Amigxs! For a blog that just started, we surely haven’t kept up with our end of the bargain, and for that–muchas apologies! As the researcher, writer, editor and all the things–it was my computer that died a couple weeks ago.
But long story short, my Macbook died, revived, and now resurrecting a new post. So thank you to the few of you who took the time to send thoughts and oraciones.
Although our tools were down, our research was not. The last two weeks have consisted in significant dating, mad horror stories, and on the brink of jumping off that metaphorical dating roof to only return to Earth–convincing ourselves that we’re better off alone.
But quite calmly and collectively–Tere y Luisa have talked ourselves out of it once again, and will continue on. As horrible as these experiences may be. I guess that’s the challenge to finding love, no?
The last time we touched base, I had just gotten ghosted–pretty hard-core, actually.
For those of you unclear of what “ghosted” means, the simplest definition comes from the DailyUrbanista.com,
“it’s the world’s shittiest break-up method.”
Listen, I was so into both of the guys I was dating at the time. I honestly thought that they were pretty down with all of it too.
Funny how that happens, right?
I kept thinking, “Damn, men are some assholes up in here!”
Turns out, men are not the only one’s guilty of it.
Here is my compañeras experience–
and foo, I forgive you:
It was the first time in a very long time that I decided to get back into the dating life. With my schedule and busy career, the best choice I had at this point, was to meet someone online.
It seemed to be the place to start.
That’s where I met him. Tall, Dark and Handsome him. He reached out to me on one of the many dating platforms I’d signed up for. Our introductions lead to a nice momentum of back and forth–texting niceties throughout the day, and having long conversations on the phone at night. Finally, after a few weeks of numerous texts and calls later, we decided to meet up and see what we were like in person.
First of all, this was my very first date in over eight years y estava…pero nerviosa. So much had changed in the last eight years. I’d gone from being this successful and career-oriented single mujer in her mid-twenties, to a successful, married, young mother–now recently divorced.
“What did I know about the dating world now?” It was scary.
On my drive to the spot of our first meeting, my instincts told me to turn around and go back home. I longed for the comfort of my couch and the fondling of that bottle of red wine that I liked.
“What if I wasn’t ready?” I thought. Reinforcing the same doubts the ladies in the familia would be quick to express over Sunday gossip.
Also, I was concerned about our conversation.
“What if it isn’t as good in person as it was on the phone?”
I didn’t need anyone to talk me in or out of it. I was doing it all on my own.
“You’re a grown ass successful, mujer!” I whispered to myself in my car.
“If I’m not into him, just tell him. Keep it simple! Why you gotta be all scared?”
As I arrived, I quickly noticed Tall, Dark and Handsome–and he appeared just as he was pictured online.
My insides started to turn.
We both said hello, and he gave me a great big hug and an amazing kiss.
Pos bueno. So far so good.
My nerves settled as we decided to watch a movie. But to be honest, we spent the majority of time making out in the dark back aisle of the theater. I hadn’t felt this excited in a long time. Yet, it wasn’t the thing that I was looking for. Or was I?
We moved on to dinner, talking over some cheesy pizza and with the nice kisses continuing into the wee hours of the late night. But I had to put an end to it. I had a big day tomorrow! I can’t be all madrugando and doing the nasty with no care in the world.
The next day he texted me his usual, “good morning, Boo.”
He texted me again later.
For the next three days, he continued to text me–reaching out to me and hoping to hear from me.
I remained silent.
I know. I’m a dick. Some of my good friends wait anxiously by the phone, awaiting impatiently for a phone call or a text from the guy they just met. I hear them out, listening to them share their frustrations–practically ready to give up on love. And here I am–a punk for not answering.
Yes. We had a bien nice date. But to be honest, I felt bleh afterwards. I realized on my drive home that we were having a lot of physical contact but there was no real connection–at least not the connection I was searching for. Or thought I was looking for.
I know I should have told him straight up. I could have also prevented any bad behavior he may have on other mujeres he’ll date after me.
I know all this. But I just couldn’t.
As my prima always says, “be honest, for realz, no lie”
Yeah, I couldn’t be honest, or for realz, or no lie. I ghosted. And I ghosted hard.