In Case You Didn’t Yet Have Your Fill Of Reading About People Getting Dumped…

Welp. It seems 2/3 of the StuCu ladies currently reside in dumpsville.

sad-pug

Source: Mashable

I don’t even know if I can technically call myself dumped, we weren’t exclusively dating. But “that guy I went out with for a little over a month decided our living situations weren’t conducive to dating” is kind of a mouthful. So dumped it is.

Let’s start from the beginning, shall we? I messaged D (maybe we should just avoid guys whose names start with D?), and although it took a little longer than normal to make the first date happen, for a variety of reasons, that first date was great. We hit it off and had a great time. The end of the date was inevitably awkward, but he texted me about 20 minutes later, and he kept in touch while I was down in DC for my best friend’s wedding. He planned a second date based on something he remembered me saying, and we went on a handful of other dates after that. All of them were great, though the ends continued to be a little awkward. At the end of one of our dates I didn’t think he was going to kiss me, so when he moved in for the kiss I was so surprised that I said “Ohh! Ok!”

Smoooooooth!

I’m kind of an awkward person anyway, so none of this was surprising. Despite the awkwardness, things were going well. I was having a really good time with D, I was definitely attracted to him, and he was sweet and thoughtful and funny. Things were normal on what turned out to be our last date, last Saturday. He even started out the date with a little gift. During our date he asked if I would help him with something in a few weeks. We threw around some ideas for stuff to do next time. And for the next 2 days everything seemed good. But then I didn’t hear from him at all on Tuesday, which was unusual. And when I texted him at the end of the work day, his response was brief. Wednesday was the same. Radio silence all day, and no response when I texted him mid-afternoon suggesting an idea for this weekend. This departure from the norm seemed strange, and I even mentioned to S that afternoon that I had a weird feeling that D was going to fade away. I was all:

start panicking

Source: The Ultimate Gif Database

But a few hours later I heard from D, prompting this exchange:

2014-04-25 12.48.31

Ohhhh ME. Not so fast me. Not so fast.

My relief was short lived. A couple texts later I received this:

2014-04-25 13.02.50

That is never a good sign. I knew then what was coming. Like the mature adult I am, I wanted to do this:

Penny

Source: The Ultimate Gif Database

But instead, I said yeah, and a minute later he called me. The gist was: you’re great and I’ve been having a good time with you, but our living situations aren’t making this easy, and that’s not changing for a couple months, so I think we should just go our separate ways.

Blech.

I’ve mentioned before that I moved out to the ‘burbs at the end of last summer. What I haven’t mentioned is that I moved into a fairly unusual living situation – the spare bedroom of some friends, down the hall from their 2 (completely adorable) kids. I had my reasons, and it’s worked out well for the past 8 months. I’ll be moving out at the end of this summer, which was always the plan. A lot of people asked how that might affect my dating life, which I usually shrugged off because I assumed that anyone I started dating would have their own place, with or without roommates.

Enter D, who did have roommates, just not the kind I thought. He currently lives at home. He too has valid reasons for doing so, and has plans to get his own place later this summer. But for now, he’s residing in his childhood bedroom. 

So yeah – our living situations were kinda cramping things a little bit. We had tentatively decided that we would hang out at his house (he’s never seen Arrested Development, which is an actual crime). I don’t really know what made him change his mind about that between Monday, when things were still normal, and Wednesday, when he ended things. Was I super thrilled at the prospect of hanging out at his parents’ house? Obviously not. But I understood why he was living there, and I liked him enough that I was willing to navigate that awkwardness. But he wasn’t, so…

I’m not heartbroken over this. Like S, I didn’t have a feeling like “no – this is wrong, this is a mistake.” But I also didn’t feel like it was right either. Granted it was still early, but I was into him. Following what ended up being our last date on Saturday afternoon, I went on an impromptu first date with another guy (2 dates in 1 day – stay tuned for that story!). And the first thing I did when I got home from that date was text D. Although I had a few reservations (for lack of a better word), that evening date with the other guy made me realize that I really did like D a lot. I think that, had our living situations been different, this might have actually gone somewhere. Who knows where, but I would have liked to explore that possibility. And that’s the part that sucks the most. That the timing was all wrong, so now I’ll never really know what could have been.

