A few days ago I was aimlessly swiping through one of my three trusty dating apps when I came across a very familiar face. Even though it’s been one year and three months since I last saw him, I recognised him instantly. We’re going to call this man *James.
Now, the reason why I’m so familiar with James is because I went on a date with him sometime in January last year and then he ghosted me. To be fair it was a very soft ghosting (where the perpetrator sends shorter and shorter messages, not engaging in a conversation until they just stop replying all together) but it still hurt.
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I never want to put any man up on a pedestal but he has been, to this day, the best date I’ve ever had. We got on so well, the conversation flowed, we couldn’t stop laughing and, not to sound too intense, but the date ended at 1pm the next day.
He asked if he could see me again, and of course I eagerly said yes. He messaged me when I got home and I was smiling for the rest of the day.
Then the next day came. The conversation may as well have been the Sahara Desert because it was dry af. I was making sure that every message I sent included a question, so he was obliged to keep replying.