Posted in Dating

Weekend Coffee Share: Why I hate dating.

If we were chit-chatting over coffee (or tea) this weekend, we’d be sitting on my roommate’s comfy leather couch having a quick chat after having gone to the movies. We saw The Beguiled earlier today. I have to admit, the angry-at-all-things-male-at-the-moment part of me was particularly excited to see this movie.

I enjoyed it, though it took me a minute to decide I liked it. It’s not at all like the trailer suggests it will be…

Fair warning: this isn’t really like my usual Coffee Share… not much is going on in my life other than a lot of introspection and some dating snafus. 

So, if you’ve been keeping up with what little hasn’t been removed about the latest dating adventure in my world, you’ll know that it is definitely, without a doubt, completely over. There was a great deal of sadness with it’s ending, and maybe some regret, but I was more prepared for it’s ending than even I thought I was.

I mean, after all, while his actions may have suggested there were feelings, he, like some others in my past, never strayed from verbally confirming that it wasn’t going anywhere. It always had an expiration date. Though I admit I had begun to believe that fact might be alterable, I should have known that, since he was a man, his decision would be final, even though the situation seemingly was more convoluted and thus at least worthy of a second glance.

He said he did think about it seriously for a couple of days, but in the end he decided that I wasn’t special enough to alter his decision… a decision that was based off of a tradition that I didn’t think meant that much to him.

But see, that’s where that whole cultural difference comes in. While I can philosophize about the differences in culture, I didn’t truly understand. Mostly because the art, literature, and movies I’ve seen from said culture suggest to me that there is an equal importance on love as there is here in the U.S.


But that is all for show, and that is where I didn’t understand. Everything about the situation, from what I can glean from things he’s said or done, is about the appearance of the thing.

The reason I was concerned that he was keeping me a secret was because I’m particularly sensitive to the way some men will hide me away… I’ve experienced it enough that I know that when a man isn’t willing to let others know that I exist or that we’re dating, it’s because there is some reason why he doesn’t want people to know I exist. With this guy, I knew he wasn’t already married or dating someone else (like some of the men in my past), so why should it matter? Other than for some reason he didn’t find me worthy of keeping… which I told him at the time we had the argument about him keeping me a secret. 

He responded by telling me that his friends did know I existed. It was just our mutual friends that couldn’t know we were dating… and while that bothered me, at the time it made a bit of sense: when things ended, someone would have to explain to them what happened. At the time, it didn’t seem like such a big deal, because things were going so well, I didn’t really see them ending for a while, and he seemed to like me, so there was a possibility that things wouldn’t end…

Because, remember, love is so very important a part of the equation. And in the absence of love, compatibility is key… and we were seemingly compatible.

Or at least I thought so.


Now, I realize that he didn’t want our friends to know because he knew that other people wouldn’t understand. Hell, it is apparent that didn’t understand just how deep the cultural difference ran.

I didn’t understand that the cultural differences meant that things that were reserved for special, intimate, loving relationships could be thrown around in the name of a purely physical pursuit. I didn’t realize that me commenting and sharing how wonderful and beautiful said intimate, loving things were would be seen as some sort of betrayal because it was meant to be kept between the two parties involved.

On the other hand, though, if they were meant to be kept private, that suggests that there was something special and intimate and of value in them…

If all of it meant nothing, it shouldn’t matter who knew about it. If it meant nothing, who cares if I told the world every little detail?

Which I didn’t actually do… contrary to what he might say/think.

There was a lot of detail, but I didn’t include everything, and I deleted almost all of it out of respect for his feelings.


To be honest with you, I rarely think about it anymore, except when something or someone makes me think about it. Like earlier this week, on the last day of summer school (which I should be celebrating instead of dwelling on this weird romance that wasn’t a romance at all, but just using each other for what we each individually needed, it seems).


On the last day of summer school, some students overheard me explaining briefly what had happened to another teacher. Last she had heard, things were fine with the guy. She was unaware of how a week and half prior things ended in a rather blunt and unpleasant fashion. So I was giving her the short version… oblivious to the fact that some student was ear-hustling (eaves-dropping) on the conversation.

The rumor mill spread, and each class period asked me about my break-up, citing some very incorrect information. So, I politely cleared it up explaining that the difference in his culture and mine meant that he had obligations that trumped whatever we had. I didn’t go into it any further than that, because it wasn’t really their business, but several of my students were rather upset on my behalf and were threatening to find who he was and steal/slash his tires and various other things that are less than legal.

Yeah, my kids love me… even if they show it in not so sweet ways.

Normally I wouldn’t have gone into it at all, but, as I said, someone overheard a tiny bit of what had happened and blew it all out of whack playing telephone.


Meanwhile, on Tinder, I’ve gone through, I don’t know, probably 12 guys that haven’t kept me intrigued enough to actually meet any of them. I’m still actively talking to 2. One refers to himself as “Candymerican,” as in Canadian, Indian, and American all rolled up in one. He seems intellectual enough to keep my interest, but is slow in keeping the conversation going. Not sure if he even actually likes me, and I feel (especially after this latest snafu) like I need to let him know that I am not of Indian descent.

It seems more important than I would have previously thought.

Which is hard for me, seeing as how I don’t seem to belong in any particular cultural group.


Visually, I am racially ambiguous, with most people guessing incorrectly what my ethnicity is, and when people talk to me, they assume (correctly) that I was raised in a white family. Yet white guys think I’m too ethnic to date (or at least the ones I’ve encountered), and ethnic guys think I’m too white…  Most just see me as an exotic girl they want to “experience” to add a notch on their belt, but not worthy of keeping for long term.

I’m tired of being discounted because I don’t belong in a category. I’m tired of being alone because I don’t meet arbitrary criteria like skin color or race. My brain, my intellect, my abilities, my personality aren’t enough.

Never enough.


Kind of to prove my point was one guy that I haven’t 100% determined his own ethnic make-up, but to me, that isn’t important at all. He seemed to have the intellectual requirements that I was looking for, based on the limited stuff on his profile.

And then this conversation occurred:

2017-06-30 085147

That was at some point yesterday. I haven’t heard from him since, and I don’t really think I’m going to hear from him.

Another guy added me on Twitter… Yes, Twitter, not Tinder… and began DMing me to ask me date-like questions:

Him: Married or Single?
Me: Single
Him: Same here. Kids?
Me: No
Him: Same here. How old are you?
Me: Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to ask a lady her age? And also, Twitter is not a dating app… I’ll have a conversation with you if you’d like, but I don’t enjoy being interrogated.
Him: Smile.

And then he continued to try to hit on me. Even after I told him point blank that I wasn’t interested… He finally got the hint after I told him “No thank you,” when he tried to ask me to meet him for coffee.

It’s not that I wouldn’t have been interested under different circumstances, but he only recently joined Twitter, had only 2 tweets, and was following nearly 1400 people. All women.

He obviously confused Twitter for Tinder. And starting right off with asking whether I’m single, have kids, or how old I am is not the way to get my attention either.

Ugh… Either they’re looking for someone who’s ready to marry and not picky about little things like… personality! Or they’re looking for someone to just play with, and the first (or only thing) they notice are my “big boobs…”

This is why I hate dating.




High school teacher by day, relationship/romance blogger by night. Help me add author to the list. Vote for my book idea here:

2 thoughts on “Weekend Coffee Share: Why I hate dating.

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