrange a time we could meet.  I explained I couldn’t come to London during the week but that we could meet at a pub near to me if he wanted to meet (I’d actually said no to him coming direct to my house.)

 

We agreed a time and place.  He asked if I’d meet him at the train station instead of the pub, which I thought was a bit weird, but I agreed.  I booked a babysitter.  I told him that if he changed his mind or couldn’t make it, could he let me know as I’d have to pay for a babysitter either way.  He agreed.

 

And here’s where it all went a bit weird (as is par for the course.)

 

Remember … he asked me out, pursued me, asked me to meet him at the bloody train station because he’s too scared to go into a pub on his own (I made that last bit up but it’s probably true.)

 

I got home at 6.30pm that night and text him to make sure he was still coming (I hadn’t heard from him since lunchtime.)

 

 

Ummm.  I asked him if he was kidding.  No response.  So I had to cancel my babysitter, feigning a migraine because I was too bloody embarrassed to admit that I’d been dicked around again by a man.  She could have charged me £20 … but thankfully she didn’t.

 

I chalked the whole thing up to experience and actually, because my expectations are now so damn low of men from dating sites, I had half expected it.  What I didn’t expect, however, was for him to message me direct on the dating site that night.

 

His ‘excuse’ was that he didn’t think I seemed ‘that keen.’

 

Right, so I’ve booked a babysitter, made myself available and said I’d meet him at the station … but I’m ‘not that keen.’

 

Fact is, he was a waste of space and I was annoyed, but figured he wasn’t worth wasting any more of my time thinking about.  So I blocked him on the site so he couldn’t contact me and figured that was the end of it.

 

And then he decided to text me.

 

 

Really?!??!?

 

I couldn’t be bothered to get into an argument.  I was prepared to even gloss over the fact he’d spelt ‘initially’ wrong … that’s how tired I was.  And he was crying because I suggested a pub when he wanted to?   Boo bloody hoo!

 

But I did want to point out that he’d (potentially) cost me £20 and that I didn’t want him to contact me again.

 

His response?

 

 

Nice.   And that final text from him brings me back to my original point.  When has it become ‘the norm’ to talk to women that way?  What did I do to deserve that text?  I wish it hadn’t annoyed me … but it did.  I was the one that had been messed around and he had the audacity to speak to me like that??

 

 

Yes, it was another lucky escape … but just because someone can hide behind their laptop and pretend they’re Johnny Big Bollocks (when I would imagine exactly the opposite is the case,) that doesn’t give them the right to be so downright rude.

 

 

The moral of this story is … never date a man who lists his profession as ‘model/actor,’ never date a man who’s named after a major car brand and never, ever allow yourself to get annoyed by someone who obviously has serious issues.

 

Because you see … my time is very, very valuable – I don’t date men just for something to do.  I’d rather Pinterest the shit out of the entire internet instead … so if I do agree to go on a date, don’t be a dick.  Treat me with respect, even if you’ve changed your mind.  I’m a grown ass woman – I can take it.  Seriously.  I. Do. Not. Give. A. Shit.

 

Aretha Franklin got it right – it’s all about the R.E.S.P.E.C.T – something some men know nothing about.

 

 

 

(Visited 31 time, 1 visit today)

Published by Kate Sutton

Writer, Mother, Dater.

Leave a comment

Your email address will not be published.

CommentLuv badge

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.