As you can probably guess, I decided to give this guy a chance. We had some pretty good conversations over text, so I thought maybe he was just throwing out some weirdness on the first date. (Hint, he wasn't, I should have totally not given him a chance.) The first thing I noticed after we met in person was our communication changed. We used to have entire conversations over text and I was fine with that. After meeting in person, he switched to using texts to see if I was near my phone and then would call me. I don't like this. If we are in the middle of a text conversation, there's no need to call me. Unless it's a complicated topic and it's hard to keep up on text, then I'm fine it. (Or if your my sister and you just need to talk.)
|Know your audience. Photo credit.|
Then he started calling me if I didn't answer texts right away. This is not okay. There are two main possibilities here, 1) I'm not near my phone or it's off/out of battery, or 2) I didn't answer the text on purpose because I'm busy/don't want to talk right now. Okay, or 3) I'm driving and can't text, but maybe could take a call, but this is a special case and I don't spend that much time in my car. This feels pushy to me.
Speaking of pushy, during a phone call he decides we need to have another date. Does it count as a date when you just get together for a few minutes and then he tries to fuck you in his car? Yes, again ... still. Wait, I'm getting ahead of myself. So, after getting a vague idea of when I might be available he announces to me that he's coming over to my place and we're fucking for hours. Excuse me? First, I did NOT invite him to my house. Second, I had just gotten a rescue dog a few weeks earlier, and had no idea how she would handle having a new person in the house. Especially one who thinks he's going to control me and fuck me, and probably wants to lock her out of the bedroom for "hours". (Public Service Announcement: this is a terrible thing to do to a new dog, the more you know.🌠) Third, I did not agree to any fucking. Fourth, fucking for "hours" is not fun, it's painful. Fifth, I don't want to spend hours with anyone on a Sunday night, that's my "me" time to get ready for the work week.
By now you all know I'm working on keeping my boundaries. Well after the disaster the date with Tuesday Night Guy turned into, I have a new rule: people don't get to come to my house. Friends? Sure. My sister and her family? Absolutely. Random dude I had been on one date with? Nope, not going to happen. I was a little shaky about it, admittedly; it is a new boundary. And he was super confident and sure in his ... ahem ... request. But, I'm going to pat myself on the back, because I said no. Well, okay, I said, "Maybe not at my place." To which he responded, "Don't you trust me?" Um, no, not really. I just met you. And you wanted to fuck in a car. And I live alone now. So, no, actually I don't trust you to come over to my house at all. Which isn't exactly what I said. I told him, "This is not about trust; it's about my safety, no one gets to come over." Which is true, as far he's concerned.
After getting that all worked out we agreed to meet for drinks near my place. I picked a place which was easily walkable from my house, but no too close because safety. After another conversation not long enough to really be a date, he insists on driving me home. Um, what? I already went over how I feel about being forced to "let him be a gentleman". I got really mad about this. DO NOT force me to accept your gentlemanly gesture.
Car Guy: I'll give you a ride home.
Me: No, thanks, I'm only about a 10 min walk from here.
Car Guy: No, really, I'll give you a ride home.
Me: I don't really need a ride.
Car Guy: You're putting me in a position here.
Me: Uh, okay, but this is unnecessary.
Notice, he did not, in fact, even bother to ASK me. I'm putting him in a position?!?! To what, be an asshole? I walked here all by myself. Truthfully, I ended up walking my dog passed the very bar we were in later that night, so safety really wasn't an issue. News flash, I'm an adult and can take care of myself. It's NOT your responsibility to take care of me. You don't get to control my actions. Ugh. So as it turns out this whole thing about driving me home wasn't about my safety or being a gentleman. It was about him trying to get me to ... you guessed it ... fuck him in his car. I was over that before he tried it the first time. GAH!
|I walk my dog almost every day. Photo Credit|
Somehow after all that, I still let him talk me into drinks again the following Sunday. Which also happened to be the Sunday before Thanksgiving. He asked me what I was going to do over the holiday and said I was spending it at my sister's house. It's family holiday; in my book, you spend it with family. Well, except that time the DLS and I spent it on the beach in the Caribbean, that's okay too.
