Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.
It fucking happened again. Two nights ago, I had a great first date with a cute, attractive and quite intelligent woman. Things apparently clicked quite well … we got together at 7:00 PM, didn’t part ways until 11:30, and there was a nice kiss goodnight, which should mean something. Right?
Nope. Not in my case. Never in my case.
I had a nice time with you on Monday night. But right now, I’m going to have to say “no thanks” to getting together this weekend. While I had fun with you, a lot of my thoughts that night were of my ex-boyfriend and that wasn’t fair to you. I think I’m going to go visit a friend this weekend as I need to figure out some stuff about my life. I just don’t think that I’m ready to start dating again right now. And I’m sorry about that because you’re a great guy.
My friends call it the “Curse of [insert real name here].” Every woman that I seem to click with either goes back to the ex-boyfriend, or has so many lingering issues from their last relationship that the thought of a second date with me is unimaginable. EVERY WOMAN. I’ve had friends recommend me as a date to their female friends who want to get back with their ex-boyfriends, because that’s apparently the effect I have on the relationships of others.
The odds that every single woman that I date would have ex-boyfriend issues would be astronomical, though. Yes, I’ve become friends with a few women who gave me the “old boyfriend” line, and guess what … they did get back with the old boyfriend. Personally, though, I’m beginning to believe that it’s really just an implied “sorry, no click, not interested, go away dork,” and that the “old boyfriend issues” just a nice way to skirt the unpleasantries of saying “I changed my mind, and now take back the click I apparently felt because of this, that, this and that. You suck, now leave me alone.”
This is getting ridiculous. I have no idea what I’m doing wrong; I’ve taken “test dates” with female friends, who say that I’m really not breaking any taboos, not doing anything that would make a woman say “eeeewwww,” that I’m attractive, that I’m not some milquetoasty “nice guy” nor am I “Assholio.” Maybe it is a curse, a destiny … that my purpose in life is to guide young lovers that somehow parted paths back together again, and that love is never, ever going to be a part of my life.
Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.