Christ, Facebook, I just posted on Saturday.
Frickin’ Stage 5 clinger.
Update on Dude I’d Been Dating: He texted me Sunday to give me back his phone number, and has texted here and there since with everyday minutia, stuff so mundane I feel like he’s just worried I’ll be mad if he doesn’t say SOMETHING.
He re-added me on Facebook (he’s on my “family” filter now, though, so all he sees are sunset photos and dog videos), but not on Instagram, and we were never connected on Twitter.
So I guess we’re friends, with nudity TBD, but I think I’m OK with friends, at least for now. I’m glad we’re talking because that means he didn’t just fuck me and bail. But now I know he can and will just shut down on me, and maybe he’s only talking to me because sex is possible, so I need to get those thoughts in order.
We don’t have plans to see each other, and I’m damn sure not bringing it up, so it won’t be a real issue until he does. (He’s away on a family trip right now.)
In the meantime, I have TWO OkCupid Potentials to write back, so “I’m not waitin’, because I’m no waiter, so when I blow up, don’t try to kick it to me later.”
(^ I…I am so sorry, you guys…)
This amuses me more than it should…
Dude wrote me back within 24 hours this time, accepting my offer of “naked or otherwise” friendship, because duh. (“We’ll have to have a discussion next time we hang out.” Mm hmm, ‘kay…)
But because I’d deleted him from Facebook, my phone displayed his message once, then sent it to some “other messages” Facebook purgatory that, as far as I know, I can only access on a computer, and…fuck it, I’ve had a long week, and starting up a laptop AND a browser feels like a lot of effort for a dude tryna tell me I’m clingy.
Talk Monday, shitheel.
^^^ This should all end well, right…?
Of course. I’d finally shaken the pheasants out of my brain, taken a shower, sang along with some songs about hating men. Feeling OK, and… saw the message he’d sent this morning on Facebook:
“You’re a great person, but it seems like we’re looking for different things right now. I had a great time and wish you well too. As far as I’m concerned there’s no reason to avoid each other in the future, but I will respect your message and also keep an eye on guests lists [at mutual friends’ parties].”
It’d gotten tangled in the “fuckfaces you deleted/unknown messenger matrix, but was still sent this morning, meaning he just let me dangle last night.
Aaand because I will never learn, my reply:
“I feel like you’re saying the thing you’re supposed to say, but if it’s true, I’d like to know what you think I want that you don’t. Either way, I’m glad you said something. I had, perhaps mistakenly, thought we were at least KINDA friends, so I hated thinking you’d just bailed. That was really the only reason I had any issue seeing you in the future.”
If this conversation ends up dragging on all day, I’ll just recap it later. But I really am glad he said something. It means my instincts weren’t SO bad. And that I don’t have to hate him…much.
Because I have no impulse control, I sent a Facebook message that he saw an hour ago and didn’t answer, so… I guess that’s my answer. (Ahem…I may have also sent a follow-up. Also seen and unanswered.)
So I’m not being used for sex, but I DO trust people too easily and I AM a shit judge of character. Couldn’t even assemble the balls to be like, “Yeah, we’re done”?
(For the record, I was right — hurts a little, but I know it’ll pass.)
We’re not even dating in any official capacity, but I still wanna know who this bitch is posting on his Facebook, and why, EXACTLY, she knows his cat’s name.
(I may or may not be hormonal.)
(I also may or may not think she’s cuter than me and wonder why he’s not dating her instead.)
(Shut UP, I’m already IN therapy.)
“Ooh, Friend of Facebook Friend is cuuute. I should ask her about him.”
“He lives in St. Louis.”
“And? I’d hardly ever have to shave, and I could just fly out once a month for sex and barbecue!”