Dating and Dickpics: Episode 12

As you can tell, my quest for love is still ongoing as we are now into our 12th episode of the tales of my tragic love life.

The past month has seen many different changes and dates. I have a new job which I’m looking forward to starting so I’ve been out and about a fair bit before I settle into the routine of the 9-5 life. I’m also writing a book! That’s the most exciting news, really. It’s going to take me a while but I’m chipping away at it every day. I’m actually shocked at the level of self-discipline I have. I mean, I’ve even held off watching Grey’s Anatomy because I dedicate my afternoons to writing, leaving evenings for watching TV.

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It seems like I do have a story and it’s getting published

Unfortunately, I haven’t had the same luck in my love life. I gave a guy I dated once a second chance…and he blew it. He contacted me recently after going AWOL for a few months. I told him that yes we had chemistry, but I was still unsure about him because he just disappeared and went radio silent for months. He told me he still liked me and wanted to take me out on a date so I agreed. Everything was fine, even up until the night before. We were talking and he was saying just how much he was looking forward to seeing me the next day.

I woke up the next morning feeling positive. He hadn’t called or texted to say he couldn’t make it so the date was still happening. I picked out my outfit, got ready and headed off to the tube station to hop on the next train to King’s Cross. When I was around 10 minutes away from that tube stop, I texted him saying I was on time and I’d meet him at Covent Garden at 3.30pm like we had agreed.

Then shit hit the fan. He texted me, telling me not to ‘leave home’ when I clearly already had. He said he was still at work. I asked what time he was going to finish — if it was a couple of hours, I could easily kill time in a bar or something. No, he was going to finish at 5pm. I told him I could do some shopping and wait until he was ready, then we could just grab dinner and some drinks. He said no, that we should reschedule and he would be too tired and too moody to go on a date after work.

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REALLY?

So let’s get this straight. He knows it takes me an hour to get to King’s Cross. He knew I would leave my house at 2.30pm. He didn’t inform me then that in fact, he couldn’t leave work at 1pm like his boss said he could. He would’ve known by 2.30pm that he was working late and couldn’t make the date. So why didn’t he inform me? I was livid. I’d wasted all that time and make up and he had actually stood me up. I’ve never been stood up in my life. I was so fuming that I was on the verge of tears (I do that annoying angry-cry thing). It was so rude, unacceptable and inconsiderate. I turned around and made my way back home. On my journey, I texted him and told him he shouldn’t dare to contact me again, that he’s a fuckboy and no, we won’t reschedule, because he’s rude and he can go to hell in a handcart. I actually wanted to let go and call him every name under the sun, but I’m too classy for that…somehow.

My mum and brother were super supportive. My brother, who is actually a really chilled out guy, said that he was appalled that I’d been stood up and that he was furious on my behalf. He also said that I should’ve joined him and his wife as they were only a few tube stops away and they would’ve gladly dished out tea and sympathy. However, I knew if I had taken them up on their generous offer, I probably would’ve burst into tears and I really just wanted to go home and get cuddles from my mum instead.

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My mum’s hugs are epic

I also went on a couple of dates with another guy, but that didn’t lead anywhere. Well, that was my decision really. I think that having been on so many first dates, I’ve fine-tuned my list of what I want from a guy and that means making tough decisions and not compromising on anything at all. I have high standards and people often remark that because of said high standards, I’ll probably be alone, but I’d rather be alone than settle for someone who makes me compromise on things that I really can’t compromise on. I still hold out some hope that I may find love, but it may take a lot longer than I thought. I could quite easily date someone who isn’t right for me for the sake of it, but that wouldn’t be fair to the other person. It’s better to be single and continue the search.

There is another man on the cards though. It’s all hush-hush at the moment and I won’t be spilling the tea any time soon. I don’t want to jinx it because this may actually have potential, but we’ll have to see what happens in due course.

In other news:

  • I’ve already started writing my book. It’s going pretty well, if I do say so myself.
  • I’m having a mini-staycation back in Exeter at the end of November (and if any of you are still there, hit me up so we can arrange something). I cannot wait to go back and rediscover my love for that place.
  • Unfortunately, there was a huge fire in Exeter which means I won’t be visiting one of my favourite places there because it’s been burnt down to a cinder. At least I’ll always have the memories.
  • Reminiscing about Exeter has made me realise just how hard it is to get decent cider in London. I’ll be drinking a lot of cider that weekend.
  • I’m working on Halloween so I can’t celebrate it, but I came to the conclusion that if I was celebrating, I’d have dressed up as The Joker.
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This is my aesthetic #goals

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Dear Fuckboy

Dear Fuckboy,

I really thought everything was going well. We’d been talking for well over a month and we had that spark that I’d been missing with everyone else I’d spoken to. I finally had the courage to put myself out there after so long; I’ve been bitten more times than I care to remember and I was so shy as a result. But you seemed worth it. The banter was great and your texts always made me smile. I remember being frightfully nervous just before our first date. I was panicking on the train to Covent Garden where we planned to meet.

Our date couldn’t have gone better. I remember, in between giggles and sips of cocktails, thinking ‘this is the best date I’ve been on’. You were exactly what you had promised you’d be: you were funny, charming and a good conversationalist. I went home that evening on cloud nine. We texted each other when we got home to see if we’d both reached safely and you told me you had a great time.

The next week was more of the same. We relayed sweet and silly texts to one another, both dreaming about our next date the following weekend.

Then something happened. Something happened and you never gave an explanation. I gave you the benefit of the doubt, believing that you’re ill or busy, so I let it slide. You had told me you were unwell previously so I texted to see if you were okay as I was worried. You told me you were fine and that I needn’t worry about you. So I didn’t.

Then I texted you the following day, asking how it was going as you were ill and presumably at work. I didn’t get a reply all day. After hours of overthinking (thanks to my anxiety, which you know I have), I decided to give in and ask if you if you were no longer interested in me, because that was how it was feeling considering you had been online and waved it around in my face, read my text and not replied. I somehow went to bed and fell asleep, with some false hope that you would’ve replied that morning. Pretty much everyone around me was saying that you’d lost interest because you don’t read someone’s texts and not reply for the whole day.

The next morning came. The only texts I had received were from my best friends. I texted you to tell you that I got it, it’s over, but you could’ve had the decency to tell me. You read that message and didn’t dignify it with a response.

For someone who is older than me, I have to applaud just how mature you behaved! Maturity is, after all, ignoring someone you asked to be your girlfriend the week before. Maturity is not clearly stating that you were no longer interested. Maturity is leading a woman on for over a month and then opting for radio silence.

You told me you were different. You begged me for a chance, for a date. You promised you were different from all the rest, that you meant what you said, that you would never lie. You promised that you’d never hurt me.

Really, you were exactly like the others. In fact, you were worse, because other fuckboys never lied to me like you did.

So goodbye, dear fuckboy. Thanks for diminishing my trust in men just that little bit more. Thanks for making me second-guess everything the next man who tries to date me says and does. Thanks for making me feel like I’m not worth someone’s time. Thanks for making me believe that finding a genuine, good man is just a myth.