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I had turned twenty-five at the end of last August. I went on a few dates here and there—guys I met through Meetup, Instagram, a friend. Her ex-Tinder date, actually.
I told you I was desperate. Nothing came of them.
I wondered what it more info take for a guy to like me enough to put in actual effort.
I wondered what it would take for me to like a guy enough to let down my guard. Over the summer, I tried dating apps outside of Tinder with zero success. Bumble had too many uppity white dudes. East Meet East had too many passive Asian guys and was also just a really terrible name, period.
I was taking the initiative and composing messages to men in hopes of securing their interest. I thought about how and why I was such a failure in the dating department.
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I thought about this often. I knew that was wrong. I was impatient and unlikable and an unapologetic misandrist by default, and that was not going to change. I started worrying about being alone in the long term. Did I have friends who would be there for me when I was old and frail? Or even now, when I get sick? Or would they be too busy with their spouses and future children?
I needed to strengthen my safety net. The idea of having a boyfriend was pretty laughable at this point. Being perpetually single had warped me into a solitary, eccentric creature with habits that were questionable and okay fine, sometimes downright gross. I talked to myself out loud. I danced alone in my room and occasionally attempted to twerk then felt kind of embarrassed and guilty for having tried.
I blew my nose and let the used tissues pile up next to me in bed. I clipped my nails and sometimes go here them fall where they may.
I preferred sleeping alone, watching shows alone, crying alone, reading alone, and writing alone. I had determined that I was pretty much a lost cause. I figured I would keep going on dates anyway. It was similar to what I felt about patriarchy and white supremacy: I ended up on Tinder again in September of that year.
Guys are still flakey. Guys are still boring. Things are still going to be awkward and confusing and disappointing.
Might as well make use of an app that helps me get through them faster until I find Mr. I knew he was interested, because he had Super Liked me. I skimmed through his photos. Only one of them made me think he was attractive. I decided the quality of the single photo was enough for me to surmise that he was probably good-looking, and swiped right. After matching, we talked a little about Pokemon Go my current obsession at the time and exchanged numbers.
He hit me up via text right away. He was a person of color, he should know better than to ask. Nobody asks Becky or John where their names are from. I responded to him the next day. No morning cuddles from you click at this page lol. I decided to take a gamble and flirt back. We started talking about Pokemon again.
I was fine with that until I found out he lived with his family and wanted to come over to my place. I shared a dilapidated house with 3 other roommates. I had never done it before. Would I have to give my roommates a heads up? What if my date and I ran into one of them? How would that introduction go?
issuu by Yaneth Paola Cagua Herrera - issuu
Was it even necessary? We made plans to meet on a Monday night at a bar in Alameda I had never been to. This bitch kept hitting me up over the weekend, asking me what I was up to. Visit web page need to fill in the space before then with vapid small talk. I felt slightly guilty but mostly apathetic. I walked into the bar and was unpleasantly surprised.
It was filled with white people. I was slightly irritated because I like my spaces to be diverse whenever possible. A predominantly white space signaled to me that there was a reason people of color stayed away. But there was no backing out now. Tayo and I greeted each other with a hug and got a couple Katie From The Kitchen Hookup Tayo Song beers. Despite our racially homogeneous surroundings, I enjoyed talking with him. He was a dance instructor for kids at a local school, which I thought was pretty cool.
In person, he was more compact than I thought he would be. He actually kind of reminded me of the turtle he was holding in the picture, but like, not in a good way. I was also feeling a little uneasy, because I could tell he was still attracted to me IRL.
He complimented me on my outfit and subtly touched me throughout the night. It spelled trouble in my mind. Well, I assumed it was centered on white media, because the questions revolved around shows both Tayo and I had never heard of or watched. Could have just been a generational thing, but who are we kidding, probably a white people thing.
After a couple of hours of chilling at the bar, we headed out. He walked me to my car, smiled Katie From The Kitchen Hookup Tayo Song hugged me. Knowing me, it could have been the latter. Yes, I can be an asshole, I thought we established this. But a little while after I got home, Tayo checked up on me:. Were those emojis really necessary?
What the hell was the rose emoji supposed to represent? Ugh, millennial dating culture. I tried to sound noncommittal in my response. I had a good time [I mean it was true, just not in the way he wanted]. We never watched Pokemon hah.
Oh god, he was still fixated on that?! Watching Pokemon was probably a euphemism for fucking. How is your week going?
The thought of texting either small talk or a politely worded rejection to him overwhelmed me. Or maybe he refused to.
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Dudes are socially conditioned to be pursuers, after all. Over a week later, he sent me another text.
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Looking back, I wish I had responded to his text message about wanting to meet up again with something along these lines:. That said, it was nice meeting you and I wish you well. Or maybe that message would have been more hurtful than what I did. Suffice it to say, rejection sucks on both ends.
Although yes, quite a bit more on the receiving end. Learkana is an asshole! Too many white people. It holds different weights at different times.