Actually, that last part is a lie – it’s tied for most sucky with the fact that, right before D called me, I had just finished making my dinner. My dinner of a spinach, shrimp, avocado and cucumber salad. Though healthy, that’s NOT a good I-Just-Got-Dumped dinner. I hung up D and stared longingly at the box of Kraft Mac & Cheese (spirals obviously – they hold the cheese better) in the cupboard. But that stupid spinach salad was already made. SALAD. Who the fuck wants to eat salad after getting dumped?

Even though I’m not heartbroken, getting rejected sucks. Yesterday started out with a stomach-ache at 9:30 a.m. from eating an embarrassing amount of berry sour patch kids. But I secured tickets to the fall Boston Calling festival, my sister and her boyfriend were in town for the Sox/Yankees game last night so I got to grab a beer and an exlusive Pub sandwich with them before the game, and my sister surprised me with the news that I’ll probably get to drag her deadbeat ex-boyfriend into court (I like to pretend that the fact that I’m a lawyer makes my love of conflict healthy, and not troubling). I couldn’t ask for better cheer-me-ups than those.

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First Date: Drunk Girl

S here, coming at you with my last post as a 28 year old. That’s right, peeps. As of midnight tonight, the sun will officially begin to set on my 20s and I’ll be staring 30 in its mean, spinstery face. Woohoo! Also, a friendly reminder: if you haven’t already, please vote for your favorite worst date ever story here. Voting ends Friday!

Speaking of being a mature adult… do any of you loyal readers recall this lovely tale of first date tipsiness from L? Well last week, as I mentioned, I walked (or should I say stumbled) a mile in her shoes on a first date of my own. Allow me to explain, and by explain I mean post a screen shot of the text I sent D when I got home:

D prohib

It’s a testament to our friendship and to the bond we share that D a. did not bat an eyelash at the fact that I got drunk on a first date and b. was on her way to getting sauced herself after a rough day at work. Meanwhile, somewhere south of us, L was also out drinking heavily. Can you say cosmic connection?

Anyway, a little background on said date. The guy is M, a 36 year old high school teacher from Jersey. M and I had been messaging back and forth for a a few weeks. Things I liked about him: he’s an avid traveler and spends every summer at his family’s beach house in Italy, traveling all over the country and throughout Europe. Yes, you read that correctly. Summer beach house. In Italy. Um, hi. Sign me the f*ck up for that. He also teaches history, which is hot. And is 6’3. HOT. 

Things I wasn’t crazy about: he tried, from the moment we exchanged numbers, to CALL ME. There are few things I hate more than a phone conversation with a dude I’ve never met. I mean, what kind of sociopath wants to voluntarily talk on the phone with a total stranger, unless that stranger is a Comcast customer service team member and the cable is out? Even when the guy has a delicious British accent, it’s still inevitably the most awkward interaction ever. I successfully dodged the first few of M’s phone requests, hoping he’d take a hint, but he KEPT ASKING. I had to actively restrain myself from pulling a Regina George and shutting his Gretchen Weiners bullshit right down:

fetch

And then send him this insane little memo just in case he still didn’t get it:

Instead, I consented to 20 minutes of chatting the night before our date which was, AS PREDICTED, moderately awkward. I hate being right all the time. (Lies. I love it).

The night of our date rolled around, and mama was pretty grumpy. Here’s why:

  • The weird phone prelude freaked me out
  • I’d had a long ass day at work
  • the weather was disgustingly wet and humid, causing my hair to do some pretty unique things

I was just not feeling it. It was one of those days where I I wanted sooooo badly to go home and lay on my couch (aka pretty much every day), but I hate people who flake on plans last minute (ahem) so I dragged my salty self over to the bar.

How did the date go? Glad you asked. Conveniently I text-vomited a full summary to poor, unsuspecting D, which I will again post for your viewing pleasure:

d prohib 2

In case you haven’t noticed, yours truly is quite the drunk texter. I recently claimed (to no one who cared) that I live by the following motto: “When the drinks start flowin’, the fingers get goin’.” I mean, what? Also, it’s almost too easy, but…

Sorry/not sorry. Back to the date. I swear, I have never had my ear talked off by a man like I did with M. From the moment we met he was a Chatty Cathy, going on and on about his job, traveling, friends and family. This was actually a welcome development at first, since I usually have the EXACT opposite problem with dudes and have to essentially perform my own one woman show just to keep the awkward silences at bay. So honestly, up until the end of the night I truly enjoyed M’s chattiness. He was smart and interesting, not obnoxious or annoying.

