It's the most wonderful time of the week! (At least, if you're into knowing too many details about my dating life.) In this installment, we have some misplaced optimism, a lot of self-indulgent feelz, and the phrase "homie g-ness."

Unexpected Developments

The night after I posted my last update, I ended up spending the night at Sam's. The sex was excellent, and he was just generally really great. We texted a bit on Monday (initiated by him). He called just to chat on Tuesday. On Wednesday we got dinner and then watched Firefly/made out at my place. While we were cuddling on my bed, he suggested that we go dancing on Saturday night, and we set a time for him to pick me up.

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And then on Thursday night he called and said that he didn't think this was a good fit. Womp womp.

When I wrote the first version of this post an hour or two after the call, I felt more confused than anything, since in less than 24 hours he went from apparently being totally into me to "not a good fit." I wanted a better explanation but managed to talk myself out of texting him to ask what the deal was. I went to bed a little disappointed but generally fine.

Friday was harder. The last few weeks have not been ideal. I've been slogging through my day job, trying to pretend that I'm not both bored out of my wits and crap at actually getting things done. My Friday evening job started up again this week; I kind of hate that too, but I've been sticking it out because I need the money and it might lead to another job… which I'm not wildly excited about either, but it would be more responsibility than my current job, and it would pay more than $10 an hour. I'm just generally stressed about the fact that I don't know what I'm doing with my life.

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I don't know where things might have gone with Sam. I don't even know where I wanted things to go with Sam. I wanted to see where it could go, but it's totally possible that we ultimately wouldn't have been a good fit, once we got past the first little bit. But for a little while, I had something to look forward to: "Well, work sucks but at least I have a date on Saturday." For a whole week, I woke up not just tolerant of the world but actually happy. And honestly, I liked knowing that someone liked me. My last relationship was three and a half years ago, and it was a three-month thing with my high school crush before we went our separate ways for college. I forgot how nice it is to feel wanted.

All those feelings were doing a lot of the work of carrying me through the rest of the crap, and when they got pulled out from under me, I lost it a little. Some folks on Twitter will have seen me break down on Friday night—I tried not to bother folks too much with my "Oh, woe is me, I'm a pretty 22-year-old white girl who got rejected by someone she'd known for less than two weeks" schtick, but I was kind of a mess.

I'm still daydreaming that he's going to call and say he was an idiot and would I go out with him again, but I know that's not going to happen. I'm still a little sad—I keep waking up and thinking about him, and then remembering that I shouldn't be thinking about him. I still really wish I'd asked for more of a reason when I had him on the phone, but it would be even weirder to ask now. (It also bothers me just a little bit that I'll never know why he only has one testicle, since I didn't ask when I had the chance and that's REALLY not the kind of thing you ask over text after the fact.)

I will say, though, that I made the right decision by waiting until after college to date. On Friday night, my lizard brain tried its hardest to convince me that I'm never going to find anyone or amount to anything, and that I'm just a self-pitying airhead with dreams of grandeur who might as well not even bother trying. It failed. I know that I'm smart and caring and interesting and attractive, and my lizard brain won't succeed in making me believe otherwise. My first two years of college—the only time when I really could have dated—were a shitshow, and I would have believed every nasty lie my lizard brain whispered to me. It means a lot that even if I occasionally cry on the bus home from work and spend the night hugging my stuffed pig and going "I can't I can't I can't I can't," I know that I actually can.

Tl;dr: I got rejected, and it sucks, and I'll get over it. And I desperately need a new job.

But! This is good for you, because it means that I'm still on the prowl and you get proper OKC Diaries again. Plus I cleaned my apartment before he came over, so at least I got that out of it.

Date #5

We'll call this next guy Mark. (I understand the appeal of a boring, name/initial-based username, but it really isn't very interesting for my purposes here.) Mark's initial message said something about how everyone stresses about their future career (god, is it that obvious even from my profile?!), noted that we have a lot in common, and asked if I'd like to get coffee some time. I'm not usually a fan of that—I like to exchange at least a few messages first—but it worked in this case. Our profiles did indeed match up very nicely: He's a big fan of sci-fi, loves all food, is a feminist, and seems to care about the world. Our answers to most questions matched up neatly. We decided to meet this afternoon for coffee.

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And then yesterday evening he said that "something came up and my family and I really have to take care of it," so we're going to have to postpone until an undefined time in the future. We'll see if that actually happens or if he's just a lying liar who lies. In any case, he lives way the heck out in the 'burbs, so if it doesn't work out I'm sure I'll survive.

I've been messaging back and forth with another guy but neither of us have suggested meeting yet, which leaves me with no actual dates to describe in this update. Better luck next week, I guess.

The Rest

The above message is from a 64% match. I think my favorite part is the word choice: Why do I think I'm a feminist, as if I've done some WebMD-style self-diagnosis to come up with that label. I'm also amused by the knowledge that he had to actually read my profile to come up with that starter.

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I can't decide how I feel about "clever" conversation starters like "If you were on Jeopardy and Alex Trebek let you pick the categories, what would you choose?" I mean, it's better than "hey how r u" and arguably better than "Hi, have you read anything good lately?" because it's at least fairly unique. (I've actually put a note in my profile saying not to ask me that last question, because I usually just don't care enough to answer it. I'm probably not very good at OKC.) If I actually answered it, it could potentially start an interesting conversation. But I just feel no real pull to answer the question, or even to click on the guy's profile to see if he's worth responding to.

This next guy is obviously just messing around, since he was from California initially and is now from Halifax.

I got this message right around the same time as the one above, and I was apparently just not taking anything from OKC bros on Thursday night.

From a guy whose name actually is Sam:

Learn to use a period properly, bro. I considered writing back with something like, "I'm single because I've skinned and eaten my last six lovers. What about you?" but I figured it would just encourage him.

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The guy who told me about the rave where someone died (from two weeks ago) messaged me again after I didn't respond. ("Was that last adventure a little too exciting?") I responded saying I hadn't really been on OKC much; he responded back; I ignored my messages for a week and a half while I was distracted by Sam but sent him a message on Thursday night. He responded quickly and I really don't know if I care enough to respond again. I'm sure he's a lovely guy, but his conversation skills leave something to be desired.

Finally, I came across a profile that included the phrase, "I like to think my ascot collection makes me cool."

On that note, I'll see you next week.