They are single for a reason ladies…

If you’ve never had the joy of perusing Tinder I’ll tell you how it works. It’s a pretty simple concept; it’s a dating app that allows you swipe left to say no, right to say yes, and up to “Super Like.” If you swipe left you never have to see their creepy face again. If you swipe right to someone who also swipes right to you…it’s a match made in Tinder heaven! If you swipe up, or click on the pretty little blue star, you can Super Like a person. The Super Like essentially bumps your spot in the queue so you can be sure that this stunning specimen sees you quickly. (I’ll share my Super Like story with you a little later in the blog, and you can fall off your chair laughing at my fucking ridiculousness!) I almost always accidentally swipe up and Super Like the weirdest people. That’s not what this post is about though. This post is about Bachelor #1. It’s worth noting, that Bachelor #1 and #2 overlapped each other. You’ll learn why this is a good thing later.

Bachelor #1 actually earned himself a spot in my journal. Yes, a pen and paper journal. The kind you kept when you were 9 and spilling your heart out about how Billy winked at you in gym class. To be fair, I started this thing at the request of my therapist. She said it would help me remove the crap from my brain so I could sleep more than 30 minutes at night. I’m wishing I could call that therapist up right about now, but I was only given 5 free sessions and I stupidly wasted them all on X, so here I am talking to all of you.


#1 was actually one of the first few guys I swiped right to like. There were about 3 others that I matched with and messaged me, but they all sucked horribly. One of the guys I swiped right to was only because his picture was of him and his daughter meeting Cinderella  #goals #disneylove #iswipedrightforcindy. Anyways, #1 was different than the rest (gosh I say this a lot) so I was smitten. He was a 27-year-old, dark haired, tattoo-covered guy, with a sports car, who was adorably kissing his dog in one of his pictures. You guessed it…the bad boy! Clearly a decade under a rock taught me nothing. However, he was also a successful business man…best of both worlds?! Totes.

He wanted to meet up for a lunch date, which fit perfectly into my drop off/pick up the girls schedule. The next day I added him to my Snapchat (my friends also forced me into getting this), which I thought was safer than giving my number to a possible ex-con. You see I have this foolproof process: If I like you enough to message you outside of Tinder, I will add you to Snapchat. If I decide I still like you after receiving your unsolicited free porn, then I will add you to my Instagram and/or give you my number. (The amount of dick pics I’ve seen in the past two months is mind boggling.) Last but not least, if the stars have aligned and you are my one true love, I will add you to my Facebook – because you know we put all of the really good stuff on Facebook, right? If a man still wants to date me after seeing all the dumb shit I post and my super cool mom hair cut from several years back, then he’s probably a keeper. Anyway, within a day #1 had wooed me enough to give him my number…tattoos and dog remember? He suggested we meet for breakfast instead though so that we would have even more time to hang out before I had to pick up the tiny one, and of course I thought that was just the sweetest thing! We hung out from 9:30am until 1pm and my friend referred to this as the longest sober first date in history. What can I say…I have morals?

I had gone shopping the day before to get a suitable outfit for a breakfast date. Clearly the slutty dress was not an option, so I wore skinny jeans with black boots and a flirty black top (although in hindsight maybe I should have worn the dress). My best friend told me that I wanted to be late for the first date. I didn’t want to get there first and seem too eager, but I also didn’t want to get there at the same time and have it be super awkward. I paced around the kitchen trying to figure out how I got to this point in my life and then it was finally time to leave.

Of course he ended up running late too, so wouldn’t you know it we showed up awkwardly at the same time. This is already going well. I don’t think I’ve been more fucking nervous in my life than in this moment right here. I was shaking so hard you’d think I was going through withdrawals. I took thirteen deep breaths and got out of the car. He looked just like his picture, crisis averted there, and he gave me a hug to greet me. We went inside the restaurant, and like the obvious gentleman he was, he held the door open for me. I didn’t eat at breakfast y’all…I was that fucking nervous that all I ordered was a coffee, and I didn’t even take one drink. This went over so well with my friends; I still haven’t lived this one down. After I watched him eat his breakfast, and let him do 99.7% of the talking, we left the restaurant to go check out a donut place I had never been to before. Now you’re speaking my language.

