And the wicked have come.

I finally found my first overt jerk on Tinder. Obviously Mr. Nice Guy wasn’t the paragon of virtue I thought him to be, and neither was the Investment Broker. The Traveler guy with the pretty eyes (we’re revoking his nickname due to the shortness of his existence in our world) seemed nice, but lacked any conviction.

I’m still a little miffed at him because I was going to go do that painting on my own, but he soured it for me a bit.

But this guy… Whew! He’s the guy you read about on those Tinder line sites. Man, how I wish I’d taken a screen shot before I “unmatched” him. 

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His pictures were… interesting. He only had one pic that actually showed him, and it was in a nice contrapposto pose and didn’t show his face straight on. I liked the artistic nature of the shots he chose to post. It gave me hope that he was at least mildly intellectual.

We matched but it was nearly the next day before he said anything.

Then again there are plenty of guys in my Tinder box that never say anything. I had one today that hit me up but we’d matched nearly a week ago…

No, I’m not making the first move. I know that I should probably “take a risk,” but it seems I always end up being the one who chases, and EVERYONE tells me I should not do that… It seems to scare the men-folk off.

So when this guy finally made contact, this is what he said:

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“Let’s get naked.”

Now, as I’ve been kvetching about boys not being up front with what it is they actually want, this was actually a nice bit of honesty, albeit completely lacking any intellectual prowess or even the slightest bit of seductive skill.

So I responded:

“Not today. But maybe. Why should we get naked together?”

I was curious if he could be tempted to engage in titillating banter, or if he was going to be the type to say the digital equivalent of “Nice shoes; wanna fuck?”

Much to my chagrin, he was the latter.

He actually had the audacity to wish me luck because “Maybe isn’t good enough…”

To which I told him that was a shame because half the fun in the game was him convincing me to let my inner freak out. I was hoping for some verbal foreplay. Instead he sent me his cell number and told me to send him a pic of my tits.

Since that’s one of my bitch triggers, I unmatched him.

…Before I could get a screen shot of it to add to any number of the sites for posting the most ridiculous Tinder lines.

That’s not even a line!! Ugh! The laziness of some guys.

Since then there’s been a bit of a downfall in the quality of the guys who’ve shown up to play on Tinder.

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The 4 guys in the Tinder cue are slowly fading out. One exception, and we’re going to call him the Comedian, since that is what he’d like to do. That or photography, but given that EVERYONE wants to be a photographer to get their stuff online, we’re going with the Comedian angle.

Plus, it’s probably going to be problematic due to the Aspie literalness… I’m hoping the nickname will help to remind me that I can’t take him literal. Ever.

So, the Comedian has a boring day job at which he works 12 hours a day, but has dreams of doing photography and comedy. He spent a great deal of the weekend working on a photo shoot at a Ren Fest. I had thought he was ghosting, but then yesterday he was back with a force!

Among the other things I know, he cannot cook and so would like a home-cooked meal.

And he’s got a child, which isn’t a deal breaker, but does make me a teensy bit sad because I’m ready to be a mom. Maybe sad isn’t quite the right word. More like envious. Everyone around me is having kids it seems. Except me and my broken self.

But we’ll get into that in a bit.

Back to the Comedian. He seems really nice, and funny, and there’s definitely the witty banter in our texting, so it’s bought him enough points for a date… If he’ll ever get around to just asking me.

He’s one of those hints guys…

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We sort of, tentatively have maybe plans for this weekend. But until he actually shows up, I’m not getting my hopes up.

Besides, I’m a little cautious about getting hooked on him anyhow. He’s a little shorter than I am without my gorgeous heels that I love, and I had pretty much decided that the height requirement needed to be tall enough I could wear my heels and not feel guilty or self conscious about being taller than my date. The heels are out for this one.

And he’s not at all concerned about money. Not because he has loads of it, which would be nice, but because he is of the mindset that money is overrated.

Now, I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not good with money. At all. Like, it’s an imaginary thing to me, so I’m not good at taking care of things where money is involved at all. I can’t save it, I don’t know how I manage to spend more than I should, even though I have a budget book, and Get really annoyed that I have to even think about it most days.