It wasn’t until we arrived at the aforementioned whiskey bar and I was well on my way to being fully drunk that I realized… M had asked me almost nothing about myself. Literally almost nothing. In all fairness, I’m not exactly a shy wallflower (shocking, I know)  and can hold my own in a conversation, so there were plenty of times when I interjected with something and M listened with interest. So I guess it wasn’t that bad, just… weird. Anyway, on to my drunkenness. We had already had a flight of (delicious) beer at the first bar we went to, and then after revealing to him that I’d recently acquired a taste for whiskey, we decided to trek down the street to a whiskey bar for a “nightcap”. Except we walked in and it was like a budget remake of the Great Gatsby up in that piece. Champagne was a-flowin’. People were dressed in period garb. The normally wildly over-priced drinks were dirt cheap. You can guess what happened next…

Mama got sauced. M had to drive and is also gigantic in stature, so he was essentially fine, but I had 3 more BIG mixed drinks and a glass and a half of champagne. By the end I could hear myself slurring my words and also started to make best friends with our neighbors at the bar, something I only do when drunk. At one point the nice lesbian couple next to me discretely whispered, ‘is this a first date?’ and I practically shouted, so the entire (tiny) bar could hear, “It is a first date! Are we that obvious??” Smooth, S. Smooth.

Smart cookie that I am, I decided that we needed to go before I (further) embarrassed myself. I could at least tell through my haze that M seemed bemused rather than horrified by my antics, so I was confident that my behavior still passed for charming and hadn’t crossed over to fully obnoxious. Yet.But I calculated that I was roughly 15 minutes and half a drink away from this:

kristen-wiig-drunk-gif-sXMz

I announced that M needed to drive me home (in hindsight I was in no state to accept a ride from a strange man but hey, I obviously lived to tell about it. Calm down, mom.) M said he had a great time and would love to go out again (heard that one before!) and then went in for the kiss. It was a bold move, but drunk S was into it. It was actually a really nice first kiss, probably because we were in a warm car and I had a buzz on. But nice nonetheless.

The next morning, hungover and a little embarrassed, I went over the date in my head. And started to get annoyed by M’s apparent lack of interest in my life. I called in some experts, wondering if this was a red flag, but multiple sources told me he was probably either a. nervous (this seems most likely to me) or b. having a REALLY good time and was comfortable enough to open up. Either way, he didn’t berate me or lose his car, so I’m giving him a pass.

M and I have a second date set for Thursday. Let me tell you, there are few things more awkward than dating someone new right around your birthday. You feel like a weirdo not mentioning it at all, but you don’t want them to misunderstand your mention as a request for them to acknowledge it. I am probably ultra sensitive about this because last year I was in this very same position… I’d been seeing a guy briefly, it got out that it was my birthday, and he made a big fuss about it. Basically he INSISTED that we go out to dinner to celebrate even though I was super uncomfortable and told him ‘yeahhh we’re not seriously dating, that is sweet but really not necessary’. But again, he insisted, so I relented, thinking I’d at least get a nice dinner out of it. Then, the night of said dinner rolled around (also the day after my bday!) and this douchenozzle texts me to tell me 1. he was cancelling dinner and 2. didn’t want to see me anymore. Like I’m sorry, WHAT? I NEVER WANTED TO HAVE THIS WEIRD BIRTHDAY DINNER IN THE FIRST PLACE, YOU LUNATIC.

Anyhoodle. Clearly I have birthday date PTSD after that bullshit. So when M (very nicely) referred to this next date as my ‘birthday dinner’ I practically shouted him down in sheer alarm in distress. I just feel like I’m tempting fate by agreeing to this again, even if it is just dinner and even if I SCREAMED that I didn’t want any sort of fuss made over my birthday by someone I literally just met. Let me tell you, if M cancels, you poor readers WILL be hearing about it. Probably in all caps. 

Date rating: 7.5/10. M was a nice, interesting, smart, fun dude and a great kisser, but he talked wayyy too much.

Lesson learned: DRINK LESS. That is all.