Text me. The two most popular words of this era have no place in the dating world. This is my number one rule: if you want to date me, be a man and use your phone for its intended purpose. It’s called a cell phone not a cell texter.
Not long ago, I met a guy at a friend’s birthday party. He was cute, educated, gentlemanly and a good dresser. Check, check, check and check! We talked for a good hour without a dull moment and although he was a little young for me, and lived in the undesirable (for me, anyway) O.C., when he asked for my number I gave it to him. What the hell. the very least, we would go on a date. Wrong!
He texted me shortly after I left the party to say he wished I had stayed and that since i had left there was no longer a reason for him to be there. Sweet, I thought. Given he was at a loud party, it made perfect sense for him to text me as I wouldn’t be able to hear him if he called. I replied by text with something cute and flirty and felt like a schoolgirl passing notes in math class, only without the risk of getting caught and having to stay late to clean the chalkboard.
For a week, he was texting me daily. Nothing significant. Only random playful quips were exchanged. I was growing bored. When was he going to call and ask me on a date? Patience wearing thin, I finally suggested we talk on the phone, so he called and we chatted briefly. I was heading into a Pilates class, so I suggested he call me later. He did not call. He did not ask me out, But he did text me and text me, and text me. Another week passed before I receive a text suggesting we get together sometime. Was he asking me on a date by text? I was not going to let that happen. I replied in the affirmative, making sure not to inadvertently ask himout, while wondering to myself why he hadn’t just asked me out when he called. I suggested again that he call me. Nada.
Losing interest I waited, curious to see what he would do next, though already aware that he was not the man I thought he was and in no way holding my breath. Would I go out with him at this point? Maybe. If I had nothing better to do, but I certainly wasn’t feeling the love. I received more cute, flirty texts. By now my replies were often delayed, though always polite and playful. I wondered why he was even still trying to engage me. Did he not have a life? Eventually I asked him point blank whether we were ever going to get together. He joked about the rain and said he had to finish building his ark to get to my place. Ha ha. That was it. I was done engaging. A few weeks went by and he texted again with something silly.
I had one nerve left and he was standing on it. I replied by explaining that while I had found him engaging at the party a month ago, I was not looking for a text message buddy. I wished him well and told him I’d see him next year at our mutual friend’s birthday party. He never replied. I attribute his lack of commitment to two things, his age and correlating immaturity and a strange phenomenon in Los Angeles whereby men expect to be pursued by women. I am trying to be more flexible, but every time I bend a dating rule it leads to disappointment. Maybe I am old. Maybe I am old fashioned. I know what works and doesn’t work for me and texting works – not!