It was October 2017, a night like practically any other. I matched with a cute guy named Mike on Tinder, and we started chatting. Fairly par for the course, right? The witty banter was good, the conversation flowed easily, we moved to text. Again, par for the course.
As the conversation progressed, we talked about our Halloween costumes (Him: Donnie Darko. Me: Barbie and the Rockers). He asked if I'd want to get drinks sometime. And then ... he disappeared. This wasn't that shocking, since I'd say 8 times out of 10, the conversation stops before you ever actually meet. So I just deleted the number and moved on.
Imagine my surprise when, six months later, we matched again — this time on Bumble. To be honest, I had forgotten him. But he remembered matching with me, and remembered our conversation, which I recollected after he reminded me. Again, we moved to text. Again, we talked about meeting. This time, we did.
I invited Mike over for a drink. (Yes, I knew what that actually meant. Yes, I was okay with it.) We had a glass of wine. We continued the witty banter that seemed to come so easily to us. We hooked up. This many years later, I have to say, I really don't remember whether it was good or bad — which means I suppose it was fine. Good enough for me to be interested in seeing him again, not so good that it made any lasting impression on me. We parted ways amicably, said we would keep in touch and hang out again soon.
The next week, I was invited to the premiere of Amy Schumer's movie, I Feel Pretty. Mike and I had still been talking, and we'd seen each other again. I thought it would be fun to take him as my date, so I asked him, and he responded with a resounding yes. We had an incredible time. I am not sugarcoating it or exaggerating when I tell you that it was one of the best dates I've ever been on. We were inseparable all night, to the point that my other friends at the premiere told me we made a cute couple and asked how long we'd been dating — and they were shocked when I said we'd only been hanging out for a week or so. Mike was super attentive all night, our conversation was (as always) easy and fun, the premiere was excellent. I couldn't have hoped for a better way for the night to end up.
After our date, Mike got distant. He texted me the next day, said he wanted to go out that weekend, and then never texted me again. I texted a couple times to ask what had happened, why he had ghosted me after I took him to the premiere, what his problem was. No response — so then I just moved on. After all, it had only been a couple weeks, I wasn't really that invested.
Or so I thought.
But I kept thinking about him throughout the next few months. One night, bored, lonely, and admittedly, a little drunk, I added him on Snapchat. A couple weeks went by, in which I completely forgot about it, and then one night, he added me back. We started talking, and I asked him why he had ghosted me so many months ago. He had no response except, "I don't know," which should have been my first clue to walk away — but I wasn't as strong then as I am now. (Thank you, therapy.) I decided to invite him over, even though I had a feeling it would end with him ghosting me once more. This time, without being indecent, I'll just say that the hookup was much more memorable. While he was over, he apologized for the ghosting and said it wouldn't happen again.
Well, I'm sure you know what was coming.
He.
Ghosted.
Me.
Again.
Is anyone surprised by this news? Yeah, I didn't think so. Even I wasn't surprised this time. I didn't even try to ask why. Once again, I deleted and moved on.
That was November 2018.
Mike was in the wind after that. Or so I thought.
Fast forward to this past March — a full year and a half after our last encounter. While swiping through my possible matches on Tinder one night (I pay for the app, so I can see who swipes on me first — it is a HUGE timesaver), there he was. He had swiped on me. I swiped, more out of curiosity than anything else, and sent him this as an opening line:
"You have to be kidding me with this."
He responded immediately, apologizing from the get-go, starting to promise that I could trust him this time and no way would he ghost me again. I told him there was no chance in hell that I would believe him, and that he'd proven time and again who he was. I believed it now. But he kept at me, wanting me to give him another chance. I finally conceded and invited him over for a glass of wine the next night.
Well, I'm sure you can figure out what happened. We hung out. We had a good time. We did actually drink the wine. He kept apologizing for ghosting me, said he had been dating someone when we met the last time and it recently ended, he was in a bad place back then, BLAH BLAH BLAH. I kept saying I just didn't trust him anymore. I have that in our texts as proof.
Imagine my surprise when Mike kept texting. He texted as soon as he got home that night — again, PROMISING that he wouldn't ghost me this time. We hung out a few more times. We added each other on Instagram. We kept texting. It seemed like, maybe, things might actually be different this time after all.
And then ... it was March, after all, and COVID happened. It was time for quarantine. Mike and I kept talking for the first couple weeks, sporadically, but the texts were there. We said we were going to meet again at the end of the month, after we each finished our two weeks of self-quarantine. And then, in early April...
HE.
GHOSTED.
ME.
AGAIN.
Well. I saw red. I yelled about it with my friends. I swore I would never talk to him again. My friends all said it was fine that I had gone back this time, but that if I went back AGAIN, there was no helping me. I agreed. I sent this final text on April 6:
My last ditch effort at receiving any sort of response. |
No response.
And then. OH, dear readers, AND THEN. Fast forward to November 12 — almost a full EIGHT MONTHS since he ghosted me AGAIN. I had long since deleted his number, long since removed him from Instagram. I woke up to this:
The illuminating text Mike thought it was appropriate to send after eight months of silence. |
I deleted the text without responding. A day later, he sent those same stupid emojis a second time. I deleted that too. He didn't deserve anything from me anymore. I thought it was over, and then...
This is all that Mike deserved. |
Let's also note the time stamps of these amazing text messages. 4:52AM for the scintillating "Hi." 2:09AM for the "Sooo" text. What self-respecting human is even sending texts like this at these hours?
At this point, Mike hasn't written back. I think we're finally done.
Oh, and in case you're wondering whether I truly won...
I got posted on Texts From Your Ex. So, yeah. I won.
Bye, Mike.
You’ve saved yourself from future grief!
ReplyDeleteI certainly have!
DeleteYes, some, dare I say many, guys are like that. Glad you broke free
ReplyDeleteAin’t that the truth!! Thank you for reading ❤️
DeleteHa! Thank you!!
ReplyDeleteWOW, lose his number for good! He doesn't even deserve a text from you!
ReplyDeleteI am always taken in by your dating stories. Glad you deleted him outta your life!
ReplyDeleteWhat a creep. It's too bad you gave him more chances. You know he's doing it to others too. Good riddance to bad business.
ReplyDelete