The Dating Chronicles Of An Exasperated Lover.
Part one, the playette and her choices. I am officially wrapped in a man sandwich and I’m the thick ham right in the middle of…
Author: myania rankins
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Part one, the playette and her choices. I am officially wrapped in a man sandwich and I’m the thick ham right in the middle of…
Part one, the playette and her choices.
I am officially wrapped in a man sandwich and I’m the thick ham right in the middle of thin-sliced cheese and crispy ass lettuce of the shit.
For the year 2020 so far, I’ve been dating in threes.
Talking in threes,
Texting in threes,
Flirting in threes.
Recruiting three men to please all of my internal cravings and to avoid the heartbreaks that 2019 and 2018 brought in by just dealing with one jackass at a time.
I’ve noticed in this process that when you deal with three nice men, you don’t see the jackassery till later. By then you’ll see if you’re up for risking the appropriate transaction of giving your heart up and all that mushy shit that I crave so much.
Then again at this point, Love feels like a wet dream.
I just want a guy who can please me, love me, and care for me while just being confident in his own power.
But I guess I’ll just have fun like I’m supposed to when you’re “dating”.
This past December I broke up with a clingy yet distant saxophonist I met on Bumble. he played me like the instrument he blew his stuttering lips into.
It was almost Christmas when he decided to stop fucking with me and officially become a boyfriend to another girl. A strange equation since he stated that he wasn’t in the mood for a relationship.
It was my third time being on Bumble and being stupidly crushed up.
Seeing that it damn there ripped me in half on the search for Love, both my homegirls consoled me in their own way.
Diana, my high school best friend for nearly a decade, spilled her secret over a cold sprite and well-done salmon one afternoon at brunch.
“I know this isn’t what you wanna hear but in order to forget the man you were with, you gotta go to the next.” she smiled to ease my concern, she knew all about my dating fumbles and the men behind it. “ Just to have fun! Meet new guys, hang out with them, go dancing! That way you can choose a guy versus settling for only one at a time.” I couldn’t help but nod, it made sense.
Evelyn, my online converted to IRL best friend, gave me her blueprints while snacking on cheese curds a week later at our favorite bar.
“Dude, forget Hot Girl summer, it’s Hot Girl year!” She exclaimed. “Get back to Bumble and just be the most ‘You’ you can be!” She was practically glowing over the fact that I was back on the market. “Swipe whoever’s hot and go on a lot of dates! That way you can forget that asshole.” She popped a curd in her mouth and I exhaled a strawberry Daiquiri. Once again, more sense made.
January made its way in, my birthday came around and after being 24 for a week I figured out that I was too hot and likable to be single for another year.
I knew I would get a relationship one of these days but I did want to have fun. I wanted to treat guys like they did women, choose who they wanted and toss out who they didn’t. Keep the ones around when boredom came and play till satisfied.
I was tired of always caring more and loving even more.
I also wanted to meet better men. Funny, sexy, successful top tier men. The ones I’ve been with I’ve settled for because of loneliness. New year, new standards I suppose…
That night in my room binge-watching The Office for the 10th time, I knew something had to give.
So with a long groan I place my heart on the shelf, re-downloaded Bumble, signed back in for the fourth time, and took their advice head-on:
Have fun.
Talk to multiple dudes.
Be 100% yourself.
Don’t waste your energy on what you don’t want, be ruthless.
Don’t fall for these hoes! You’re the pimp.
After a few fun selfies with an honest profile uploaded, within moments every hottie in Illinois was swiping right on me.
Not gonna lie, it boosted a girl’s self-esteem like crazy.
After much consideration, blocking, and passionate communication, here were the men that were chosen on my scoreboard (some not even from the app itself) and my experiences with them so far.
The Charmer
This man was the true definition of “tall, dark, and handsome”. The funny thing was if it hadn’t been for his profile picture of him attempting to swing down a streetlight pole in a Fedora and a tailored vest in pure happiness, I wouldn’t have swiped back. It made me question and laugh at the same time.
Within 24 hours it was an instant click, we talk in paragraphs about flicks and our viewpoints on this earth. He liked my artistic swagger and I liked his chill interior. Within days we got to know each other well and had so many things alike. We both worked hard in our side hustles- his, Music production and mine, art and writing- loving anime and anything poetry driven.
After a week we both agreed it was time to meet up.
He chose the restaurant and the time, something a lady who plans everything truly appreciated. 11am at The Allis Chicago, a classy establishment that sells tea and elegance within their aged brick walls under glass chandeliers.
A huge coincidence since I’ve already been twice with Evelyn for our fake rich girl activities. It seemed that the universe was shining down on me.
The sun glistened that morning of our date as I fixed my ponytail. A simple black dress with my red mini purse and black suede booties was the Fit of the day. I scrolled down Twitter as I waited in their lobby area.
He texted me that he was 2 mins away and for once I was actually spinning in nerves.
It has been a while since I’ve been “nervous” on a first date, over a guy no less. My brain was spitting out ‘what ifs’ back to back.
What if he was ugly? Like the type that their profile picture was better than their real-life face? Been there and done that.
What if his energy sucks? We can fake a good conversation via text but you can’t fake it face to face. Also been there and did that too many times.
