Its been a few weeks if not a little over a month that Rebound Babe and I have spending time together. The good morning texts, to the random photos throughout the day, evening calls to chat about our day, and planning of weekend have been occurring. At what point does your Rebound Babe start to become your Babe? I’m not really too sure, but I think we’re hovering right around that mark right now. The one part of me is absolutely loving the affection and attention… but the other part of me is screaming SLOW DOWN.
It’s been about 3 months since #whiteboy and I broke up, and while I was completely devastated when we ended it, I knew I was going to be ok. There was a large part of our relationship, especially towards the end, where there wasn’t anything romantic left. It was pure companionship… but he was my best friend. So the one half of me that thinks it’s too soon to be developing these feelings towards Rebound Babe, you’re just misplacing the feelings from #whiteboy to the next boy. But the other part of me is saying, you’ve been alone for almost a year… spread your wings and fly. So I’ve dove deep into the arms of Rebound Babe and accepted every invitation, welcomed all his love…. and even worse have lied to my girlfriends about the amount of time I’ve been spending with him. All so I can get my time with him, with no judgement.
Why though? Why do I care? Maybe because I know that they’re right. I need to pump the breaks a bit. Take it slow, date a little more, enjoy being single, enjoy being just Maureen again. So I take their advice and and get to the swiping. As soon as I open the app, I get a notification of a Super Like, and… hey! He’s actually pretty cute. So I swipe right and then get to reading his mini bio. Damn. He’s kinda already calling people out about making sure they have something interesting to say… or to not say anything at all. Hmmm. This guy could be annoying. Let’s see where this goes. He mentions that the end of his bio that he is an ENTP. If you’re not familiar with the Meyer-Briggs Personality Test, I highly recommend taking the quick little quiz to see what you are.
I am an ENTJ (Extrovert-Intuition-Thinking-Judgment) apparently my personality type encompasses only 2% of the world’s population, and it makes me “The Commander”. Although I know what this means about me, I never thought to include it on a dating app as a method to describe myself. Since this new prospect and myself are only 1 letter off from one another, I ask him what this ENTP stands for. To which he send me a link. The Commander meets The Debater. This is one part of the description of this personality type, “No one loves the process of mental sparring more than ENTP’s as it gives them a chance to exercise their effortlessly quick, broad accumulated knowledge base, and capacity for connecting disparate ideas to prove their points.” Yup. This guy loves to talk, and loves to argue. To which quickly his messages already dive deep into a verbal sparring match. Intrigued, we swap numbers and continue to chat over texts for the next few days.
Like I mentioned, my feelings are definitely starting to develop for Rebound Babe. So what does this mean? I’m probably going to end up ruining this somehow, is what this means. Sunday night comes and goes and I wake up Monday morning from a text from Rebound Babe at 4am, and he’s just leaving a party. And suddenly I feel the fuming steam lift up from my chest, and suddenly I am ANGRY. Like pissed off, some one killed my baby, ANGRY. All I can think is, “Who the fuck were you with?”, or “Why are you out until 4am?!” So I do the usual, and in pure rebellion I don’t respond to him all morning. It’s that ridiculous game that we all try to play, of who has the most power. Those who have the power will not get hurt, right? It means, I am the one who is dictating where this shall go, or if it all stops here. Of course, this is what we all like to believe in this stupid game of dating. So Rebound Babe starts with the texts similar to, “Good Morning Beautiful, I hope you have a great day today.” To, “Where are you my beautiful Butterfly?” To, “I guess you’re having a busy day. I hope to hear from you later.’
What’s wrong with me? Why couldn’t I just talk to him and tell him what upset me. Instead, what do I do? I respond to the The Debator and made plans for dinner later that evening. I mean, why not? It’s not like I have anything else better to do on a Monday night. We toss a few ideas back and forth and he then sends a text my way, and asks, “2 questions: 1. Do you mind going Dutch? 2. Are you willing to drive out to my area?”
The one part of me goes take a step back and thinks, “So I guess this isn’t really the type of date that I was looking for. Maybe I should decline.” But then the other side of me thinks, “Well, maybe this is a good thing. At least I can control/limit my now 3 drink minimum, to just 1 cocktail. And if I’m not having a good time, I can always pop into my car and leave.” So I agree with the terms and he sends me the address to our destination.
The fact that I don’t fuss much over my outfits or the usual prep that I go through for these dates, makes me take pause. Granted, I’m still putting thought and effort into every occasion, but I’m not so concerned, or second guessing every aspect. Is it that I don’t really care about the date? Or is it that through this process, I am becoming more comfortable with myself and who I am? I would love to delve deeper into this thought, but maybe I’ll reserve this for another blog topic.
I throw on a relatively easy outfit, nothing that says I’m trying to hard, because after all, it is only Monday… but still casually chic & sexy. So I go with a leather moto jacket, my favorite crisp white shirt, my Rag & Bone Skinny jeans…. and my latest ultimate find… my green stain floral booties from Zara. Hair, check. Lipstick, check. Louie V, check. Quick glance in the mirror and out the door.
