In the space of 18 hours, everything I wrote in this last post can be ignored.
For the same reasons as why anyone calls their fuck buddy, I contacted The Bar Man last week. We hooked up and it was fun to see him.
Although I knew the new man would not be ‘The One’, I definitely hoped he’d be something. We’ve only had five dates, but everything has felt so different. Slow, casual and promising. He appeared at an odd time; a time when I thought I’d seek a girlfriend because I was giving up with men. Then this tall, dark, handsome man with cute glasses came on the scene.
Date 1: Fun drinks – bit of a bar crawl around Brighton.
Date 2: Drinks in a new bar. A late one as I had early evening plans, but fun. Got the vibe he was nervous and therefore drinking lots. Quick peck goodbye. Nothing more.
Date 3: A daytime date – crazy golf, followed by a glass of wine. A friendship was building. I worried we were friend-zoning each other. Another kiss when we went to our cars.
Date 4: Sunday evening drinks in the pub after I’d had a fun weekend in London. No kiss. But got on well.
Date 5: Chilled beers in the park on a Sunday evening. Worried he thought I was friends-zoning him, texted my sister half way through: ‘How do I make it more flirty but not too obvious?!’ He resolved the issue by sitting closer and initiating [oh so lovely] kissing. Felt like a teenager, rolling round in the park snogging. Practically skipped home.
Would-be Date 6: Meant to have drinks after my work-do. He cancelled, claiming he felt shattered but was really sorry and said he felt really guilty. I said no prob.
Would-be Date 7: After a really fun day at London Pride, I came home on Sunday excited to see him. He cancelled, saying he was so hungover and had to pack for holiday early the next morning. He was really sorry and said he felt guilty.
Over the week he was away, I played it cool. Maybe he’d text, but he probably wouldn’t. And if he didn’t message when he was back the following weekend, I wouldn’t be overly suprised.
Then he texted, on a Sunday evening. ‘Hey, how are you? How has your week been?’
OH. MY. GOD.
Hold your horses, Mrs.
By Monday lunchtime he messaged to say (in more words) he’s no longer interested and doesn’t know what he’s looking for.
It took him five dates to realise this. Five dates over two months.
I don’t regret anything I did. I couldn’t have been a better version of myself. I’m now just annoyed I got my hopes up last night.
And now I’m back to where I started. Keeping things casual with The Bar Man, but now deleting dating apps because, as my friend says, ‘even the nice guys can act like dicks’.