What if this was a waste of a date? I looked down at my outfit again, if it was I sure as hell wasn’t gonna have this sexy OOTD go in vain.
What if-
My phone chimed, he texted me that he was inside.
With the entrance to the side of me, I couldn’t turn my head to look in the crowd. I inhaled sharply.
As if he felt my energy and I felt his, he swooped right in front of me as my eyes stayed glued to my phone.
I finally looked up and there he stood, in a crispy suit and with open arms for a hug.
Twinkling eyes. Thick hair and brows. Honest smile. Actually 6’2.
Fuck. He’s perfect.
After the hug all my dumbass could do was grin and squeak out “hi.”
We made our way to the host and was escorted to our reserved table. From the moment we sat down and were given our menus, I was having a great time.
His voice was milk, not too deep and mesmerizing to listen to. His chill energy was so strong that when I made it apparent that my nerves had a mind of its own, he was cool with it. He considered it as honesty.
Jokes were made and laughter sparked the room. Fun questions were asked and answered in pure understanding. Every now and again there were moments when we just sat in silence with slightly prolonged eye contact. soaking up each other’s energies.
He made a joke about the waiters pouring water and one day just yelling at them to stop and watch their reaction, was it a lowkey shitty thought? Hell yes. Did I lowkey die every time they refilled the water? God, yes.
During the date, I paid attention to his mannerisms. How he folded his hands when the topic was ending, how he leaned back into his sofa seat and stretch his arms over the headboard of our section. Those small movements began to turn me on. Normally my brain wasn’t this aroused this early in the morning but even as the conversation continued, my mind was always rotating back to how he would taste and if his hand would fit in between my neck.
As the date grew to an end, I asked over cold, unfinished eggs and overfilled water glasses, “what happens next?”
My flirtatiousness was finally taking place. He looked enlightened as if he was truly considering a good answer. “Well, that would be a good conversation between us,” he replied. I bit my lip and giggled.
The checks were signed and as we stood up with a glance at the windows he said, “let’s see where life takes us. let’s go somewhere on this sunny day.”
It was like he was reading my spirit. My “get up and let’s see” vibes word for word.
We left and we talked all the way to the train, looking like a chic city couple. He led me to the American Writer’s Museum where we discussed our favorite prose and struggling authors. Seeing that I’ve never been, he became my sexy tour guide. We talked about our dreams and our goals. My lacking inspiration to write was suddenly reborn.
From there we strutted downtown to The Museum of Architectural Design. Most of the exhibits were closed but we made it an adventure anyway, singing Michael Jackson hits and him describing all the parts of the threshold structures and the cathedral ceiling windows.
Around 3 pm we ended the date with us hugging and him going to his father’s house for the Superbowl. Hopping on the green line, I grinned all the way home. It was the best date I ever had.
Fast forward to 4 days after, I haven’t heard from him since that night after the date. We said our good mornings and I casually mentioned a second date as mentioned that day. From there the texting shriveled up. At first, I thought his phone broke as he mentioned to me before but when I jumped on Instagram he was posting as if nothing was wrong.
Reasons 1–8 why I don’t follow new dudes I meet.
I kept calm, he told me he wasn’t glued to his phone because he was always busy but….You posting powerful messages on Instagram?
I groaned inwardly. I knew what this meant but I had to be sure.
I sent another text in the event that he didn’t see the last one. Nothing.
I sent some texts to others to test the timing, he was the only one that didn’t respond.
My mind broke in half. It was such a great date…Did I do something wrong?
Later that night, my spirit was disturbed. Anxiety was high and I wasn’t too sure why. I’ve been ghosted many times before and I was still talking to two other dudes, the fuck was the issue?
I saved myself from the inevitable and unfollowed him on Instagram. The next hour after, he did the same. Well, I see you’re alive. I thought.
I bit my tough skin and DM’ed him, just to see what the hell happened. No response.
I was breaking every Pimp law ever written and every Boss Bitch book ever typed but I didn’t care. I always let shit just slide, letting let the world fix itself until it disappears as I magically spiral into a bullshit reel of sadness.
Nah, not this year.
Something told me to just call him, his phone apparently isn’t broke but he was definitely avoiding me and quite frankly, I wanted to go to fucking sleep.
Heavy breathing with your heart pounding wasn’t the recipe for a good night’s rest.
I left a voicemail and 10 minutes later I got a text from him.
He politely stated that he was only physically attracted to me. While the date went well, that’s all he saw in me. He wasn’t looking any further than that. He also stated that he was trying to find the words to let me know, he apologized for taking so long.
My bumble profile did say “looking for a relationship”. I figured “I don’t know yet” wasn’t the best choice given last year’s monstrosity.
Why take me on a two-part date if you didn’t want a follow-up?
Am I the only one that cuts shit dry from the gate if I’m not interested?
Despite the reality, my heart was at peace and my high-strung anxiety was gone. I thanked him for telling me and he thanked me for asking him. He stated that it showed bravery.
I couldn’t help but grin.
The old me would have just cried herself to sleep with assumptions. I was proud of myself for fully trusting my instinct. I earned myself good sleep that night.
In the end, we become “friends”. He was gonna be my male view on the dating world but in honesty, I kept my distance until I needed him. If he happens to text first then maybe I’ll respond.
– Sade (written during quarantine)
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