WELL I DIDN’T LIKE YOU EITHER: How to Feel When an Douchebag Rejects You

So you guys. I was recently Tinder-texting with a good-looking single dad, “Eric,” who, upon learning my basic stats and soliciting my answers to “describe your personality in ten words or less,” declared we were “a perfect match.” In fact, he was so excited to meet me that he drove 80 miles on a Tuesday night because that happened to be my soonest available time slot.

As soon as we sat down, Eric regaled me with his life story: adopted at birth, emotionally distant parents, high school troublemaker/cool kid, two colleges before finally graduating, first wife who supported him through school but whom he cheated on and ditched with a newborn, bankruptcy, moving back home, three more kids “by accident” with a pretty but empty-headed girlfriend…

That brought us up to Eric’s present: working an unfulfilling but pragmatic job, paying off child support in arrears (along with seven years of unpaid income taxes), and dabbling in some “politics blogging from a male centrist perspective.” [Side note to men: DO NOT BITCH ABOUT YOUR CHILD SUPPORT PAYMENTS TO A SINGLE MOM.  That’s even more of a mood-killer than mentioning your self-important Facebook political rants that literally none of your FB friends read because they unfollowed you back in 2011.]

Now, I know this all sounds beyond horrible, but in spite of Eric’s shitshow bio-narrative, he was pretty damn good at radiating charm, as well as disguising his red flags as “an important learning experience.” Plus, he had great hair.  I can’t emphasize this enough: great hair. But when he tried his best to have sex with me and I declined (see: Tinder Safety), he proposed a “set in stone” follow-up plan to get together that weekend.

Me being me — which is to say, low intellectual/personality standards for men, combined with a high sex drive — my thought is, well, you’re definitely a douche, but you have great hair and no STDs, so I’m all for a second date.  So imagine my surprise when less than 24 hours later, Eric texts me a steaming load of New Agey breakup bullshit, which seemed oddly cut-and-pasted from another breakup — perhaps one that went on for several months instead of two hours.

Oh, Eric. Are you fucking kidding me? Could you be any more presumptuous — not to mention WRONG? Let’s get one thing clear: I want to fuck, not exchange commitment rings on a windswept beach. The phrases “universal responsibility” and “remarkable communication” make me wince worse than slushy boots on a white carpet.

Furthermore, if there’s one thing I hate, it’s when a guy ASSUMES you want a relationship and uses that as a dirty excuse for… I don’t know… making no sense whatsoever?

But I guess I should be flattered.  Not everyone has realness in their person. I can’t wait to tell my AA sponsor — she’ll be so delighted that other people are finally seeing my progress in becoming a human being!

VERDICT: Copy and paste “you’re so smart” followed by the crying/laughing emoji on as many posts on his public Facebook page as you can in 10 minutes.  GO!

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