catfish

Anatomy of a liar.

This one really made me angry. Bryon wasn’t a catfish in the traditional sense, but he was fishing for something, with no intent to catch this fish.

I knew he was lying about something, right from the beginning – I will tell you why shortly. But being focussed on that lie prevented me from noticing the other signs of a catfish right away.

Perhaps the most frustrating thing for me is to meet someone who was what I seek. You know, if not for the whole douchebag thing. He was intelligent, accomplished, and interesting. But he was an intellectual bully.

He was also likely married. Or at the very least, nowhere near as single as he professed. Continue reading

catfish

They aren’t catfish, Part 2

Part One – being catfished

A couple of days of texting later, I asked whether he wanted to meet for a coffee or drink. He said yes, but he didn’t “really know” where I was. When I said my precise location didn’t matter, he called me “miss spy”. We made plans to meet after work that Friday, and our texting for the next day was perfectly normal.

That was Tuesday.

He didn’t text again.

On Saturday, the day after our supposed date, I texted “what happened to us going out yesterday after work” and he replied the next day “I don’t know, I never heard back you disappeared for two days.” He said he wanted to try again. Continue reading

The dirty poet.

The man who referred to himself as a poet peppered his texts with “you’re such a little sweetheart” and sunflower emojis. When we met at a downtown bar for an after-work drink, my first thought was he might be bisexual. He had that way about him.

He’s in his mid-fifties and after ending his 25-year marriage, he got a tattoo, a nipple ring, and earrings in both ears. He’s in the film industry in an artistic role.

When I departed that first date, he stayed seated on the barstool, we hugged and he gave me what I would call a quick peck on the lips. Later, he professed via text how excited that kiss got him. He said he felt a spark.

Huh?  Continue reading

I’m recovering. Kinda.

This is going to be short. It’s late at night, I’ve had too much red wine, I’m tired, sad, and my gut hurts.

I had my gallbladder out a week ago. Those of you who follow me on Instagram would know, but I didn’t write about it. I’ve been recovering and just went back into the office today. I experienced a common after-effect of surgery – depression – which thankfully didn’t last but was disconcerting regardless.

The sadness lingers but yesterday I could finally feel it starting to lift. My middle still hurts but each day is an improvement. Bruce has been in touch most days to send me wishes that I’m feeling better. It comforts me he’s been in touch – perhaps he wasn’t lying about it not being me. He’s been consistent in that he’s not calling, not having long conversations. Which is fine. Continue reading

Filling my time.

The first line I wrote for this post was “I’m much better than I used to be at not wasting my time with men.”

I stared at it. Erased it twice.

As much as its true that I don’t waste my time with bullshit online anymore – if I know a man doesn’t want what I want, I don’t bother – I could argue I wasted a lot of time with Tony. Continue reading

Where my brain went when Bruce disappeared

Bruce evaporated Friday night. His radio silence was highly unusual. I’ve tried to recreate the mental paths I went down during this time, so my actions are contextualized. My Mom and my friends generally concurred with my analysis and helped me figure out what to do. One friend was convinced he’d ghosted or was lying about being single, but she was the exception. I promised myself if either of those were true, I would take a real break from dating. I was 90% sure he’d lost his phone, but that remaining 10% thought something serious had happened. 

7am Saturday

Hmm that’s weird he hasn’t texted me yet. He said he was going to sleep early, so not replying last night is feasible. But he always sends good morning texts.

Let me check Whatsapp.

Oh, he hasn’t been online there since last night 6:20pm. Guess he did crash early. Continue reading

The pursuit of Kyle.

I’ve avoided writing about him, but granted there is little to say. I’ve admitted I can’t get him out of my head – the man with whom I have three great times together, physical and intellectual chemistry, and who has a terrible track record of bailing on dates.

Kyle.

His appeal to me isn’t the chase; he’s on the surface very close to what I’m looking for, with some added bonuses. Crazily tall, dark, and handsome. A good job and unthreatened by mine, long-ago divorced with a good relationship with his ex, a family man who has taken his Mom on vacations. Intellectual banter and humor. Great kissing chemistry. And although I haven’t seen it, he seems to be packing a lot in his pants. Continue reading

Tony got BUSTED, part 2

Previous Post

Tony and I have had two short conversations about his again-wife finding out about us (side note: yes, she’s his wife, again. I’m honestly afraid if I just call her his “wife” I’m going to get trolled like crazy, and the truth is they were separated when I met him).

In the first discussion, he told me she’d found out about Jamaica. I was confused because it seemed an odd “discovery” at this time, 14 months ago after we went. I asked how it was possible that us seeing each other after the sports game could possibly have led to that.

He was vague. He said “Ann, I don’t want to relive it again right now. There was a lot of screaming and crying.” Continue reading

our first dinner date

Kyle the tall man texts

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With the feedback I’d gotten from my friends, I was trying my hardest to not assume ‘s Kyle’s lack of confirmation 24 hours in advance meant anything. We had confirmed a date and a time, just not a place. I was fairly certain he was interested in meeting and he didn’t strike me as the type to just bail.

Maybe.

I was mildly irritated because it was helpful to be able to plan in the morning what the hell I was doing after work. But I realized the way to deal with it was to just go about my arrangements, knowing it wasn’t a big deal, and based on what I knew we weren’t likely to meet downtown where I worked anyway. So either way, I was going home after my personal training session. Continue reading

i didn't hesitate to tell Tony all my grievances

The wrath of Ann

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I have chronic shoulder and neck pain; have probably never mentioned it. It’s stress and posture related, and I was in agony that night. I opened a bottle of prosecco with a goal of getting a little drunk before he showed up. Feeling dramatic, I chose to make the cocktails we had on our first date. Prosecco, ginger liqueur, and orange curaçao. Gorgeous drink. It hurt emotionally to make it.

I wanted all the pain and anger to wash over me. I hadn’t ever really let it all out, I always let Tony’s intentions limit my responses to his actions. In other words, I’ve always told myself since he didn’t intend to hurt me, I could get over it. I have been ultra understanding and kind, this whole time.

But it would be the same thing as me saying HWSNBN’s behavior was okay because he loved me desperately. And I certainly didn’t allow it in that case. Continue reading