Well it certainly looks like the pool–I mean bathtub has dried up. I haven’t been on a date in nearly a month. This is not terribly strange because I’ve been buy and travelling and ill, but the sad thing is, I have barely met/talked to anyone I want to go on a date with. OKC is empty; Tinder is dead; even the guys writing to me on the blog are turning out to be horrifyingly childish and entitled. It’s enough to make a girl give up I tell you.
I mean look at this chap. He wrote me some time ago, and we were emailing. He wanted to talk on the phone; I said no because I generally don’t like it, and I tend to be businesslike and to the point and then they get all upset because YOU ARE BEING RUDE AND YOU DON’T WANT TO TALK TO ME. And then I get annoyed because hello I don’t owe you anything and it all disintegrates fast. Anyway, we compromised with chat and we did chat a bit but he’s busy I’m busy it’s all a bit desultory. The busy-ill-travelling phase kicked in. His replies were delayed, as were mine. I came back from trip home and he sent me an email a couple of days later, replying to something I’d sent 8 days before that. And then that night he texts me to ask ‘Ssup’, and I tell him I’m just unwinding and watching TV. ‘I sent you a mail,’ he tells me, and I tell him that I’d seen it and I’d reply when I had some time the next day. ‘Ok now isn’t that arrogant ;)’ came the response.
To say I was annoyed is putting it mildly. Where is this school these boys go to that teaches them that the universe owes them everything the very second they want it? Apparently I had called him arrogant in an early email (I checked; no such thing) and he is unable to let it go. So he feels the need to point out that I am being arrogant by telling him I’ll write to him when I have the time. I tell him I don’t owe him time, attention or replies and say bye. Then he comes out with a long message about how heh heh he’s only joking yaar, just making a point because I’d called him arrogant. Eyeroll. I decide I’m done with this child.
Only he won’t stop texting me. Hey. Hey. Hey. Hey. Finally I tell him I don’t want to talk to him or date him sorry, and bye. Two days later a message pops up from another number saying the old one died. So I tell him again. Then he starts off about he was hurt because he sent me the link to his blog and I didn’t read it (I did, but it’s about sports and it bored me to death) and it wasn’t cool; I could have just told him I didn’t want to read it instead of lying and then not reading it. So I told him I did and was bored, and that I was going to block him because he clearly wasn’t going to take no for an answer.
Guess what he did next?
That’s right, he smsed me! I was in shock. And no, he didn’t send me one message, he sent me nine messages! Several of which were two or three texts long. He told me he was hurt ‘when you went out with that African while my mail wan’t even responded to’, and then after whining and railing some more, asked me why I decided not to go out with him. So I told him, again, that I make the choices about who I date, not him, I don’t owe him time, attention or replies, and I don’t want to date him because he’s entitled and demanding, he doesn’t respect my space and time, and now can’t seem to accept a no. More sentiment came my way, and finally I told him to just accept this with grace and stop texting me. Then I got two messages that accepted that. And then one more screed giving me advice and telling me his life has been tough lately, and ‘mind u that African is in all probability having wrong motives’.
Never in my life have I regretted giving someone my number so much. Some time later I got another text apologising for the drama. Okay, I thought to myself, we’re done. But no, some time later I got another screed, this one asking me to forget that sentence that made him sound pushy and explaining the joke and the arrogant and how he’s great in person all over again.
I think part of the reason I’m writing this is because I hope that he reads it and perhaps understands where my exasperation is coming from, but also it feels like the only way to begin to accept the horror that is dating for women like me. It makes me consider getting a PhD so I can run away to another country and escape all this clinging and needing. If this had been a woman can you imagine the abuse and mockery she’d have garnered? Would most guys have engaged with her at all past that first stage? But this guy is going to go on thinking I’m a selfish unfeeling bitch, which maybe I am, and not stop to think about his own behaviour and what might have been wrong with it, while that girl? Everyone and their cousin would have told her she was being crazy.