I snuck out of a second date tonight. Like a complete ass.
I had a pretty good first date with her last weekend, but I was unsure of a few things. However, still willing to go on a second, because that’s how you find out, right? She feels similarly about gender (although is self-described gender-fluid, which is different). But there were all these things… some shallow, maybe most shallow, it’s hard to say.
Her hair did nothing for me. (I am a sucker for good hair.) She was a giggler. Wtf. I laugh, all the time. But I laugh. I am not into giggles. The occasional chuckle, sure. Giggles? What are we? Fifteen year old girls?! It’s so unattractive.
And then for the real kicker. She kept telling me how excited she was to see me, how she had a good feeling about me, how she liked all these things about me. (What things? We went on one date.) And that made me so incredibly anxious. It sets up expectations that I know I can’t meet (nor do I want to). Sure, be excited, but keep it to yourself. I don’t want to know it.
So here we are on this date. We had a casual dinner, then were going to watch Fantastic Beasts. I’m freezing cold because I got cold at dinner and couldn’t warm up again (my life story). The movie was not exciting me. And I felt dread and anxiety about the person sitting next to me, giggling. So I got up to use the bathroom and ran out to my car where I texted that I left because I wasn’t into the movie, was anxious, and was an ass. She wrote back to say she hoped we could try again. Um. No?
I need to be with someone that I’m into and that doesn’t fill me with anxiety. And maybe that person doesn’t exist–which is cool so long as I get some action here and there. And even if not, I’m pretty good with being by myself, to be honest.