The other night when a number I didn’t recognize flashed on my phone, I decided to answer the call and was greeted with a cheerful, “Hey there, it’s Andrew.”
“Andrew?” I replied, clearly confused about who was on the other end of the line. “I’m sorry. Andrew who?”
“From the bar on Saturday night. You gave me your number,” he said, sounding slightly defeated by my forgetfulness.
And then it hit me. I knew exactly who he was. He was my OKCupid run-in. Keep reading »
Just as I began to feel satisfied and confident with my relationship-free self, guess who came back to throw a wrench in things and screw up my single girl feng shui? My college boyfriend, and one of the few men I’ve ever really loved: Don. Keep reading »
A few years ago, feeling stuck in a dead-end job, depressed, and lost in love, a friend of mine suggested I see her psychic, Donna, to help guide me through my tough time. I believed, and still do believe, in psychic abilities, but was hesitant and wanted to know that the psychic wasn’t just another fraud trying to make some quick cash.
“I’m telling you Donna’s the real deal,” my girlfriend reassured me. “She knew exactly when I was going to get engaged before I even had a boyfriend and told me small details about my past that she couldn’t have made up.”
I called Donna. She told me that my sister would have a failed engagement (which she did), and that within two months I would start a new, esteemed job at a company where they would be “ripping up carpeting” (I did, and they were), and that I was struggling with trust issues from a “uniformed male who broke my heart” (hello, Patrick Bateman). She reassured me that everything was panning out exactly as it was supposed to, and that she saw me ending up in a serious relationship, but that I needed to focus on me in the meantime. After speaking with her, I felt a renewed sense of hope. Her reassuring words helped me pull myself out of my slump.
After reading The Frisky post last week about Ami’s psychic love predictions, I felt like another chat with Donna might be just what the doctor ordered. So, I made another phone appointment. Keep reading »
On my fourth, excruciating day of not hearing from GQ, I was still racking my brain for possible reasons he could have ghosted. But I knew it was time to accept the fact that things were over between us. I knew I needed to reactivate my OKCupid profile— the one he suggested I take down to focus on “us.” But there was no “us” anymore. There was just me. And him, somewhere out there, avoiding me.
Feeling deflated, I logged back online when, to my surprise, I saw that GQ had reactivated his profile. To say that I was pissed is an understatement. After reaching out for days without any response, I was furious that GQ had no problem deciding to date other people without even bothering to give me one simple phone call to let me know I’d been dumped. A dick move. I made the oh-so-mature decision that probing him with questions (okay, and maybe some name-calling) wasn’t worth my time and energy. His message was coming through loud and clear: he wanted nothing to do with me. Keep reading »
It’s been two days since I’ve heard from GQ, and to be honest, I’m in an anxiety spiral. Although there’s still a tiny part of me that’s hoping for the best, it appears I’ve been ghosted.
Last week, as I mentioned, I happily accepted when GQ asked me over for takeout and a movie. Although we ultimately opted against the takeout in favor of a quick trip to a cozy eatery near his apartment, the night went exactly according to plan. We laughed, talked, yes—slept together— and even made the decision to take down our online dating profiles. Keep reading »
When GQ and I met up at a trendy Italian restaurant on our second date, he immediately reminded me how different he is from other guys I’ve dated. He kissed me hello, opened the door for me, put his hand on the small of my back and led me inside the restaurant. While we waited for the hostess to look up our reservation, he leaned against the stand, and looked into my eyes like he’d taken seduction cues from Ryan Gosling in “Crazy Stupid Love.”
When we got to our table, he helped me take off my coat and pushed my chair in underneath me. I didn’t even know people still did that; I’ve certainly never had the pleasure of dating anyone who engaged in chivalry. Over dinner, we swapped tales of teenage rebellion. I told him all about my childhood bedroom, which had a door that led right outside, and how I’d sneak out to round third base with my boyfriend in the woods near my house. He told me about the time he and his friends got caught drinking at a football game in high school and the principal insisted on calling his very conservative, very strict parents to come pick him up. Our conversation continued, and we even got into some deeper topics like religion, abortion and health care, sharing our viewpoints and seeing if our perspectives matched up— they did. I’d been wondering if GQ is religious, so I saw an open window when we started talking about how I gave up biting my nails for Lent. Keep reading »