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 »
A New York City man has filed a lawsuit against OkCupid’s parent company IAC after a guy he met on the online dating site scammed him out of $70,000. Michael Z. Picciano insists in his lawsuit that OkCupid, which is a free site, doesn’t properly screen its subscribers and that they are creating a false image of a safe place to meet people.
Picciano, who is 65, met “genuineguy62″ (oh, the irony), whose said his real name was Bruce Thompson, about a year ago. Picciano said he trusted Thompson and felt safe with him. They hit it off, and chatted on the phone and on Skype.
Things got sketchy when Thompson explained that he was facing “unexpected fees he incurred in his dealings setting up a new computer parts business.” Cool story bro. Picciano was fooled, however, and wired Thompson $24,000. Thompson instructed him to send them to two different names located in Texas and Canada, but Picciano must have been to caught up in his feelings to take note of that glaring red flag. Keep reading »
My girlfriend and I moved in together six months ago, and as to be expected, it’s taken some time to get used to each other’s idiosyncrasies – doing the laundry, putting away dishes, and so on. For instance, Melissa sorts our clean towels according to size. I, on the other hand, prefer to separate by use, because… eww, gross. The gym towels should never touch the bath towels! Even if they’re clean, that’s disgusting! Right?
Still, I pride myself on the fact that I don’t get annoyed with her over petty things. When she does something that’s the complete opposite of what I’d do, I remind myself that it’s not a big deal. And if it is a big deal, we work something out. We always work something out.
But that wasn’t always how I operated. 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 »
So you’ve finally found The One (or at least The One For The Foreseeable Future) and you’ve committed to a serious relationship. Now what? In our weekly column, Life After Dating, women discuss the unique joys and challenges of coupledom.
When Jeff and I moved in together — after six months of dating — it was out of convenience. My roommates were two dudes, one of which powdered his balls in the bathroom and made fun of my underwear hang-drying in the laundry room. Jeff was a musician living with his bandmates. His place was basically the apartment equivalent of tour bus — a bunch of guys rotating from futon to couch. There was a lot of Pabst Blue Ribbon and not very much food in the fridge. We both wanted out. We wanted to escape our situations. We were 22. There were no long discussions about the future or what living together or breaking up would mean. There was mutual, “OK. Let’s do it.” A week later, we found a place a few blocks away and before we knew it, we were eating pizza off of our very own repurposed crate/ coffee table like a real adult couple. Keep reading »
It’s really difficult to talk about the end of a relationship when you haven’t exactly had a breakup.
“Well, how did it end?” someone inevitably asks.
“Umm … I left him a heart-wrenching voicemail,” seems too embarrassing an answer.
I dated someone for more than eight months until he completely ghosted. I honestly thought this only happened to relationships in their infancy, after maybe a few dates — eight months seems like it deserves a breakup phone call at the very least. But he had stopped answering my calls and texts right around Christmastime, and I was left with no other option. Show up on his doorstep and demand some answers? Nah, not my style. So, I left a long voicemail explaining that clearly things were over, and I’d love to talk about it with him if he could summon some basic decency.
And I never heard from him. Keep reading »