The One Who “Wasn’t Ready.” – Hinge.

Yeah, look (listen)… This one is a bit sadder than it is funny or amusing. And I’m not proud of this one because I had real feelings invested and real hurt feelings from a story I plan to tell in future that influenced this situation. But I’m choosing to tell it, and to tell it far earlier than I had ever planned, because I hope in one way or another it strikes a chord with someone, and potentially saves someone else from feeling or doing this exact thing. Deep breaths. Here we go.

In 2019, and after finding out my ex had been cheating on me a lot and was leaving me to be with the girl he cheated on me with, I took some time off to gather myself, then got back the apps, not intending to meet anyone but to just get back in the swing of dating and to show myself that not all men are bastards as my breakup may or may not have lead me to believe. This is when I met a boy on Hinge (who we’ll call Logan in homage to my favourite Gilmore Girls boyfriend (don’t @ me)) who was actually pretty sweet – a DANGEROUS trait in boys on dating apps, but we’ll get to that.

I was just getting back on the horse after my heart was ripped out and shit on repeatedly by someone I was crazy in love with, when Logan appeared on the scene, and boy did that happen fast. He messaged me for the first time on a Tuesday and we had a date organised for that same Friday night that week by close of business Thursday. We got on ridiculously well, conversation was easy and natural, we had a very similar sense of humour; neither of us took anything too seriously and had a banter filled, flirty, jokey text exchange. Sounds pretty great huh? Oh, you naïve fool, you.
He showed up to my house for our date (I made us dinner and we had a decent chat after, just getting to know one another and keeping an eye on the footy scores) and it was actually all pretty good. Over the next week the text exchange continued, of the same vein as the one the week before – against all odds, things were looking alright. He invited me to go out the following Saturday night after repeatedly and kind of forcefully trying to organise all week to hang out on various nights because “he was excited to see me again.” Even going so far as to message me all night while drunk on a boys night out, wanting to come hang out one night when I had a family dinner I hadn’t told him about, and wanting to hang out when I was getting my hair cut. He also almost came to drinks with a group of work friends because he was so keen to get another date on the books.
Things between us seemed to be on the right track, and that Saturday night we opened up to each other and became even closer, something I have always struggled with, and still struggle with because of experiences such as this. But who am I to question it when a boy tells you (repeatedly) how amazing, cute, funny and great you are, how he’s starting to like you and enjoys your sense of humour. (SPOILER ALERT – this is never the case, and only someone damaged like me falls for this absolute wad of bullshit.) Conversation was natural, jokes were fun, everything felt easy and it probably propelled us in that direction a lot more than either of us expected. Through the night there were times when he would look at me and just smile, he kept reminding me how cute I am and how well he thought things were going, even occasionally commenting that he could see us continuing and wanted to do more of the same things with me. Eep.

