Fifty First Tinder Dates: II – Bobby Vito

I debated and nearly decided not to write about this date. It was actually a really good date. I wish I could go back and talk to the waitress, Kerry, about it. But I am getting ahead of myself. Let me go back to the beginning…

Let me start with my Tinder profile.

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Actual JMo profile on Tinder. Please note: I change it regularly. But this is the one I had when Bobby V was interested in me.

Let me start with the last line:  CLEARLY this is tongue in cheek but also kind of apropos. Dating apps are about meeting strangers. Let’s be honest! And I’ve watched enough Dateline and 48 Hours to know that shit happens. I was just covering my bases by saying “Hey, if you are going to kill me, make it quick. I don’t want to be tortured or strung up etc.”  Just keep this in the back of your mind, okay? (Also, kind of a joke, albeit not a funny one).

So, Bobby Vito is almost ten years OLDER than me. Which is not the norm for JMo. I usually stick to guys younger than me, which you know if you’ve read any of my older posts yet. But this guy seemed interesting, nice body/teeth and has a steady job. AND wanted to take me on a proper date! Color me interested!

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CEO? Yeah, CEO of Asshat, Inc.

We moved over to texting because the Tinder app sucks for correspondence. Let’s be honest. And we had wonderful exchanges. He wasn’t creepy or sending dick pics. He seemed like a gentleman, so I was definitely interested.

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This was what he said after reading my Profile on Twitter. I’m “refreshing direct.” Keep this in mind.

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OMG, you picked me flowers??

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“I picked them using my camera” = Too cheap to actually pick you a wildflower

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Day of our first Tinder date.

Ok, so yes, we went to Davio’s, an Italian Steakhouse, and kind of expensive. Like I said, he asked me out and let me choose where we went. It was a super hot summer day and most of the restaurant was empty. Our waitress was Kerry. She was super attentive and nice. She saw Bobby Vito and I dining for THREE HOURS and helped us with our meals/beverages the whole step of the way.

Bobby and I had a lot to talk about. One of the things I brought up was my finding out that he worked for the local Archdiocese. This interested me because a) I wasn’t religious anymore and b) if he were, that must mean he is a nice, stand up type of guy. I had to admit that I Googled him before our date, but he didn’t seem bothered. We talked about that stuff for a little bit, but religion didn’t seem to rule his life. So I thought that was cool too. I also kind of thought, hey this might be a sign that I should get closer to God again. (After reading the rest of this post, you will see how much of a poser/phony asshole this guy is. If he believed in Jesus at all, he would be a lot kinder. You’ll see what I mean.)

At one point, BV asked me what I were some things that I was passionate about and/or knew a lot about. His example was his passion of Middle East Asian Textiles, or some horseshit like that. Don’t get me started. He seemed very well rounded and had some odd interests, but it was cool. We chatted some more. I explained to him that I’m passionate about the Disney company, especially the parks and the movies. I spoke to him about Walt and what this world might be like without him. Then I brought up how much I enjoy watching documentaries, especially about true crime and am interested in how evil the human mind can get. Which goes along with my joke about being murdered quickly on my Tinder date. It’s a joke, but not really. There are a lot of weird, crazy people out there!

BV not only spoke fluent Italian (must be helpful at the Vatican *eyeroll*), he knew Latin as well. I have a tattoo across both my feet that says “Dead Men Tell No Tales” in Latin. I don’t usually talk to people about it because they cannot read Latin. But BV could and he asked me about it. I told him that it’s from Disney’s Pirates of the Caribbean ride. Which it is. It’s like super fucking well known.  I also got this tattoo to remind myself that dead writers can no longer write (tell tales), and I like to remind myself of this when I feel suicidal. I’ve fought hard to get where I am in life (even though it sucks) and am proud to continue writing, even if it’s only for a few readers.

We sat there for THREE HOURS (did I mention that?). We had an appetizer, drinks, meals and he ordered TWO desserts for us to share. He also got espresso. He would hold my hand when we weren’t eating or drinking and seemed interested in me and the conversation we were having.

