Dating is fairly quiet right now. There’s someone I really like that I’m looking forward to seeing in a few weeks but until then, I’m just available for dates. (For bookings, please see my agent.) I had a date with a (much younger) guy last week and that’s about it really.
Oh, apart from Jamie. I’ll use his real name because he’s a douchebag and I’m happy to ignore my anonymous rules on this occasion. Plus it’s probably not even his real name. But think Timberlake in his N-Sync days. (What was I thinking!)
This is a tale about how a) dating is just frickin’ ridiculous, b) how I don’t think I’ll ever understand men and c) how I don’t think I’ll ever understand men.
I still don’t know quite what happened .. but I’ll try and explain.
So I got talking to Jamie at the end of last year (free dating site – say no more). He’s 34, a fireman. All good. We chatted for a week or so, on the site and then via text. Swapped photos (all clean photos – Mum would be proud) and when it finally came to actually getting round to meeting, we agreed he’d come over to a pub in my neck of the woods one particular lunchtime.
We chatted the morning of the date, I said I’d text him when I was on my way.
And then he went completely silent.
Now this isn’t unheard of in the dating world. Men (and I’m sure women) like to play games so yes, I was annoyed, but didn’t really think much more about it – I just put him in the ‘Douchebag’ category and moved on with my life.
Over the following few months he tried to get in touch with me again several times, mumbling something about ‘cold feet’ … ‘being sorry’ … ‘he won’t do it again.’ I just heard ‘blah blah blah … feet … blah blah sorry.’ I told him he was a dick, that I really didn’t have time to play games and that he shouldn’t contact me again.
A month later. He contacted me again – pleading for forgiveness.
I ignored him.
Fast forward to last week and he’s back in touch again. I asked him why would I go out of my way to converse with him, let alone meet him and he couldn’t have been more sorry. I think he may have even used the phrase, “I’ve learnt my lesson.”
And then he rang me. (I know! Actual talking on the phone!)
This was actually the first time we’d spoken on the phone and he honestly couldn’t have been more contrite. We chatted for 20 minutes, he asked me out again and I decided to give him one more chance. I told him I wasn’t going to move from where I usually am (my local café) but if he wanted to see me the following Tuesday morning, that’s where I’d be.
He thanked me profusely and we swapped a few text texts during that time. He then text me the morning of the date, trying to arrange a suitable time. I said I’d be there until 1pm.
OK … I think you can all gather what happened next. I never heard from him again.
And you know what’s really sad about the whole debacle? I feel nothing. I don’t even feel angry, or confused, or annoyed. I feel indifferent. Stuff like this happens all the time when you date – being 43 and ‘grown up’ doesn’t make any difference … when you’re dealing with the opposite sex, games WILL be played.
I can only presume he was married and just likes an ego boost but bloody hell, hasn’t he got better things to do with his time? I can’t think of anything more boring than going through the whole rigmarole of arranging a date when I have no intention of going, just so that I can get a metaphorical boner over the thought of someone sat in a bar waiting for me.
So to those readers out there who like living vicariously through me and my singledom, let this be a reminder that in the cold light of day, dating isn’t always fun – sometimes it’s just plain weird.
If anyone does understand men, please enlighten me.