Ladies and gentleman, call me Alex Ovechkin, because I just gave the girls of StuCu blog our very first hat trick.
That’s right, after getting up the courage to admit to myself, and of course, the blogosphere, that I actually might like Basketbro T, he’s gonna go ahead and dump me Sunday morning, post sleepover at my apartment.
I don’t know. I mean, is this the universe’s way of punishing us for having a dating blog? (IF YOU ARE READING THIS AND YOU SAID YES, GO AWAY BECAUSE I’M ‘MOTIONAL AND CANNOT DEAL WITH YOU RIGHT NOW). More likely, it’s just an extremely unfortunate coincidence that is so absurdly depressing, it is actually a bit funny.
I mean, over at StuCu, we’re nothing if not dramatic.
So, let’s get right to it and answer the important questions about Dumping #3:
Wait a second, who is this guy? And why is he “Basketbro T”?
In five sentences or less…
He’s a guy I’ve been seeing since the beginning of March. He lived in a hideous suburb 40 mins from DC. Best things about him were: his sense of humor, down to earthiness, and his competence/reliability in making plans. It also didn’t hurt that he was a cutie. Per our new blog protocol, I decided to call him Basketbro T because he loves college basketball and actually writes for a sports blog as a side hustle. I could have picked a more pejorative, alliterative nickname, but because he’s a nice guy, and, at the end of the day, I’m a classy girl, I’ll stick with Basketbro.
That was 6 sentences. Keep it short L; some of us are reading this at work. Now, what went wrong?
Look, I never though this guy was “the one” or anything. In fact, I kept describing him as mediocre to my girlfriends, and while it’s well documented I have a fetish for that sort of thing (and sports bloggers for that matter! Can you believe this is the SECOND SPORTS BLOGGER I’VE DATED? Watch out Kevin Durant, because I’m thinking of just upgrading to straight-up athletes), I knew I could never be with someone who so wholeheartedly did not challenge me at all. And while it was bad enough he lived in the suburbs, Basketbro T also feared and hated the city. I mean, the first time he came over to my apartment, he made me walk him to his car, which was parked a block away, at 2:30 a.m. And I live in a pretty nice part of DC. And I had to put pants AND a coat AND shoes on to walk him out.
Well, I was determined to get Basketbro over his fear of the city, so last weekend I planned a bar crawl for us through some of my favorite neighborhoods. Thus far, he had taken initiative to plan all of our dates, and I figured, if this was going to work, I was going to need to pull my weight in the planning department. (This is extremely rare, btw, because usually men think “planning” a date involves sending a text saying something like: “What do you want to do? What time is good? Any place you have in mind? What should do I with my life?”)
But when Basketbro came by on Saturday, something was just…different. Maybe it was his body language? Maybe I just have a great sixth sense?
Well, not THAT great, but you get my gist. I immediately knew something was off.
But we went on our bar crawl and he was an enthusiastic participant (for the most part). And, he spent the night. But, when we said goodbye the next morning, and he got in his car, I just got the feeling I wouldn’t see him again.
So instead of just walking away, I turned around and knocked on his window.
Basketbro T: (Opens car door) Do you need a ride?
L: No silly, I live here. I just have this weird feeling that this is the last time we’ll see each other and I’d rather just get this conversation over with now than hash it out over text/phone later.
Basketbro T: (Sighs). Yeah…you’re right. It’s just the distance is a little much for me. And I don’t feel like we see each other enough. If I am going to take it to the next level with a girl, I need to see her more.
Basketbro T: Plus, it feels the spark is kinda fizzling out.
L: That sounds right to me. I kind of anticipated this last night.
Baksetbro T: You’re a good person. You deserve to find someone who lives closer to you.
L: Thanks. You too. Good luck to you.
Wow. What a mature conversation. So, how do you feel about the whole thing?
The minute he drove away, of course, I called S and cried. Sure, I knew deep down that I wasn’t that into him, and honestly, I probably would have ended it in a date or two for the same reasons. But it sucks to feel rejected, especially by a short, suburbs-dwelling auditor who wore oversize shirts and feared the mean streets of Northwest DC. I couldn’t help but think:
Also, I was somewhat hurt by the fact that homeboy was about to drive off and probably never contact me again, or send me a two line rejection text in a couple days. He and I had been out enough times that we’d discussed dating and relationships a bit, and I had made it super clear how much I disdained fadeaways and other cowardly behavior. I feel like I shouldn’t have had to demand the explanation I deserved.
Lastly, I am just disappointed that this wasn’t what I wanted it to be, which was a fun relationship where both of us were super into each other. Third, fourth, and subsequent dates are SO MUCH BETTER than first dates, and I’d be a liar if I said I was nothing but dreading getting out there again.
But I know, in a few
weeks days, my attitude will adjust and that’ll change. And, the good news for you, readers, is that we will have some new stories for you about guys verbally abusing us over frozen yogurt or losing their cars on first dates.
Ugh. This story is kinda dull because you behaved in such a well-adjusted, adult way. Are you sure you didn’t do anything crazy with Basketbro T?
Ah, you know me too well! The previous week, I was carelessly performing a little twitter stalking on my phone between episodes of Pretty Little Liars (#bestshowever #mosthashtagsever) and accidentally FAVORITED one of Basketbro T’s tweets! From my personal account, which is basically, MY NAME. About something completely weird and irrelevant to me. I mean, could I be more of a social media butterfingers? Luckily, S reassured me, before revoking my StuCu social media privileges:
What made it more awkward is Basketbro T never called me out on it. I don’t know if this is because he never got a notification (I immediately unfavorited it when I realized my mistake) or because he was so weirded out he just wanted to pretend like it didn’t happen.
Readers, wherever you are and whenever you read this, I encourage you to take a moment and pour one out for the ladies of StuCu and our utterly awkward and humiliating spring season.
Think of it as a collective toast to a better summer. For all of us.