He mentioned how he’s been on bad dates that he wanted to be over after 45 minutes! We lasted for hours. It was nice. I found out that he had another Tinder date that night but I honestly was not worried – mostly because I also had another date that night (he took me to see Toy Story 4!) BUT overall, why worry? We had a great date, BV and I. In fact, look at the text I got shortly after he walked me to my car:

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So, this was an “enjoyable date” and I was “candid, smart, funny” and “fascinating.” HE WROTE THIS. After our date. Pay attention because the next day… Shit really changes.

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So, didn’t hear from him that night because he was out with some other lady, or so I thought. I never thought he had any problems with me after our three hour date and his immediate text after our date. By almost noon the next day I found it interesting that he hasn’t responded to me yet. Hence, “Interesting…”

So, here begins the reason why I didn’t want to write about this date at all: He said the most disturbing, horrible, terrible things about me to me. And I was flabbergasted. I actually called a friend/ex of mine and was sobbing uncontrollably because I was so offended and worried about what he said. Is this how people perceive me when they meet me?! Is this who I am??!!

You see, the last thing I wanted to do was write about this date and then IGNORE his texts to me the next day. I will post most of it here. And you can decide how you would feel if someone sent this to you the day after a very successful first date (that lasted three hours. Just need to throw that in there again).

I’ve thought about it a lot since then, and I am convinced that he spoke about me to his second date and she just totally spun a ridiculous story about how scary I am. Oh, “scary?” you say? Yes, I said that cuz he said it.

Without further ado:

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While talking about my childhood on my date, I had mentioned how I learned some terrible habits from family members, LIKE “I learned how to destroy people emotionally” because that’s how my family treated me. Either keep stuff private, or it will be used against you in the future. At no point did he say to my face, during my date, wow, what you just said makes me scared of you.

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I mean, I DO love True Crime. A lot of old ladies my age do. Also, past resentments? Excuse me? I discussed how my husband of 8 months cheated on me with his boss, and then discussed how I didn’t let it affect the rest of my life. I moved on. You would not know this by his text. PLUS, I’ve been divorced a LONG time. Doesn’t mean I have an OCEAN of past resentments.

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Bitterness? Predictability? “Dating before I healed?” And of course, the kicker: UNDENIABLE POSSIBILITY THAT YOU ARE PHYSICALLY AND EMOTIONALLY DANGEROUS. ??????????????????????????????????????

Sorry, gotta interject here. I lost my shit when he said that. And no, I’m not leaving out anything from the date that would’ve given him pause. Like I said, he seemed very interested in me and didn’t say any of these things to me during our date or during the hug he GAVE to me after the date at my car. So, this really came out of left field. And like I mentioned, it threw me for a huge loops. NO ONE has ever said anything like this to me. I still cannot come to terms with it. Which is why I want to go back to Davio’s and talk to waitress Kerry and say, “You saw us! He was holding my hand. Bought two deserts when I said I didn’t even want one! He wanted to spend time with me! Did I dream all of this or did this happen?”

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WHERE was I threatening? Just wondering.

So yeah, the end.

Back to the Tinder drawing board,

xo scary jmo

P.S. One of the things that bothers me the most? When I am honest with people, and share how I am feeling and they attack me. They don’t take stock in the stuff I am sharing with them and that I am being honest. While I wanted him to slow down and think about the three hours he spent with me, instead he unloaded all this MEAN stuff and I was just shocked. The person he is describing is not me. I am not scary and certainly not a danger to anyone else.

 

FFTD – wyd rn

A big part of a dating app is communication. And I have no idea how to communicate with anyone anymore.

In this day and age, we have the EASIEST ways EVER to let someone down OR ask/tell them something you don’t have the confidence to say face to face, or even over the phone.

No one calls anybody anymore. Which…fine. I have a computer in my pocket where you can send me quick bursts of messages. No email. No phone call. No fax. No carrier pigeon. Literally, a tiny keyboard on my phone, let’s me communicate with someone else with words, or emojis, or pictures or videos. It’s amazing.

And completely impersonal.

You know for an app that is widely known as a Hook Up App, Tinder is a an otherwise terrible place to find people who know how to communicate with each other.

