But what she didn’t expect was for him to become her dating coach. You reel them in with jokes and then…” He continued to stare at me blankly. And if someone didn’t get that, that was OK with me. “You have to tell me about all the messages that come in,” said my friend, pleased with our work. She is also the author of Save the Date, a memoir about what she learned about relationships, friendship, marriage, love and herself after attending 17 weddings.
I cried a little, I wrote it out, I sent some hardcore telling-it-like-it-is texts before I stopped texting entirely, and I shook my fist at the sky and vowed revenge.
Then I did what many of us do in these times of need. Tinder, the dating app, was where I’d met my ex, and my ex before that, too. Just spend a little more time on the old app — — and, poof, another guy to date. Write that on your profile.” “Oh, I don’t know,” I said.
Of course, after a breakup, once you start putting the clues together, it seems like you never should have expected anything else – the red flags were lined up in a row waving in your face, and the only reason you failed to see them was that you didn’t want to look. I was ever more sure he had never Tindered; he probably met all his girlfriends at psychology conventions or walking through Paris in the springtime.
Still, I took it like a champ — at least, I thought so.
Our series of true dating stories continues with today’s essay by Jen Doll. Why was it that being clever and sarcastic and keeping people on their toes was more “acceptable” than asserting what you wanted and letting the possible dates sort themselves into those who wanted the same things, and those who would walk away and wish you well? This idea of knowing what you wanted and actually saying it, it was scary — but it resonated. I wanted someone who knows himself, a good driver (I’ve ridden with too many bad ones), a person who was aligned with me politically.