So, I’m going to assume you all read my last post. And yes I had a muse. Maybe I still do. But you also all know that it could not have actually been a good thing. Because, good things? They don’t happen to JMo. Duh.
Let’s get down to brass tacks, (I’ve always wanted to say that but have never needed to, until now) JMo has been doing the online dating thing. Or rather, the apps.
They have apps now. Not even websites like when I was just divorced. But anyway, I already told one of you that I have a Hall of Fame story that I do want to share. But not yet. And believe me, it doesn’t make me look good. It just was a good fucking story. And how could I keep that from all of you?
EASY. Like I keep everything else from you. But I felt like I needed to discuss said muse and then “forget all about it.” And by “forget all about it,” I mean, “hopefully my broken heart will heal from opening it up to another bonehead, and over time I will never forget but maybe pause before I remember his name.” Brian? No….
Which I know, but obviously cannot share that here. Let’s just say, he wants to be gangsta but he has a way whiter name than I do…so there’s that. But fuck it though, he was cute as fucking hell (I must’ve told him 17 times too). I fell for it – hook, line and sinker.
But let me say this about that (my favorite saying) – we chatted quite a bit before we met. Chat, text, snapchat, even phone. I know…cuz God knows guys ain’t calling girls anymore. But there we were, on the phone. Like normal people.
Anyway, I know I can be a rude, vindictive bitch who sets everything on fire, but deep down, I’m an innocent, naive introvert, who, believe it or not, actually lets everyone be themselves. They don’t have to pay for the sins of JMoMen Past. So, no, I did not go in with low expectations. I still have our texts for crissakes. There was a connection there. Whatever it was. And I did not make it all up. (I swear!)
Then there we were. On my third ever parking lot date (LONG stories), but it got all fucked up. We had a plan, but it changed. But it was fine. Because, there he was. Right there with me. And I don’t think I stopped smiling. I didn’t care what we were supposed to be looking at, because I was ecstatic to be looking at him. Yes, his lips and face are great. And a cute smile (he lost his retainer though. YES HE IS OLDER THAN 15). But it was the whole package (don’t be pervs). I legit had/still have a huge crush on him like I was 17.
It was probably about five hours of actual face time. And, look, I know I’m a naive, innocent introvert, but I think I know when someone has a good time. Or when someone doesn’t. And I would’ve bet some serious money on YES, we BOTH had a good time. And this one, this one won’t ghost (more long stories) – I was so sure of it.
“Text me when you get home.”
And I did.
He texted with my briefly the next morning. And again, clueless me. I guess what I didn’t know was, he didn’t have a good time and was just going to stop talking to me. Like, forever.
No more answering my call. No more texts or chats.
And, fuck, man. It hurt. I won’t lie. I fucking liked that kid. And I would love to share all the little things that happened that night. But honestly, for the first time ever, I don’t actually want to share it with all of you. I will never get any more moments with him. All of those five hours, and how ever many more conversing before that…those stay with me. And only me. And I guess him, too. I wonder if he even remembers anything good about me at all.
I wish he would just tell me why. It must be bad. And about me, right? I mean, I have no problem saying “You suck and here are all the reasons why….” in all my other posts. And I know it would hurt the fuck out of me to know WHY I was so wrong about our good time. And why did it even last five hours then.
Why did we even…
If he sees this though (doubtful), he has to know this:
I liked you. And you knew it. My only hope was to see you again. No longer strangers. I really thought we were friends. All the things we talked about, over the LOUD music, I remember. The stuff you taught me. And I still mean what I said that night when I texted you after I got home…I would gladly sit shotgun and watch your gorgeous lips rap whatever you want to me (even the word Pussy haha). And I would stroke the back of your head with my fingers, trace one around your ear and down your neck. Do you remember when I stroked that part of your arm while your drove, and told you that that spot drives me crazy? I told you that because I wanted you to remember for next time. But there was no next time. And I am really sad about it. THAT is what I would want him to know. Yeah, maybe you don’t like me like that, but I thought we were cool. I will never be able to fathom what I did to push you away. Did you not get my shit that said “hey, what’s going on?” How does one just turn off their feelings like that??
Listen, there are plenty of young guys that want to slide into JMo’s DM’s. And plenty of them have brown locks and trimmed facial hair, but they ain’t you. So, I did the only thing I could do…I changed the alert sound for your texts. So that if ever, you want to say hey, I’ll hear it and know it’s you… and not Anthony, Casey, Devon, Michael, Zach, etc.
Fuck them. I’d ghost them in a heartbeat. Damn, five hours and I was under your spell. You were a gentleman. Thank you for that. I really do think you are a good kid deep down. I mean, there is the lying. That’s a problem, but I will overlook it. If you overlook some shit I do/did. 😉
Okay, so I really need to be over him. I feel ridiculous. OH, one other thing…speaking with another one of you, I learned a lot more about what guys are doing to the ladies although the ghosting thing seems to be a lingering problem. At least it’s not just me! Anyway, thought about doing a podcast. But you know I don’t know how to do that and DAVE isn’t around to help me. Maybe I can drunkenly record myself talking about Bumble and Tinder and put it up on Twitter? Sounds more likely.
Some people get sad and drunk and sit down at the piano. I guess I will just stick to this keyboard. Lucky you. I need more vodka….
Fuck Netflix and Chill,