So I stayed over that night leaving first thing in the morning in a mad panic to get to work on time. Several texts were sent throughout the day, just the normal kind of thing, followed by a phone call that evening with an arrangement to go out the following night.
The next day, as I’m so poor till I get my first wage from my new job, my phone was cut off. I know, how council, so I had no way of texting him. I still assumed that we’d be going out that evening though. As the time passed by I thought I’d pop home for a shower after work instead of going to meet him straight away. I used a brillo pad and some wire wool to try and scrape of the scent of desperation. Anyway, time passed by and he didn’t get in touch so I phoned him to see what was going on; he’d decided to have a night in with one of his friends but hadn’t let me know. Even though I’d only met the lad once my blood boiled, I wasn’t to impressed and had the smallest of bitch fits, so small in fact I’m sure it wouldn’t even make it onto the bitch fit metre.
So a few days passed and heard nothing so I deleted his number, you know that thing you do to stop yourself from sending any drunken messages only to find yourself going through your inbox to hopefully find a message from them that you've missed. Just then he popped up online and I found myself apologising for slightly over reacting on the Wednesday to which he said he hadn’t even given it a thought he’d just been to busy with work. Call me an old fashioned type of girl but I think if you like someone you’ll always find time to send a text. Anyway he said we’d speak later that night, but yes you guessed it, we didn’t.
The next time I heard off him was three days later when he phoned me from
whilst he was on holiday to ask me where the gay bars were as I’d been to the resort a few times before. I’m sure the neighbours heard my jaw hit the floor. I honestly couldn’t believe his cheek. Not even a polite ‘how are you?’ Spain
Fast forward a few days and once again we were chatting on line and he said he’d like to meet again but was so distant you’d need a telescope to see him to, I told him bluntly to delete my number and that I couldn’t be arsed with game playing.
So you see, I am a complete disaster when it comes to dating. I am a self confessed compulsive over thinker; I analyse every little meaning and word. I will never get my head around why people feel the need to play games or lead each other on. Maybe it’s a downfall of mine that I tell people exactly what I’m thinking, maybe I come across to strong sometimes or rude at others.
That’s the second lad in two weeks I’ve met and told to delete my number, I don’t know what it is with gays these days, I wish they’d try and be a little more straight. And before you say I’m high maintenance I beg to differ, I’m just very expressive.
Now who’d like to take me out?