As an English major (and the product of my 11th grade Honors English teacher, Ms. Prince), I came to appreciate the English language. There are so many different words! Some are even dying out! Let’s bring them back!!

But how? God forbid I type in full sentences with proper capitalization and punctuation in a text!! It makes me come across as overbearing and way too serious.

So, if I wanted to explore the dating jungle, I had to learn the mating calls, as well as a whole new language.

I will now share with you, my readers.

Can’t just say “hi” or “hey.” Must add extra letters for no explicable reason. Such as, but not limited to: Hiiii, Heyyyy and

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As well as

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The reason I absolutely don’t get the extra letters AT ALL is because of all the fucking abbreviations I have to figure out on my own!  Sometimes I have to ask!! And remember what I said earlier – Can’t be using correct grammar and spelling and all that shit. Gotta play it kewl (cool: which is the same amount of letters, yet…spelling. *sobs*)

I thought I knew all the hip lingo of the young people: lit, LOL, yolo, a/s/l, groovy, NSFW, etc. But right away I was in for a whole new experience. Gotta learn on your feet. My high school German teacher moved to Germany and learned German by getting a job in the local supermarket. If Frau DeLosh could submerge herself in that culture and thrive, surely I can throw myself into this hip, new language and live to tell about it. Language, after all, is important because it’s how we communicate with one another.

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Oh boy. (#OhBoy on Twitter)

I remember the first word I learned in German. Der Apfel. You see, each noun has its own gender: female, male or neutral. Apples are male. This isn’t relevant, but holy hell, hbu wyd?? At least Apfel kind of looks like Apple. Sounds similar. Easy first lesson. Tinder wasn’t being kind on this newbie.

Can we first start with the fact that those letters each symbolize a word? Ok. But then again, hbu… “how About you” gets even more dumbed down to “how bout u.” “How boot u, eh” if you are Canadian.

Can you see how language is dying right before our eyes?

Ok, let’s move on to next abbreviation: wyd. What are you doing? what you doing.

Regardless of what it means, when my brain SEES ‘wyd’ it only wants to HEAR this, which is the commercial that came out after this one (both classics), and also this (Phineas and Ferb fans know the struggle).

Let’s not forget about ‘wbu’ and the puzzling ‘wru.’

What about you? what bout u.

For the life of me, and without any context clues at all, I got a ‘wru’ message. And I assumed the W was what… What you doing? What about you? what rigatoni u.

WHERE ARE YOU? I had no idea that wru took the place of “Where do you live?”

The tiny but powerful ‘af’ and helpful ‘rn’. As in, “Im hornyyy af rn”

(Have I mentioned that apostrophes and contractions should be kissed goodbye? I truly believe that if I polled 1,000 people between the ages of 20-35, none of them would know the different between “Its” and “It’s” and when it’s appropriate to use one over the other.)

“I am horny as fuck right now!” The swan song of Tinder! I’m not sure how I would explain “as fuck” to aliens just learning English.  “It’s like, ‘a lot.”

Alien: Why not just say ‘a lot?’

Me:

wonka

I gave up asking questions about all of this. Okayyyyyy?

 

BTW (by the way) yes, I know you are horny. You are a man with a penis. It’s a pretty famous theme, like, you guys have made pills for yourselves so that when you are old and your penis is LIMP, you can still get it up. Like, we get it. You are horny right now and all the time, Gollum.

Would you like to see a picture of this language being used in it’s natural habitat?

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A future FFTD!

“So you ain’t trynna…” or “You trynna”

Um, I’m not trying to do anything. If you ask me “You trynna to smoke” my answer is no, I’m not trying to. I’m actually doing do. Do or do not, dude. There is no try. Some smart guy named Hamlet said that a longgg time ago in a country far, far away.

“you trynna get laid”

I’m sorry, Are you talking to me? I am certainly NOT trying to get laid ….

by you.

I mean, why do all guys think I want to fuck them? They are not even tens. Listen, I’m not a ten, but when tens want to get with me, I take notice!! So maybe, sure, sleep with a Chris Evans type…or rather, trynnnna to get with Cap. Sure. But don’t assume I’m trynna to do anything…with you!

Except get high on your weed, drinks and nachos tbh (to by honest).