He picks a restaurant in WeHo, which I’m surprised with since he said he lives in NoHo. I was expecting to make the trek out to see him, but he decided on something in between the two of us. He also picks a restaurant that’s fairly simple. It’s a spot that I usually go to during lunch, not really the date night kinda spot. But whatever, I’m letting him steer the course. I get to the restaurant before him, which I absolutely despise. I love being the one who walks up while they wait for me. As I stand there at the front of the restaurant I pick up my phone and send the location of my whereabouts to my Good Good Girlfiends, and as it sends I look up, and it’s The Debator. Wow. Not cute. I mean… he totally looks like his pictures, but there’s something weird about his face when he makes an expression… or talks… or breathes… or anything. Oh well, Homie Hug, “Hello”.
We get to the order window, and to my surprise, he goes first. Doesn’t say give the “Ladies First” option. He finishes placing his order, and the cashier says, “And for you?”
Me: Oh, no we’re paying separate.
Cashier: *SIDE EYE* to The Debator
The Debator: No, it’s ok, I got you.
Me: Seriously, I got it.
The Debator: Seriously. Order.
Now there’s a weird awkwardness that’s left looming. But I go ahead and order my salmon plate with roasted corn and brussels sprouts. Grab our table number and take a seat. At this point of the night is where the usual convo of get-to-know-you chit chat happens. Or at minimum, “How was your day?” But none of that really happens. Instead, his first questions to me is, “So what brings you to Tinder?”
Me: Wow, we really going there already? Cocktails are even here yet. (I laugh because we never ordered any cocktails.)
The Debator: I mean, yeah, why not?
Me: I suppose the same reason why everyone else is. Looking to meet people and have a good time.
The Debator: So, like you’re looking to sleep with every guy you meet?
Me: Uhhh… That is not what I said.
The Debator: So then what did you mean?
Me: Exactly what I said, I broke up with my boyfriend a few months ago, and I went on Tinder to meet people, go on dates, have some fun stories to tell… this one won’t be in the “fun” category if it continues like this. (Laughingly),
The Debator: Oh wow, so you just ended something. Ok? How long and why did you break up?
Me: 4 and a half years, and we broke up because I wanted to get married and have kids. He did not.
The Debator: (Pause) Wow, that wasn’t the answer I was expecting. I thought it was going to be something like, you cheated on him and he found out.
Me: Not all relationships have to end in such a dramatic manner. Sometimes relationships just don’t work out.
The Debator: To me, that excuse just sounds like you didn’t try hard enough.
Now, I’m not going to narrate every aspect of our conversation, but this topic continued on for awhile. Where everything that I said became something to question, he wanted me to explain why I thought that way and then he argued back why I was wrong. I mean every weird topic and conversation that shouldn’t be part of a first date was happening. I remember glancing down at my plate, and I had only finished about half of it, and was utterly exhausted. And irritated to be completely honest. I mean, I’ve never met someone who was so argumentative over EVERYTHING. We even got into a debate over what the difference of roasted corn and barbecued corn was. Another part of the night, I recall glancing down at my watch and thinking, “Holy Shit, its only been an hour. When’s an appropriate time to end this date?”
The rest of the evening continues on with debates of the purpose of marriage, why do women care about chivalry so much, what does a man paying for dinner mean, gender fluidity, racism, how people in Orange County are complete snobs (I grew up in OC- regardless of whether or not that statement was true and reflective of me was besides the point). I mean, you can see where this date is going. Disasterous. Clearly, I am not interested in him. And he is not interested in me.
Eventually I do the, “Ok it’s getting late and it’s Monday, I gotta get going.” To which he agrees and then offers to walk to me to my car. I tell him, it’s not that big of a deal, it’s just across the street. But he continues on with me anyway. When we get to my car, he says, “Cool, well, I hope you get home safely.”
Me: Yeah, if we do this again, we’ll need some cocktails to discuss some less serious topics like abortion or the death penalty.
The Debator: Oh, I don’t drink.
Me: Ok, bye. (Slams car door shut)
Wow, what a terrible evening. I quickly get onto my group chat and tell the girls I’m fine and about to head home. Brief summary of the nights events as I turn down Santa Monica Blvd to get home.
Why am I putting myself through all of this? Making meaningless connections and conversations with random ass people on a dating app? Especially when there is a man who is offering his heart, pure intentions, fantastic conversation, and makes my heart skip a beat every time I see him. Why am I fighting this connection with Rebound Babe so hard? I roll into my apartment and take off my super cute booties, and I hear a *knock-knock* text notification, and it’s The Debator telling me that he had a wonderful time tonight, and wanted to do it again.
Clearly we weren’t on the same date. I drop by phone down as I rip off my jacket and throw on some PJ’s. I hear a faint ringing, annoyed thinking it’s going to be The Debator wanting to chat more about shit I don’t care about, but instead it’s Rebound Babe. The deep baritone register of his voice is on the other end suddenly gets me on cloud 9, “Hi Mama, I’ve missed you. How was your day?” The weight of the night instantly is forgotten as we chat for 2 hours about anything and everything.