The following is a phone conversation continued from last week’s The Chase…
“Probably not a good idea.”
“Because. I don’t know. You sound drunk and I just… I don’t think I can do this anymore.”
“Fine. I gotta go. My phone’s about to die.”
My phone wasn’t about to die. But I couldn’t stay on the phone and listen to Allison sigh and mumble her way through her disillusionment with me.
Saturday night had gotten away from me quickly, and I didn’t have anything left in the tank.
Allison and Maria, gone in one fell swoop. Kicked to the curb by two girls in 48 hours was a blow to my ego, for sure. I had designs on keeping this up for the foreseeable future, but I managed to fuck it up for myself in less than a month. I still don’t know what happened to Maria.
My Bumble and Hinge matches had all dried up. I had no choice but to enter into the very much frowned upon double-text. I’m not a double-texter. Honestly. Maria hadn’t responded to my first one the night prior, and if I wasn’t drunk I wouldn’t have done what I did. I got desperate. Drunk and in the middle of inhaling fish taco number two of the night, I fired off a text from inside a late-night taco spot. I stumbled in after I hung up with Allison. Cringeworthy, lonely, awful stuff.
“I feel like I’m pestering you at this point, but I’d love to see you tonight.”
Nothing good can come from the double text. And this one was especially bad because there was no confidence in it. That text makes me want to puke. No poise. Unoriginal and boring. I’m glad she didn’t respond. That piss poor exhibition doesn’t deserve a text back. There’s no doubt Maria smelled the desperation, the baja sauce from my tacos, the booze-all of it seeped through her phone when she read it.
I’m probably making too much of it, but I’d be lying if I said I’m not still thinking about it. It’s tough to come back from, and I doubt I’ll hear from Maria ever again. But those are the breaks. Sometimes you’re up. Sometimes you’re down. It certainly doesn’t help matters that it’s freezing cold out and spring isn’t exactly close. I took it relatively easy this past weekend. I stayed in on Friday night, and I had a productive Saturday running errands, going to the gym (rare for me on a Saturday), and doing laundry.
I spent Valentine’s Day at a friend’s apartment with a bunch of single people. We all brought a box of cereal over, played flip cup, and drank mimosas while The Life of Pablo played at a reasonable volume. It was pretty fun. I wanted to reach back out to Maria, but the thought of texting her again gave me stomach pains. I thought about calling Allison, but I honestly didn’t see the point.
So where do I go from here? I had a dentist appointment yesterday. Zero cavities and a mouth full of freshly cleaned, whitened teeth. So I’ve got that going for me, which is nice. But honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever suffered a defeat of this magnitude before. I’ve been dumped. I’ve been rejected more times than I care to think about. But never, never have I ever been so wrong about two girls who I thought were into me. So it’s back to the grind. Back to sifting through bumble and hinge matches. Back to the bar. Back to the chase.
The thing about getting shut down by a girl is this:
Any fear you might have had about approaching another one is gone. What the hell do you have to lose?
The worst possible scenario is you get turned down again. Which means absolutely nothing because you’re already as far down as you can possibly go. You play with house money.
Even a blind squirrel finds a nut every once in a while. Case in point:
Until next time. .
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