But then there were the flickers in his eye of the not so nice. DISCLAIMER – Please do not mistake me saying that for me seeing something dark or dangerous in him – he doesn’t and I know he probably didn’t intend for things to transpire the way they did, but I also never suspected any serial killer qualities in him – despite the numerous jokes I made to that affect both to him and to others, I wasn’t worried there would be some Ted Bundy-esque side of his personality that hadn’t reared it’s head yet. He was somewhat recently out of a long term relationship, something we spoke about in depth that night and bonded over how our hearts had been so broken by people we had given so much to (Danger, Will Robinson.) Things could so easily go from light and fun to deep and meaningful, and I felt like we bonded really well.
I’m not someone who enjoys physical contact when I’m on a date, I find it kind of uncomfortable and considering it was a second date, it was a lot for me to be as physically involved with someone, as well (and no you dirty minded freak I don’t mean sex, though we did sleep together that was only a very minor part of this story, and was not the “bad” element to it, though in the end it did leave me feeling used.) I had an incredibly physically and emotionally abusive boyfriend when I was young and have always struggled with being touched by people as a result, even if that person is someone I see as inherently good I am still scarred – a scar that even 7 years on has not faded. So when on the train home after a few drinks I decided to put my head on his shoulder and snuggle in a little bit, it should’ve been a sign that I was comfortable and happy in his presence. It’s not something I’m especially used to but it did feel right and ok with him. (By now if you’re not screaming “YOU ABSOLUTE FUCKING IDIOT” then maybe you, too, are on the same deluded path I was.)
Back at his car, after we drove around chatting for a while longer, he dropped me home and said his goodnights and then I didn’t hear from him for 2 days. Normally, our conversations came naturally and quickly, Logan wasn’t the type to wait a certain amount of time before contacting me again. He was prompt on responding and even started a conversation right after our first date where he told me he wasn’t really looking for it to be a one or two-time thing, and he hoped I hadn’t gotten that impression, as he wanted to keep seeing me. (Cue hysterical laughing from the peanut gallery.) He insisted that he thought I was pretty cool and was keen to see me again, so this action on his behalf felt… Off.
Monday night I was at home watching a recording of The Bachelor from the week prior when I get the text.
Hey * redacted first name *, Hope you’re well! This fucking sucks, and I’m really sorry to do this to you, but…”
It did go on after that but that’s when I stopped reading. He was the boy who didn’t understand how someone could intentionally hurt another in the way my ex had intentionally caused me so much pain. He was the boy who thought I was “so fucking beautiful.” (a sentiment I have never heard before – not previous to meeting him and not since meeting him.) He was the boy who made me think that maybe trusting people isn’t the worst thing. My, how the mighty have fallen.
A quick back and fourth of texts where he told me he didn’t mean to hurt me and “felt bad about it”, and me unloading just how much it hurt me… He removed me from Facebook and was (within the week) posting Instagram stories basically every day with another girl. They went on hikes, went to the Queen Vic Night Markets, played footy in the park, the whole kit and caboodle, mere days after he told me how he couldn’t keep dating anyone because he was still so hurt and not over what had happened. Ha. I later found out he had seen this new girl the very next day (hence the distance from me) and chosen her, but not even had the decency to tell me the truth, instead lying to me (aren’t people just the best? I love being a respected adult.)

Now, a quick note to you, Logan. I know I said I wouldn’t include you on here, but hey. You got to lie, so why shouldn’t I? I’m writing this, not as revenge, but rather in hopes that someone out there sees this and at least remembers not to do this when they one day meet 2 people they “really like” and need to make a choice. Lying always bites you in the arse.
You are the worst kind of person on this blog. I’d rather be able to laugh about 10 guys calling me chubby or telling me how ugly I am, because their opinions weren’t and will never be the ones I value. I value the opinions of the people who help me open up and teach me to trust. I value the opinions of people who not only tell me I’m beautiful, but make me feel it. I value the opinions of people who make me comfortable and happy and safe when I’ve always really struggled with that. I valued your opinion and you let me down big time by telling me how much you liked me and almost forcing us to get so close, only to lie to me and not even care about it, after all that nonsense you sprouted about how great I am and how much you liked me (which I now recognise as another lie you told.) Not today, Satan. Not today.
In the spirit of honesty, let’s have some on my end. I went on a date the week after we last saw each other. I just don’t go posting it everywhere to rub it in, because at the time I genuinely felt for you when you said you weren’t ready because of what your ex did to you. I’ve been there. I’m still not entirely over all the abuse I copped at 14 from a sociopath with a pocket knife, as my fear of being touched will show.

If any of you out there are ever in Logan’s position, tell the truth to both sides and don’t drag one through hell for fun. You don’t know what wounds you’re opening up by being so forward and pushy, and you don’t know how your thoughtless, disrespectful behaviour will come back to haunt you. Maybe it’ll be when you’re caught in the act, or maybe it’ll be when the girl you lied to makes money off your story on a blog about the weirdos she met on the internet 🙂

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