But that’s kind of why I need a man who is responsible with his money. I actually need someone who will take care of it for me, give me an allowance, and pat me on my rump and send me on my merry way. Two people who are bad with money is not a good combination.

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But he’s sweet. And he keeps texting every now and then. Like I said, yesterday he came back en force! He even wanted to meet with me for a movie yesterday, but I felt like crap. I hadn’t slept in over 24 hours, and I was frazzled from normal work stuff.

We’ll see if he still has staying power.

The other guy who contacted me recently was a cop, and when he finally got around to messaging me, he sent “Hey beautiful, hru?”

HRU?

I can only guess that means “how are you?”

It clearly states on my profile that I’m an English teacher, and while I don’t always use the most proper of grammar, I do draw the line at text speak like HRU!

I didn’t even respond. Just unmatched him immediately!

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At this rate, I’ll never find anyone to date. Maybe I am too picky, but we’ll just chalk it up to my brokenness.

Really, my entire being is just waiting for the Boy to realize that I mean it when I say I’m sorry and let me start over. I gave him a do-over. And part of what always made me so nervous (which led to bitchiness) was that I didn’t see him trying to actually do things over. He just wanted to move onto a new thing. I got fixated on trying to get back to a good place that I didn’t let him lead me to the good place he wanted to go.

And now we don’t actually speak. Everyone’s probably ready for me to just let him go, but I have a real problem with that. One of the things about people on the spectrum is that we like routines. I’ve tried all my life not to be one of those people, but I’ve been noticing for a while (even before I allowed myself to call myself an Aspie) that I NEED my routines. And well, the problem is that my daily conversations with the Boy have become part of my routine.

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A really big part of my routine.

I mean, I freaked out when Mr. Nice Guy stopped texting with the same amount of fervor after two dates. Maybe 2 weeks of interaction total. Within 2 weeks, I had established him as part of my routine. Enough so that when he stopped responding, I became unhinged a little bit.

I saw myself repeating things I’d said to the Boy when he first told me he didn’t want the same things I wanted.

I had thought it was just that I was excited about Mr. Nice Guy, like I had been with the Artist. He and I didn’t have an established routine, but I wanted to get to know him better. But, my worry with Mr. Nice Guy was about the fact that I was texting already less than we had been, and he was responding even less often than that. I was convinced that I was being ghosted because of the lack of communication that suddenly happened after that second really amazing date.

Much like when the Boy decided he didn’t want to date me, and then suddenly I felt like I was chasing him. It’s one of the things that we never really came to an agreement on. I felt like he had definitely been wooing me in the beginning because of the frequency we would talk. Seriously, it would be all day every day, especially when he was offshore. Starting around 9 or 10 in the morning, he’d message me, and then we’d talk throughout the day until I’d finally fall asleep. I even texted him while I was on a date a few times because our conversations had been better than the ones I’d been having with my date.

That pattern continued even after we started seeing more of each other. Then suddenly he didn’t want to date me anymore, and the conversations got shorter, and I was the one to initiate them more, and then they all but stopped unless I started it. I didn’t know what was going on, I still don’t understand what I did wrong… But I think I understand now that it made me so very uncalm because of the Asperger’s.

The Boy had become a necessary element of my daily routine. He took that away without any provocation or reason. It upset my world flow. I became unhinged then, too. Only, unlike with Mr. Nice Guy, I was convinced the Boy was worth fighting for. It was important for me that we reestablish our communication. It was one of the things I needed him to admit to, and to fix. I needed him to start the conversations more often. Because that was my barometer of whether or not we were okay.

I don’t even know if that makes sense to anyone other than me, but it is what it is. And now, he’s not talking to me again, and I can feel my routine shuddering under the burden of a change in the routine again. The tremors are made worse by the knowledge that it’s my fault.

My fault, and I can’t fix it. I feel very helpless.

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So back into Tinder I dive. Here’s hoping I find a solution for the massive hole in my life now. Preferably a solution not filled with totally wicked boys out for just one thing.

And preferably a solution devoid of crying. Every t-shirt I have has saltwater stains from my tears this last week or more.

I guess, wish the Comedian luck. He seemingly wants to stay around for a while.

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