Now, before I left the house, my mom gave me specific instructions: DO NOT RIDE IN HIS CAR, ALWAYS DRIVE YOURSELF. Naturally, like the award winning daughter that I am, I got in his car to ride to the donut shop. It became clear in the next few minutes just how much this man loved his car, and how pretty sure I was that I was going to die. We spent an hour and a half sitting outside of the donut shop talking about everything under the sun, and I was thinking, “How did I get so lucky for my first ever date to go so well?” We drove back to the restaurant, and because I still had 30 minutes to spare, we sat in his car and talked some more. It wasn’t up until it was almost time for me to leave that he kissed me, and he kissed me a lot. I was kind of on cloud 9 at this point, and I couldn’t wait to see him again.

Date two wasn’t really much to write home about, and it wasn’t really a date either. We both wanted to see each other again, so he drove up to my work, and we sat in the car for the 30 minutes in between me getting off of work and having to pick up the little one. It was 30 minutes of feeling like a teenager, kissing in an empty parking lot. Except the parking lot wasn’t empty, and I worked there, so I could only hope that someone would see me and give me a thumbs up.

Date three was different. You really learn a lot about a person on date three. It was another breakfast date, but this time he was insistent on me wearing a dress. No problem, I had just bought this super cute dress that literally screamed brunch dress, so I was excited to get to wear it! The morning of the date came and it was 40 degrees outside. I sent him a text asking him if he was still so sure he wanted me to wear this dress, and he was pretty damn adamant about it. He told me he’d keep me warm and even turn on the heated seats. You know that little voice in your head that is always right…the voice that screams at you to listen to your gut? Yeah, well I ignored her, and this is my “me too” story.


Breakfast went well, I actually ate this time, and we had some pretty good conversation. Although, he was really underdressed for wanting me to wear a dress, and I thought that was slightly unfair. The only thing worth mentioning about our conversation is that he fully admitted to having manipulated an entire relationship. I opened up a little to him about being manipulated myself, and he said he understood, saying he was never able to turn off the “sales mentality” and pretty much convinced this girl to do whatever he wanted.

After breakfast we went to the park to walk around, super romantic I know. (You’re probably wondering why I’m still on this date.) We even sat by the water and talked. This guy was good. Once we were finished with our romantic stroll through the woods, we got in his car to leave. This is why I wish I would have just worn the dress on date one. I could have gotten this over with right away and not dragged it out. I don’t really want to go into too much detail here, because this is one of the hardest things I’ve ever written, but it needs to be told. The park was empty, which gave him the perfect opportunity to forcefully shove his hand up my dress. I didn’t want this to happen. However, in true victim fashion, I feel partly responsible for this. I feel in some way I led him on, this is Tinder after all, or that maybe he thought I had consented to this. I was scared and just wanted to go home. He wanted to go to another park but thankfully I convinced him to take me home.

Later that day, I knew I had to say something to him. This would have been the perfect ghosting situation; however, this man knew where I lived. I sent him a text that basically said that he made me extremely uncomfortable today and I didn’t appreciate what happened. I told him that the fact that he admitted to manipulating a relationship was not at all okay and that I didn’t want to see him again. He told me that he was sorry (of course) and that he would make sure things would be different moving forward. I told him I couldn’t move forward and blocked his number. Sometimes, you learn the hard way why someone is single.

If #1 and #2 didn’t overlap each other I can honestly tell you that this would have been it for me. I would have said fuck this noise and became a nun. However, Bachelor #2 was completely opposite of #1 and I’m thankful for him in more ways than one.

To be continued with Bachelor #2…



4 thoughts on “They are single for a reason ladies…

    1. After reading this, I truly had to take a moment. To breathe. To decompress. To recompose. I sat there at my desk, heat crawling beneath my skin, heart hammering against my ribs, the tiny hairs on my arms not only standing up, but thrusting their furry fists angrily in the air, and I considered this guy, this #1. The liberties his sweaty, meat paws took with you…it’s disgusting, and I’m sorry this happened, continues to happen to women.

      Thank you for your story.


      1. Thank you. It was pretty difficult to write. My heart kind of pounded out of my chest, and I even considered making up a fake ending. However, I promised to be super real here, so making up an ending would go against what I’ve set out to do with this blog. Thank you for reading!


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