I’m so happy I’m not in a relationship right now. Or even dating anyone. Last week, as I was having my internet installed, the cable guy (who was approximately my age) and I started talking. He was articulate and intelligent, well-spoken. We started complaining about our exes, how they treated us wrong at the end and why we dumped them both. As he was about to leave, he took one of the largest of my boxes down to the recycling heap and when he came back up, said he’d like to take me out sometime. About a million-thought long chain went through my head within a matter of seconds, and I ultimately decided that it would be a fun, good idea. He was cute, I liked his glasses, he was nice, poetic, and recording a hip hop album for a label he had just signed with. Like the rest of us, he’s just an artist trying to get by working at a job that makes ends meet. (For the record, I’m lucky I love my job.)
That evening I texted him so he’d have my number. And then he proceded to start calling me “Sweetheart.” Oh, hell no. No one calls me “Sweetheart” (except my mom). Not to mention that I don’t do pet names until I’m well into a relationship, and those were silly like “Marcella.” Not “sweetheart,” “baby,” “honey,” etc. It made me hurk in my mouth a little. Then he started telling me he couldn’t stop thinking about me. Hurk in my mouth again. Dude, we don’t know each other and we’d only met hours before. The next morning I found a “Morning!” text on my phone. Seriously, dude? I don’t like you that much to be texting all the time. I just met you. At this point all we should be doing is scheduling the date.
Sometimes I meet a guy and I really like him straight off — like my last few boyfriends: Steve, Josh, and Crush. There was instant like there, I couldn’t wait to see them again, or get a text or an email or an IM or–gasp–a phone call. But there are a lot of guys who ask me out who I’m just not enthusiastic about. Like the 6’5″ baldy who seemed hot in a dark club, who turned out to not be my cup of tea. I liked him from afar, he’d even scheduled our first (and last) date to have tea on a Saturday afternoon. Short, sweet, a walk around the Upper West Side. He was nice, and I wouldn’t have minded being friends with the professional chess player. But he didn’t ennunciate his words. His head wasn’t closely shaved and neither was his face, making him look, quite frankly, sloppy. More than anything, I just didn’t feel a spark. And if I don’t feel a spark right off, I know it’s not going to work.
There’s nothing wrong with Cable Guy. The problem was that he started to put on the Rico Suave act. I loathe the Rico Suave act. Dude, I liked you just the way you were when I met you. I don’t need you to put on this stupid front. Be your nice self, and if this annoying seductive act is your real self, then I don’t want to date you.
Cable Guy continued to call me “Sweetheart.” I was going to ask him, nicely, to please not call me that or any other pet name because it made me uncomfortable, but he messed it up later that night as I was falling asleep by sending a “I just wanted you to know I’m thinking about you” text. It’s 11-o’clock at night. I don’t want to know if you’re thinking about me right now. Sayonara, Cable Guy.
I’m sure that kind of thing works for a lot of girls. It’s really nice to be pursued. But, quite frankly, I only want to be pursued by people I really like. And I do feel badly about the way I treat some guys–it isn’t fair. And it makes me a hypocrite because I don’t like it when guys do the fade to me. But I also know the rules of dating: If he likes you enough, he’ll call. And those rules can be applied to me. The guy I was dating around Halloween? We had a kind of bad date, and were clearly getting sick of each other after four outings. Neither of us called each other again. And that was that. No love lost there.
So, what happened to my ill-fated dates? Well, I never returned Cable Guy’s “thinking about you” text, and I haven’t heard from him since. He seems to be the type to get the message quickly (thank Buddha). As for Baldy, he didn’t get the message. He called four times and texted over the course of three weeks. I screened each time, and deleted each message without listening to it. Sorry, dude.