One of my closest and dearest friends told me years ago, that fools eliminate themselves.
Like just watch and listen and they will talk themselves out of your life, panties, etc., because they are so ridiculous, you just can’t fathom yourself dealing with them.
I’m going to tell the full story and hold myself accountable.
This dude I was supposed to be going out on a date with who I already figured was a hot mess, has been pressing me for a booty photo.
I have a wonderful plentiful butt. I get compliments on it. Fine.
He wasn’t satisfied with the lovely photos of my face. He just had to know if I had an awesome body.
I wasn’t going to do it. I haven’t sent booty pics in a few years, and when I did it was for long distance boyfriends who missed it like a best friend.
So basically there was a text exchange. He keeps calling me guarded and it’s so hard to get close to me.
We talked on the phone for the first time ever in life last night. And sent a few messages.
Getting to know someone takes time. It just does.
I almost wish he’d cut the crap now and say,
I want to say all the things you want to hear, because frankly I want to smash. But because I think you are intelligent and classy, if I say that, I know you’ll shut me down.
I’m patient enough to bear with your Victorian prudish ass, because the most difficult ass is the most satisfying.
But no. He won’t do it.
So when I called him on it and said don’t make me out to be a Victorian prude we just talked yesterday, and one day does not a close relationship make, I get a voicemail.
This cat cancels our date and says we should postpone until it seems like I feel more comfortable… My translation: more open to the idea of letting him hit.
We have a control freak and a freak freak on our hands people.
This dude has a particular pace in his head of where he thinks this should be going if we are having good conversation and I guess this dude was thinking he was on pace to smack it, flip it rub it down within the next two weeks.
I won’t say I got played.
I laid all of this out in the previous blog. I knew he was ridiculous. I was just waiting for him to eliminate himself. I was waiting for him to lose his cover of being this nice guy who wasn’t a shallow gym meat head that couldn’t spell for shit. I wanted to show myself that my gut is right and to trust it from here on out.
So, I could either just fade him out.
Or call him back and let him know that I don’t think I’m the woman he’s looking for.
I’m fun. Ask my friggin friends. Fun as hell.
I can be crass.
I love Ghostface.
I can be sexual, downright nasty. Shameful. Ask my boyfriends and lovers.
But I’m not sharing any of that with someone after a few messages and a phone call.
He gave some sorry spiel about not wasting each other’s valuable time and he feels we shouldn’t force a date if I’m not all the way comfortable because he wants the date to be awesome.
Whatever. You want to get some.
Wanna see the messages we exchanged to end it all? I know you do. I love yall so.
Me: I got your message. I’m still at work so I didn’t want to call back. You are cool, but I don’t think I’m the woman you really want. I can be honest about that. I’m guarded for a number of reasons. I was engaged and it didn’t work out. I’ve worked hard on myself to heal. I haven’t had sex in a year and when I do, I want it to be epic and I want to be comfortable.
I think you have a very clear vision of where you want things to go and i applaud your ability to do that. I don’t think I’m going to get on your pace in a time frame that is satisfactory to you. So it’s ok if we don’t hang. I enjoyed talking to you, but the more I think about it, you don’t want the kind of girl I am. I’m just me and I accept that.
Him: You see me? I’m Hot! Prudes are no fun, holler at me when you want to relax and get acquainted. boo.
Him: I’m bored. I won’t give you my attention anymore. Good bye. Next… lol.
Me: And there it is! Thank you.
Him: No fun! And your prudish. LOL Peace.
Him: Be good and take care. Your very prudish.
Him: Date women ma. I’m gone. Like the last guy now. Learn to act right, really?
Me: Thank you for confirming who you are and what you are about. I shared something honest about myself to give you some insight and you are carrying on like you are. It’s ok. It’s clear, I’m not your type. We can end the convo.
Him: What am I doing? You’re not even sexy! Geze! Yuck! Prude girl with no ass! Lol
Him: I’m too cute for you. now that I really look closely to you. Do your hair and hit the gym boo, peace.
I think in his texts, this fool went through all of the stages of grief in less than 15 minutes. That has to be a record.
Welp. Here we go. I’m back in the dating world. I didn’t even have to go get a drink to get that dose of cold water to the face.
Years ago, if this would have happened, I would have tried to prove to this man just how cool I was and how prudish I was not and I would have been miserable.
I dodged a bullet and a potential STD on this one. Go me.
This is progress.
I could have pretended that I’m above doing stupid things and I’m better than letting a man like this even have some of my time, but I wrote this blog to hold myself accountable and to keep record that I don’t have to put up with anyone’s shit and that I should always trust myself above all else, because I’m right. What I feel is correct.