Diary, I realise that I haven’t written about Rick. I know that as far as your pages were concerned, I had been on 2 dates so far and there was set to be a 3rd.
Well there was. We’d had arranged to meet for dinner on the same night that I had work drinks. Dammit. I get a fair bit tipsy and leave the work drinks with a mission of getting to the other side of London (east-ish) so that we can have dinner and enjoy each other’s company again.
We do, we go to Pizza Express, we enjoy pizzas and we share 2 bottles of Rosé before I make the executive decision of saying “yes” to his question of going back to his.
We exit whatever South London station he lives at and we head to the nearest Costcutter and buy more alcohol. Uhoh.
Once we arrive, I decide to put on an animated movie, what it was I can’t remember but I know it wasn’t enough to maintain our attention. To put it this way, the sofa was feeling awkward.
We head up to his room and…well. Yes. (As if I need to say more.)
In the morning, we head out for breakfast. We stroll through the market and chat some more. I have to say it was really nice, but in the back of my head I didn’t expect to see him again. I gave it up too soon. *sigh*. No-one wants anyone that puts out straight away? It was a rhetorical question so there is no need for a response.
Well, my loving’ couldn’t have been that bad as Rick calls again, and says he wants to see me the following week. Yay *claps hands*
The next date is a trip to the cinema to see Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy. The film was awful; I just couldn’t stay awake during it. I would like to say it was because I had a bit too much Rosé before the film, but it wasn’t. It’s down to what I call a shit party trick. No matter what film, what cinema, how COLD it is or what time of the day, I can guarantee 95% of the time, I will fall asleep. Now on a date, that is just not what I needed. Luckily, Rick thought the film was as interesting as a wet blanket.
We leave the cinema and make our way home. Not before smooching and playing tongue tennis.
You’d think after having sex, wanting to go on the next date that I was guaranteed at least a few more date right.
I was wrong about Rick. He was just a prick. I would say the worst kind actually, the cowardly type. I hadn’t heard from him in a while so I gave him a quick text seeing how he was. No response.
I left it a few more days and thought, ooh, let’s text him again. This time was to test whether he’s just busy or he’s ignoring me. No response.
That’s 2 texts, no responses. I was done. I don’t play games, therefore, I take it as a gross-misconduct when someone that you are dating can’t be straight and honest with you.
So the little fucker isn’t getting away with just ignoring me. I message him on Facebook something along the lines of:
I don’t know whether you’re busy or you are simply just not interested anymore but it would be good to know.
Hope you’re good.
I get a response. He mentions something about “being really busy” but he “doesn’t think we should carry on seeing each other” and hopes that I’m okay.
Fine, *deletes message*
I’m okay. I’m upset, but okay. I wasn’t concerned that my sexual partner number had increased for no reason, or that he could have been my soul mate or any soppy bullshit like that. It annoyed me that he was too chicken to just say it. COME ON PEOPLE. If you don’t want to date someone, SAY IT. If you feel that it’s not going to work out, be a fucking man and come out with it. I don’t need to you to turn up at my house and tell me it face to face. We live in the 21st century. You can text me this, I’m a big girl, we only went on four fucking dates AND you walked funny.
So after 3 failed dates, I can’t do this anymore. I just can’t. My self-esteem just can’t handle that. I feel embarrassed, annoyed and frustrated. Am I that updateable? So my looks and writing can get me a date or 2 but my personality is shit?
I remember joking with Rick about me writing on my blog about our dates. I said I wouldn’t. I guess I lied. Rick, you’re a prick.
I cancel my subscription to the dating website.
It’s over, I’m done.