I’m going to try my best to recall this series of strange-ass events, but please don’t be disappointed if I get the time line a little bit messed up. This was a long, convoluted sequence of crazy. The good news? Bullet: dodged.
So I met this guy we’ll call D back in September. We talked for all of 15 minutes on Grindr before I was headed over to his place. Why? Because he caught me on a day that I was feeling particularly bad about myself.
You know those days when you feel ugly, unwanted, bored, restless, and… well, ready to go?
One of those days.
So I did what any sane, respect-commanding, worthwhile human would do: I went over to his house and hooked up with him. And then I left because awkward.
Then we hung out
Kind of. I guess.
We planned to get together a couple days later, but when I texted him to follow up, he took too long to respond. My life moves quickly. I ain’t got all day to waste. If you don’t respond in 30 minutes, I move on to other plans.
Those plans mainly involved me conquering the world. As I always do.
Because he wasn’t great at texting me first (I hate dating guys who are as pretty as I am), I promptly forgot he existed for a few days. Then he texted me to come over.
I think it’s incredibly rude when guys text you after midnight and tell you to come over. It’s like they expect you to drop everything and just… cater to their whims or something. What if I’m busy or had something planned? It wasn’t an invitation, a suggestion, or a request, but rather a command.
So I went over. But we didn’t do anything. We just ate pizza and played cards and talked while he cleaned out his spare room.
The night wrapped up with, “When can I see you again?”
I responded in the sly: “When do you want to see me again?”
He asked me what I was doing the next day. Solid. Let’s do this. We’ll cuddle and whatever. Awesome.
I text him the next afternoon to see when he wants to hang out, exactly. I’m trying to plan my day accordingly.
He doesn’t respond for several hours.
Sorry. I fell asleep.
Of course you did.
I had a lot on my plate, so we called it a no-go. He asked me to meet him at the gym two days later. Great. Good. Fine. Okay.
We met up at the gym on Monday, as planned, and had a merry ol’ time. It was great. But at this point he had a 50% follow-through rate on plans – well below my expectations. There wasn’t a chance in hell I’d be putting out for him again.
But getting to go to the gym for free was pretty sweet. We decided to do it again the next day.
I think you can assume what happened the next day. As I said, I have a lot going on, and this was disappointing and frustrating. I promptly lost his number…
…which actually means I deleted all his text messages, but kept his phone number, so I would know which asshole was texting me and could reply with new phone who dis accordingly.
But that’s when the story gets interesting.
My Ghost, Where’d You Go?
A couple weeks later, he sent me a message on Grindr (stay classy) to ask why he hadn’t heard from me. I get a bit peeved when guys flake on me, forget I exist, and then get pissed at me for not reaching out to them. What is it about El Paso that makes these fuckboys think I’m supposed to make the first move? Or any move?
I responded in kind: with a photo of a middle finger and a one-liner about communication being a two-way street.
He told me his phone had broken, so he’d lost my number. Uh huh. Sure.
Then he asked if I wanted to do something the next day. Nope. Not particularly. But I was bored as fuck so I figured, sure, why not?
The next morning, sure enough, he actually texted me. We made plans for the afternoon – an invitation to meet up with his family.
I told the rest of this day’s story in the first episode of the Single AF Podcast, so feel welcome to get caught up:
When I asked him what time we wanted to meet and where we should meet him, he never responded again.
As a matter of fact, I never got another text message from him again.
But the story continues.
El Paso Protests Donald Trump
Fast forward a few weeks and I’m at the Donald Trump protest at San Jacinto Plaza in downtown El Paso. There’s a crowd of several hundred people.
Senor Fuckboy/The Ghost/D has continued to like my posts on Facebook for the past month, but failed to bother to send me any messages (text, Grindr, or otherwise). I’d considered egging his house, but had so far been a reasonable adult.
So who finds me in the crowd of 300 people but D himself!?
He stood by me, caught my attention, and offered one modicum of conversation: This is crazy, huh?
“Yep,” I said.
He continued to stand next to me silently for the next 15 minutes. I finally bolted through the crowd and around the corner (like a god damn ninja wizard, by the way) when his back was turned.
I’ll show you how to ghost, asshole.
I mentioned this update in another episode, but I kept him on Facebook because I just knew this story would get even better.
And boy did it ever.
Folks, you’re now in territory that’s exclusive only to the biggest fans of the Single AF Podcast. I will never finish this story in a video or another post. If you’ve found this, count yourself a superfan. You’ve earned it.
And here we go.
The Ghost Moves to Mexico
Lots of people threatened it on election night, but few actually followed through. D picked up and moved across the border after all. I’ll be damned: he actually does follow through with some of his plans. Sometimes.
I’m assuming this also meant breaking his lease, since he’d mentioned that he’d only been in his apartment (read: shithole of an attic above a doctor’s office) for a few weeks when I’d first met him.
But then it gets weirder.
A few days later, he announced his engagement on Facebook, to much congratulations from his family.
Now, this is a guy who had made it damn well clear to me that he wasn’t interested in a relationship or anything long-term (I’m not dumb; I know that just means not interested in a relationship with me, but let’s play pretend). He was the most unreliable guy I’d ‘hung out with’ in quite a while (if not ever). And now he was engaged.
But he hadn’t actually popped the question yet, apparently.
A few days later, he posted on Facebook again to ask for a dog sitter to watch his puppy while he went out of the country. Okay, fair enough.
And then it happened.
The moment that made every single bit of frustration and heartache worth it.
At 11 PM last Tuesday, I got the Facebook notification.
D has invited you to his event D&J’s Wedding.
I’d hit the relationship writer’s jackpot.
On Sunday, he posted his wedding photos.
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why you never date somebody who is as pretty as you are.