Dearest Matthew,
First of all, I have decided to use your Christian (?) name not out of disrespect or anything like that, but more because as of this moment, you are still the only Matthew I know. Plus, it's always so much more fun to use one's real name and put them on blast.
:)
Matthew, oh Matthew. Where to start? I guess I'll be mature and say that it was a pleasure/pain in my ass to talk to/meet you. Why was it a pleasure? Well, after that creepy online dating incident of this year (FUTURE POST!!!), I had given up hope in the opposite sex. You reminded me that not all guys are jerks who have creeper-status tendencies. Talking to you was a reminder of all the things I fundamentally believe in as a mass romantic. (I know, I know. Blame it on romance novels and rom-coms. But you know what? Say what you will about this genre, there's always a happy ending there, unlike everyday life.) I was reminded that guys don't have to be complete douchebags, and drunk texts don't have to include awkward sexting because... who really wants that? It's awkward and uncomfortable for all parties involved. (It really is, people.) And for a second there, I believed that this year wouldn't exactly suck, with regards to guys that is. So thank you.
And then I never heard from you again. This is why you're a pain in the ass. I really don't get it. We met and that was it. Why? I'd like to think that things went swimmingly, not exactly at swell-level, but good enough for things not to end there. Soooo... what happened? Was it me? Was it something I did? Was it because of the hug? Because I have to say, if it was because of the hug, it isn't the weirdest I've gone of a guy with regards to touching. The guy who popped my cherry had to deal with much worse and I can totally understand why I never heard from him again, if he's still alive that is. (LOLZ!!! OMG, of course I want you to still be alive Weekend Warrior! Live long and prosper!)
I don't know. Like a month of texting, and building up expectations, and one hour later that's it? It's so fucking disappointing. And this is why you're this year's sadpanda. Sadpanda was a fucker, who, for lack of better wording, broke my heart (???) last year. Actually no, he guided the path to me losing all hope in men by making me feel as though I didn't deserve the attention of any guy whatsoever unless I'm a time-filler; that I was just someone to talk to when you were bored, because, god forbid, I should actually be worth dating.
Matthew, you are this year's sadpanda. And, in case you missed it, no, that is no compliment whatsoever.
I really wanna hate you, but I can't because you were just being a dude about it. You didn't lead me on to the level that that fucker did: for months. It's not just that I can't hate you, but more like I refuse to. Hating you would be a wasted emotion.
So, here it is, Matthew, I forgive you for being a dude. I hope you able to extend the same courtesy to someone someday.
Keep in mind: don't bother texting me EVER again, or else I will let you have it. Or bother asking me for a favor. I know its odd to say, but people these days... Psshhh. Douche bag status.
And because I have some more material, here are some stray observations from my ONLY meeting with Matthew, aka, that one time that lasted less than an hour:
- Ugh, you wanted to meet at Del Amo... No.
- I know I looked like shit, but if you had given me more time my hair would've looked WAYYY better.
- Your hair reminded me or Mark Wahlberg's hair in Ted. (I love that movie!)
- You really don't look like a cat owner.
- That shirt was really tight. Maybe time to retire that Fender tee?
- Maybe you do look like a cat owner.
- Hey, if you were "laid off" or whatever, how do you have money for booze and groovy times with friends?
- Your friend works at the movies and you get to see all these movies for free??? I need a friend that works at the movies.
- "Hipster sampler"? Dude, look in the mirror. No offense, but you totally looked like a hipster, and it made me kinda want to punch you. And now I don't believe you are in a metal band whatsoever.
- It was a bit of a douche move to bring up this blog and say that I blame all my problems on men. I really don't. I blame all the world's problems on men. Just something to think about but when was the last time a woman started a war???
- I did notice the big ass sweat stains underneath your pits. I observe everything. And I do mean EVERYTHING.
- I did notice the bulge.
- Also, was that really a bulge???
- If it was a bulge, it was a pretty big bulge.
- You were totally nervous weren't you? That's adorable.
- I may not be fond of you, but that Barbie story was adorable... and funny.
- Being spontaneous is great because some people, like me, hate plans because they make us nervous and paranoid but at least have some kind of idea of what the hell you want to happen. Pulling shit out of you ass on the spot makes shit even more awkward.
- I'm not a huger and I REFUSE to apologize for that. Hugging is weird.
- You really should feel gross about the fact that you text people from the toilet. It's very gross. I can't believe I let you hug me. I need a shower now.
- And, I would've been willing to go all the way on the second "date" or whatever, because, apparently, that's me. Ticket the first time, down and dirty the second.
Because I'd like to think that this song goes with the seriousness of this post (or at least the half of this post that was serious):
"Hey Now" by London Grammar
And, because, non-stop replay. Obvs.
Until next time, kiddies.
:)