Went to grab dinner at Zipps. For the record, I had a Coke. I don’t drink anymore.
I walked in, and a cutie in a backwards hat looked at me—and kept looking as I walked all the way by.
I enjoyed my nachos and the best conversation with my former coworker/bestie/partner in crime. It had been a long time since we’d really connected.
I missed her.
Then I got ballsy.
I wrote my number down, and my wing lady handed it to him while I went to the bathroom.
“Hell yeah,” he said.
Score!
Before we left, I stopped and introduced myself to him and his three buddies. He hugged me and mentioned he’d text.
I wasn’t even to my car before my phone buzzed.
I admit, I called him “cutie” in one of the texts.
Almost immediately, he started talking about pajama parties—sans pajamas—and my glossy lips. 🚩
My heart sank.
Really?
“What are you doing the rest of the night?”
I rolled my eyes as I pulled into my garage, top down.
“Grab a drink?”
I kept things very platonic.
He reiterated the no-clothes pajama party idea, and I promptly responded:
“Nope!”
The vibe immediately changed.
Then he asked where I lived.
I gave him a vague, general location. 🚩
Why are you asking where I live?
“I don’t have pajama-less parties with men I don’t know. I don’t even know your last name.”
He responded with his last name, and naturally, I immediately stalked Facebook.
Ummmmmm…
His profile said he was in a relationship.
WTF? 🚩
I called him out.
He immediately defended himself, saying he’d been kicked out of Facebook, that it was an ancient account, and then called me “babe.” 🚩
I sent his number to my super-duper spy friend to investigate.
She called me.
“Melissa, ten different citations came up on his record. Maybe they’re all parking tickets, but one is driving without insurance. Mel, I don’t think this is a safe meetup. And why do you always give your number to guys who have criminal records?”
This woman is one of my favorite people, and I trust her with all I am.
And she was saying all the things I already knew.
I could feel the tears coming, and I immediately got defensive.
That’s how I know it’s something I need to work on.
Long story short, I wished Jeremy well.
“Why do I always do this?”
Suddenly, Jeremy became very responsive.
He asked me to come over, made sure I had the name of his apartment complex, and reiterated how I had caught his eye the second I walked into the bar.
There had been so much silence between texts, and suddenly he could feel me slipping away.
So he made one more attempt to hook up.
I cut him loose.
Blocked and burned.
Here’s the deal:
If nothing changes, nothing changes.
Usually, when someone shows interest in me, I jump at the opportunity.
This time, I took a different action.
That’s a win.
Maybe a small win—but small wins, repeated over and over again, eventually become big wins.
There’s a quote I love:
“I’d rather have one percent of the efforts of 100 people than 100 percent of my own efforts.”
This was my one percent.
One small step.
I was able to wish Jeremy well—and then block and burn him.
Please note:
- “You’re cute” does not mean “I want to have sex with you.” It’s an observation. A compliment. Not an invitation.
- No, you cannot come over to my house. And no, I do not want to come over to yours.
- My glossy lips do not mean what you think they mean. I have a slight lip-gloss addiction. Once, Brian counted ten tubes in my purse. No exaggeration.
- “Mamacita” is a turnoff.
- “Daddy likey” is a turnoff.
- Objectifying me? Turnoff.
- A mile-long rap sheet? Also a turnoff.
Look, conversation is what I want.
I want to ask questions and get to know you, and I’d appreciate the same in return.
I want to know who you are—not what you want to do to me five minutes after learning my first name.
And FYI:
I hope you learn something from me as a reader.
Love yourself enough to listen to your intuition.
Listen to your internal red-flag barometer.
When something feels off, pay attention.
If someone immediately turns the conversation sexual, ignores your boundaries, sends you tongue emojis when you’ve given them absolutely no indication that’s the vibe, or behaves inappropriately—see list above—you are allowed to wish them well, delete, and block.
You are not a sex object.
You are a human being.
You are not a toy.
And anyone who treats you like one does not deserve continued access to you.
You are far more than that.
Don’t sell yourself short.
Take note:
- You don’t owe anyone anything.
- Just because you tell someone they’re cute does not mean you want to fuck them. It’s a compliment, not a guarantee of sex. Looking back, handing him my number may not have been my finest choice—but giving someone your number still doesn’t entitle them to anything.
- If their Facebook or Instagram says they’re in a relationship, pay attention. You do not have to stick around long enough to investigate the entire backstory.
And there’s a book I’d like you to read if you’re navigating the dating world:
The Burned Haystack Dating Method.
It changed my perspective on dating.
If you’re single—whether you’re on the apps or meeting cuties in backwards hats while eating nachos—I highly recommend giving it a read.
Because sometimes growth doesn’t look dramatic.
Sometimes it looks like noticing the red flags sooner.
Saying nope.
Wishing someone well.
And hitting block.
Leave a Reply