So, do you guys remember that post from a million years ago where I had gone out with that one guy from eHarmony? With most guys that I’ve gone out with once, I forget their actual names and in my mind I call them whatever attribute stood out the most. I called this guy The Short Guy. Before we went out he acted interested but wouldn’t actually call, he would only text. I mean, that’s pretty par for the course in 2017, but in 2012, it was still somewhat unusual and gauche. I remember being so frustrated that he wanted to text back and forth and when I told him that I didn’t think texting was an affective way to get to know someone, would he like to call me? He pretty much said, “no,” but still asked me out. Anyway, after we met (and I found out he was lying about how tall he was, among other things), he accidentally really liked me. I told him that I wasn’t interested. I was really nice about it.
Then, and I am not making this up, my phone texted him without my consent the next day. In my defense I will say that this was in my pre-iphone days. I don’t know what happened. I think my crappy phone randomly shut off, then when it powered back up it sent a text that must have been a partial from when we were texting back and forth. It was not even a complete thought or sentence. I can’t remember, but I think it was something like, “but then.” He texted back immediately to see if I had changed my mind "but then" wanted to go out. I had to say “no” again for the second time in 24 hours.
That’s as much as I told you a few years ago, but there’s more to the story.
I think his name was Mark. Or Marc. Or something like that. It was a name that several people I know have. Six months later, even though I thought I had deleted his number, and had switched phones and phone companies, his number popped up when I tried to call one of the other dudes with his name. He immediately knew it was me, but it took me awhile to figure out that I had not actually reached my mortgage broker’s voicemail, as I had intended. Mark texted me right after the call, of course, and after I figured out who he was, he asked me out again. Poor guy. I mean, it was totally my fault, and I could see how it would be confusing, and probably felt like fate, but I wondered how many times I was going to have to turn him down. Because, about six months after that, we were both on a free dating website and he asked me out a fourth time. Again I had to say, “no thanks.”
At the time his status was something like, “single, never been married.” The other day, on a different website, something like six years after I went out with him, he showed up as, “divorced.” With a kid.
This is no surprise. Because, my life is a movie and this is an excellent fluffy arc to add humor to the bigger story, whatever that ends up being. If they actually film it, I think someone like Danny DeVito should play his part. But, it’s official: I’ve dated all of the men in Denver and now I’m starting back at the beginning and cycling back through. I just hope I don’t end up going out with The Spitter again. Because, gross.
