This week: Another guy disappears, I go on a terrible date, and the Brit gets into the gif-making business.
My pride would like to say that the Mad Scientist texted me earlier this week and I turned him away, but in reality I haven’t heard from him since last Saturday’s failed attempt to get him to come over. It is what it is, I guess.
Remember Francois? Well, I’m pretty sure our second date was some sort of karmic punishment for me giving him such a terrible nickname, because it was not good at all. Out of the 17 first or second dates I’ve been on so far, this is the only one I would actually say was bad. Can I imagine much worse dates? Definitely, and I’ve been lucky so far to avoid them. But this one was definitely not good.
We met up after work for a movie—What We Do in the Shadows, which is a vampire mockumentary that was actually pretty funny—and in the ten minutes between when he showed up and when the movie started, we managed to run out of things to say. And then in the five minutes it took us to walk up to the street after the movie finished, we managed to run out of things to say again. But for the sake of appearances, we got pizza at a place right down the street and forced another awkward half hour of semi-conversation.
He seems perfectly nice and interesting, and our first date went well enough. I don’t know if it’s just that we’re both not great at starting conversations so it just never really picked up, or if we just didn’t click, or what the deal was, but it was really just a string of uncomfortable silences with a little bit of small talk in between.
A sign of how awkward it was: Every other second date I’ve been on so far has involved kissing. Either we kissed on the first date, or at some point during the second date he made a move. This date ended with us awkwardly hugging on the street corner and then going our separate ways. He didn’t even try, I figured because he too recognized how weird it was.
I say “I figured,” past tense, because I got a “Happy almost Friday!” text from him on Thursday night. I responded in the morning and we had a brief “how are you”-type conversation, but nothing much. If he asks me out again, I’m going to say we just aren’t right for each other; if he doesn’t, I have no plans to initiate contact with him again.
As we were chatting about whether it would be better to live in the Harry Potter universe or the Pokémon universe (Harry Potter, duh), the Brit managed to find my MPFBonnet twitter account. After initially freaking out a little bit, I told him what I’ve said before—that I don’t mind if he reads what I write, but I’d like him to tell me if he does so. This was his response:
I really do appreciate that despite his well-established inclination toward nosiness, he’s willing to leave this space alone. Because he’s right—I like to think that I would still write everything the same, but it probably would change things to know that he’s reading these posts (or, heaven forbid, my stream-of-consciousness Twitter feed).
And seriously. Such a dork.
One of our friends from last week came back. I am shocked, shocked I tell you, to see that this guy no longer has an account:
Why do people answer questions this way? For folks who aren’t acquainted with OKC, you can choose which answers you’ll accept from a match. Answers that show up in red are ones the other person has marked unacceptable.
Might as well start planning the wedding now:
Also got a message from a guy who’s halfway to Baltimore (getting better, but still not close enough) and one who sent a decent message but his whole profile is just jokes. Dude, you need to tell me something about yourself. At least pretend like you’re trying.
Will be going on a date next week with the very Groupthink-y person I mentioned last week, but I think it’s just going to be a friend-date since I’m really not sure I’m down with the open relationship thing.
I think I may need to do some more quickmatching soon. Not that it actually led to anything good last time, but it’s worth a shot.
Until next week, keep on being dorks, everyone.