Single in the City are the dating stories of your neighbors and friends. Names have been changed and all are anonymous, but we can't wait to commiserate on the ridiculousness of dating.
Last week I matched on Bumble with a man that lives in the Upper East Side. We’ll call him Mr. UES.
(Sidebar: Whenever I see “UES” I think, “xoxo, gossip girl.” Anyone else think that too?)
Mr. UES seemed all right at first, and was the rare Bumble match that didn’t immediately ask how soon we would fuck.
The convo moved from Bumble to text. That’s when things got weird.
Mr. UES asked me out. I said yes, and asked how he wanted to spend the first date.
He responded: “Make out.” “Lay in your lap.” These weren’t the responses I was expecting from a man who claimed to want an LTR (long term relationship). Red flag number one.
The next evening we were texting. I asked what he was up to. Mr. UES said, “Watching porn and falling asleep.” Um, ew. Nothing wrong with that plan for an evening at home, but it just rubbed me the wrong way. Red flag number two.
Despite all this texting with Mr. UES, no concrete date plan had been made, beyond making out and lap-laying. I tried to make a plan by suggesting places to go—despite the red flags. (I’m guilty of giving people the benefit of the doubt when I shouldn’t.)
Mr. UES made it clear he didn’t want to come to Jersey City. Red flag number three.
I’m willing to travel to Manhattan, and fully expect a date to be willing to come to Jersey City.
That was it. I canceled the vague date plan that existed and went silent.
Mr. UES texted two days later asking if this was my way of ghosting. I replied that I was busy, but didn’t think we were on the same page and wished him well.
This polite rejection compelled Mr. UES to insist I explain myself. I said that I don’t have to. He called me a flaky bitch. I told him he’s entitled to his opinion. Then he called me an asshole. I pointed out that he was the one name-calling, and those responses confirmed my decision to move on.
I blocked him and unmatched him on Bumble, happy that I dodged a bullet.