Now, I'm going to lay this all out, so it's clear why I got upset at what happened over Thanksgiving. First, if you have been following along for any amount of time, you know I have an issue with
What happens instead? Car Guy. Every 10 minutes. Well, okay, not quite, but still. I got like 27 texts, four phone calls, three voicemails, and two emails. (No, those aren't the real numbers; no, I'm going to go count them.) Not over the course of the whole weekend mind you, this was on Thursday and Friday. When the first text came in Saturday, I sent my break-up text. Which I started writing Saturday morning at 5am when I couldn't sleep through the stress of him constantly trying to get in touch with me. Each attempt to get in touch with me got more panicked and more insistent I respond. The last email said something along the lines of, "Please, I just need to hear from you to know you're okay." No, you don't.
First, I am a 38-year-old woman who has lived her entire life, except the last few weeks, without you even knowing I existed. It's totally realistic to assume I continue to function normally without telling you I'm functioning normally. I did not lose the ability to not die or injure myself just because you haven't hear me say "I'm okay" in the last hour. Second, I told you, repeatedly, I do NOT want to be checked in on. I know there are some people who think this is sweet; I am not one of them. (Did I say that in another blog already? I feel like I have ...) Third, you are interrupting my time with my family. We are not family; we've been on a few dates. This is far too soon into a relationship for you to be this allegedly concerned about my well being. Fourth, by doing this after I specifically asked you not do it, you have just shown me you don't respect my wishes, or me. My response was along the lines of:
Just wow. I thought I was clear I was spending this weekend with my sister. To me spending a holiday with family doesn't include checking my phone; it means spending time with the family I came to visit. I am completely freaked out by the number of messages and phone calls. I do not owe anyone a response to requests for my time or attention. I thought I was clear on how I felt about checking in all the time. I enjoyed the time we spent together, but this isn't working for me. This is over. This is not negotiable. Do not try to contact me again.So, of course, he responds right away with excuses as why he did it. I have sympathy for what he was going through. He had apparently just had some kind of surgery and was on Oxycontin. That sucks. Doesn't give you a reasons to harass me. You know what's not listed on the common sides effect of Oxycontin? Confusion; disrespecting people's wishes; ignoring people's boundaries; texting consistent, yet "requested you didn't sent this type of texts" texts; random phone use; or a whole host of other things he did. I actually expected the immediate reply. And, if you're going to reply, this is the time. It's not a new conversation and you have a certain expectation to have a chance to explain. Doesn't mean I'm changing my mind though.
What I do mind is the waiting a little while and texting/emailing/messaging me to see if I'm "ready to accept your explanation." I'm not; it's not a good enough explanation for me to change my mind. If I didn't change my mind when you sent the first set of texts explaining what happened, I'm not likely to change it now. I didn't change my mind Saturday when he sent his explanation. I didn't change my mind in December when he texted again. I didn't change my mind over Christmas, when he yet again intruded on family time. By early January, I blocked him on my phone. I kept getting upset when he would say the same tired bullshit over and over again and expect me to think he was worth talking to this time.
Then he sent me a message over social media, on the site we met, in mid January. I got really pissed off. He was pleading to be allowed back in my life. "I unequivocally am "begging" you to let me back into your sphere of potential friendship. I really like your company and would not break your rules for code of conduct." The. Fuck. You. Won't. I already gave you my rule: "This is over. This is not negotiable. Do not try to contact me again." You are clearly fucking ignoring it. So I blocked him on there too. I just want to yell at him, "Get over it! I said NO!"
Now we're caught up to mid Jan. Next month's episode: why I stop talking to Tuesday Night Guy. Or rather, why he stopped talking to me, you know, I after I demanded he respect my boundaries.
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.