You feel me?

xojmo

 

 

 

Fifty First Tinder Dates: I – Austin

I’m totally cheating on my very first FFTD post because I want to write about a “second date.” Only because it’s a perfect example of the shit that goes on. Also, I use the term “date” very loosely. It’s hard to find a guy who actually wants to take you out on a date OR just buy you a coffee. I’m still holding out for a gentleman, but until then, I will sift through the smoldering debris that is Online Dating.

I had first met Austin, 25, at his place so we could hang and get stoned. Listen, I’m not gonna lie, if these guys want to smoke me up (for free), I would be hard pressed to say no. So you’ll see a common thread here. 🙂

Austin was attractive. Luscious lips. I’m BIG on lips. And I won’t lie: I kissed those lips! We got along even though he said “You feel me?” way too much but who cares? Yeah, Austin, I feel you. Now pass the blunt.

Austin did not live alone. In fact, his roommate was a much older man. But who am I to judge? I never saw this roommate, but I knew he was around. I just hung out in Austin’s room, watching TV and what not.

So, technically, that First Tinder Date was good! I mean, I got no dinner or drinks. But I got to hang with an attractive man and feel good. Success!

At some point in the near future we made plans to hang out again because we both enjoyed each other’s company the first time! I agreed to make the 40 minute drive back to his place (I’m messy and I hate cleaning up for guests) at the time we both decided on.

I’m always punctual. I parked on the street outside his place. I texted: Hey I’m here. Nothing. I didn’t feel comfortable going up to the front door because of said old roommate, so I just hung out in the car waiting for Austin to get back to me.

I texted more. Called, even. A few times. Nothing. But from where I was parked, I could see his room’s window, shade all the way up, and I could see the television was on. That certainly does not mean he is home, or awake for that matter. I was really confused, and figured he passed out or something.

But after 15 minutes and hearing absolutely nothing from Austin, I finally saw the tv channel change in his room, as well as a shadow. So he IS in there!

What the actual fuck?

So, I did the MOST JMo thing ever: I got out of my car, and went right up to the window. It’s on the side of his house, and I can’t see right in, since the window is a bit above my head.

I threw my car keys up against the screen of the window. His window was closed because the air conditioner (in the other window) is on.

Moments later, I see Austin pop up, probably from his bed. He sees me. I see him. And I do the whole come hither thing with my finger, but not in a sexy way. More like, “Yeah um, get your ass over here since we made plans and I’m here and you’ve been ignoring me.”

In what seems like NOT real life, a smirk shows up on Austin’s face, walks over to the window I’m standing under, like a lame Romeo, – and instead of opening it up and saying “Oh man, how long have you been here?” HE PULLS THE SHADE DOWN!

RIGHT IN MY FACE.

Then walks over to the window with the air conditioner in it, and then pulls the shade down as far as he can there as well.

At my feet, a stray gray cat wondering what I’m doing there. As was I.

I walked back to my car. Tried to reach him again and got nothing.

Nothing like this has ever happened to me before. I mean, I drove all the way there. We’ve already hung out. And he saw me. Saw my face!!

I won’t lie. I cried a lot of my 40 minute drive of shame home. All I could think was, How hard would it have been to text me:

“Hey, don’t come. I hate you now.”

“I’m not home. Sorry, can we reschedule?”

Anything! Even if it was a lie. But I got nothing. It was disrespectful. Embarrassing. Sad. A whole bunch of negative adjectives.

At some point, days later, he tells me that his sister came by with his nephew (I saw neither of these people) and couldn’t hang out. But my thing is: WHY DIDN’T YOU JUST TELL ME? WHY DID YOU LET ME DRIVE ALL THE WAY THERE AND PARK AND WAIT AROUND FOR YOU JUST TO SMIRK IN MY FACE AND PULL THE SHADE DOWN?

Then he offered me $30 (supposedly for the gas I used to get to his place) but it truly just felt like a hooker thing – tossing me a ridiculously small amount of money to shut me up and then try to get me to come by again.

I miss the lips. And the free high. But the shade in my face was such a blatant diss, I cannot bring myself to ever see, or simply trust, Austin again.

Back to sifting,

xojmo