After being catfished, most people would be done. I mean really, truly be done online dating. Not me. Kate, I say to myself, you are not a quitter. There are still a few good men out there. Find him.
I couldn’t decide if I was actually looking for love, or trying to win this losing battle I was having. I was down four nothing.I had to prove that online dating can work. Since my options for finding love are none anywhere else.
Maybe my choosing was off. Since I had insisted on picking the guy myself, I would wait for someone to message me, that looked O.K. and see where it went.
So I cruised my inbox. I saw someone. His pics were all right, not my type, but in my heart I know it’s not about looks. He wasn’t ugly, just not my normal type. Which wasn’t working anyways. I read his profile. I laughed out loud. He was really funny. He had messaged me because he thought I was funny. Win.
So I answered him back.
As I always do, after a few messages in, I explain my living situation, where I am at in my divorce and that I need to have some way to know if the guy is real. “Marcelo” was cool with everything (so he said.) He sent me his number, name and he checked out very well.
We messaged for a few weeks and it was hilarious. He was so funny. In fact I was getting worried that he may be funnier than me. I rarely find others that can make me laugh as much as he did. It was a big yes.
It was time to meet in person. We met at a cafe. Our time flew by. We had inside jokes, and flirting down to an art by the time I had to leave. I was very comfortable with him. It was hopeful.
I planned to see him two days later. He offered to cook for me, if I was comfortable going to his house. I was. Even with everything I had been through, I trusted him. Of course I told three people where I was, and brought ten ninjas with me.
He’s an artist ( a real one, who gets fair price.) I was able to see his work. He was very talented. He was older than me by a few years and his kid was older than mine. He was a great dad, as most stories were about his son and all the things he loves doing for him. This guy was coming along as a great catch.
I kept saying to myself ” See Kate, you can’t quit. Here is a real nice guy, in fact he’s pretty fucking cool.”
I was getting more comfortable and again the night flew by. I was into going slow, so that this relationship had a chance to really gather a base. I wasn’t sure how serious it would get, or where we would end up down the road, but I wasn’t in a hurry to suck face anytime soon. Marcelo was however.
At least he asked if he could kiss me. One thing I failed to mention is Marcelo has hipster facial hair. I won’t get into too much detail for fear of identifying him here on my secret blog, but he was super into his moustachio.
I agreed to be kissed. However, and maybe this shows Marcelo’s age, I got a great big tongue thrust into my mouth. As Jimmy Fallon would say “Ewww!” I mean I’m all lips right?
My head snapped back instinctively and it startled him. He right away groomed his moustache and worried that it had bothered me. My damn politeness said no, that it was just so exciting and I had to catch my breath. Hoping it was the end of make out time. Oh no. It was not.
About three minutes after the tongue thrust, it quickly turned into the Marcelo Show. I saw more of Marcelo than I had planned, and let’s just leave it at that. At about five minutes in I put an end to things. Marcelo was no longer the hip, older guy who had his shit together. He was a man on fire with passion and lust!
It was late, I said, I am not ready to get all jiggy with it on our first real date. Let’s slow it down. Way down. He was gracious, polite and respected my wishes.
On the drive home I was so disappointed. Clearly he was way more into me, than I into him. Or he was super horny and I wasn’t, cause I knew him, but there hadn’t been enough time to build up the wonder of feeling his hands on my ass. All of a sudden they were just there.
The next day I worked a double, and tried to stop processing the whole previous night. It all derailed so fast. Was I missing clues. Was I a prude? Should I even be dating? What would my friends think? Would I still go out with this guy? Everything was so awesome except for Marcelo racing from table to bedroom in less than sixty seconds.
I got home and sat in the tub. I texted him. He seemed fine and things progressed as normal. I did take time to say hey. last night, while it was hot (sort of), I really like you and I think if we slow that part down, it will be better in the long run.
What I got in return was a ” i think we are in two different places text.”
OMG I am getting dumped by Moustachio Marcelo! Because I didn’t put out?! Was this high-school?
And honestly, I was dating down. Yes I said it. He was lucky. I felt a Taylor Swift song erupting.
He assured me that I was not being dumped for not putting out . Really Marcelo, really. Cause who would admit that.
I sat in the tub, with my wine, and sank down. I really, really liked this one. And because I did I refrained from telling him he was a hipster dufous, with a shitty tongue thrust kissing mouth. I simply block his number and erased his face from my mind.
Delete, Next.
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