Book 1: Days Before the End of the World (Kevin the Kidder)
When I first started dating after my marriage ended, I was 99% morally opposed to online dating for three reasons:
My ex-husband joined online dating sites the moment he finally believed I was leaving and he spent over $700 of our shared money that night to do so. He proceeded to keep me abreast of his online dating escapades over the next three months as we figured out our separate lives.
I’m a hopeless romantic. I love a good “how-we-met” story. And meeting online sounded decidedly unromantic.
You have to talk to strangers.
Eventually, though, I admitted to the stark necessity of trying online dating during a dry spell. Since then, I’ve picked it up and then thrown my phone across the room in disgust innumerable times. Hope is a delusional, demanding bitch.
The first time I created an online dating profile, I didn’t interact with a single soul. I watched messages from men come in and everything in me shriveled away from the entire proposition. The idea that real live people were on the other end of those pictures incited pure terror. I quickly turned off my profile and deleted the app.
I went back on the app about a year later. This time, I actually answered a message or two. I couldn’t bring myself to ‘like’ anyone first yet, but I felt (almost) capable of responding to someone who showed interest first. It didn’t seem quite so bad this time around, and it was a nice little ego boost to have someone ‘liking’ me.
So, if men are like books (see my last post), then this is the first book I pulled off the online dating shelf:
It was March 5, 2020–-right before the world shut down for COVID. Ignorant of what was to come, it was more notable to me at the time that it was two days before my 36th birthday. The guy I was to meet, “Kevin,” was the first guy I’d made a date with on an app.
My impressions from his profile were mixed. He had a number of similar interests to me. He was good-looking. I liked that he’d filled out his profile thoroughly, although I was concerned he might have been a little too verbose. And something in the way he worded his answers made me uncomfortable, although I couldn’t put my finger on what. Having never met anyone from online in person, though, I had no sense of how much a person might or might not line up with my impressions of them. So I decided to meet Kevin.
We went to get coffee in between a work event I had and the time I needed to pick my son up from school. The hard deadline of school pickup would be an easy out, I figured, if the date went badly.
Work event at a local Athleta store right before the date. I changed in the mall bathroom before driving to the coffee shop.
I walked into the coffee shop, trying to imagine that instead of a sleep-deprived single mom, I was Meg Ryan in You’ve Got Mail, hoping to find her mysterious chat room pal carrying a rose and Pride and Prejudice. Kevin was waiting (no rose, but that was not our arrangement, so that was understandable). The smell of his leather jacket wafted over me as he gave me a hello hug. He paid for my coffee, and while I didn’t expect him to, it felt nice to have a man offer. It had been three months since the man I’d been sort-of-seeing before had moved to California. I had cried more than I wanted to about that one.
We sat down in slightly worn armchairs and began the dance of getting to know a stranger. The conversation was good, and we had even more in common than I’d realized. He was animated and charming, and listened to what I had to say. He was a little more touchy-feely (his words, not mine) than was normal for a first date with someone you just met, but I was still brand new to dating and also lonely, so I didn’t mind when he rubbed my kneecap or touched my arm for emphasis in something he was saying.
It came time to leave too soon.
As we walked out, he slapped my ass.
I should have ended things right there. I should have said, “What the hell?!” But I was still recovering from abuse and the compulsion to go with the flow and make other people comfortable, so I didn’t say anything.
When we got to our cars, he asked for my actual number instead of just connecting on the app. I said yes. When he opened his phone, he had notes up about me—“to remind himself before our date.” I got the impression it was because he was talking to so many women, he couldn’t keep them straight in his head. He kissed me goodbye. Things were happening too fast for me to process. I had to rush to pick my son up from school.
On the drive to school, my gut churned uncomfortably with warnings.
An unexpected legal notice arrived from my soon-to-be-ex-husband that afternoon, over something that I had thought we’d come to an agreement over. I silently raged, cried, and hid it all from my son as I set up my equipment to cover another trainer’s workouts that evening in order to pick up some extra cash. I was in the kitchen later, making dinner when Kevin texted me. Thanks to my ex, my guard was way up, walls in full lockdown mode, shields fully engaged Star-Trek style.
He texted me pictures of his dog, and although his wording seemed a little off (“Molly wanted to say hi!”), I told Kevin how cute she was. Then he added a PS: “Do you sleep in PJs or something more scandalous? I made the ‘changeover’ a while ago and it has led to some wild dreams!”
I stared at the gray text bubble in disbelief. We’d exchanged only a handful of texts ever, and had just met that day. Finally, I set the phone down without responding and went back to wearily making dinner. Through dinner and putting my son to bed, I pondered what to say.
Once my son was asleep, I had a good cry as I dealt with what I could for the legal issue. Then I sank down onto the floor in the corner of the kitchen, my back to the corner rotating cabinet, and pulled my texts back up. I’d found what I thought was the perfect answer. Not wanting to be rude but also having no intention of answering his question, I said, “A lady doesn’t reveal all her secrets at once! ;)” I was pleased with my cleverness at clarifying what I was comfortable with while reducing the chances of hurting his feelings (something I was much more concerned with back then).
He quickly responded, “Hey, I want to see, I want to see! Send me a picture! Who wants a lady anyway, baby?”
Baby? I just sat there, feeling my gut twist as it screamed warnings at me that I didn’t really need because my brain was finally right there with it. This man did not want to know me as a person, and he did NOT respect boundaries, which was an unforgivable infraction after the life I’d lived up until that point.
But the texts kept rolling in. “I will keep the picture by my bed...it will be like we are cuddling/sleeping together!”
WHAT THE..
I already knew this was a definite NO for me, but he kept digging a hole for himself. “Here’s one for your bedside! A patriotic, just voted selfie!” And he sent me one of the pictures from his dating profile. (After having spoken to many women about unsolicited pictures, I now know in this regard at least, I was fortunate, since it was a fully-dressed selfie).
The texts kept rolling in: “Of course, yours should be much more seductive/scandalous. I just know voting/political activism really turns you on!” This was definitely not something we’d talked about, and smacked of him having actually gotten me confused with one of the other women he was talking to.
I sat for another half an hour trying to frame a text to tell him this was over. I texted a friend or two for help on how to say I was running away as fast as possible from him...but nicely. I finally came up with, “I’m sorry; this is too much way too fast for me. Also, I think you’re getting me confused with someone else. You’re very nice and I hope you find what you’re looking for, but this isn’t going to go any further for me.” (I would definitely not say the part about being very nice now). Since then, I have learned that how a man responds to you ending something often reaffirms your decision to end it. Also, I’ve learned that many men go crazy when you end things, even if they’ve just begun.
His response was to be flabbergasted: “What do you mean? I’m confused. What are you talking about? Did I miss something?” Yes, apparently, dude. “I was just being playful. Sorry if I upset you somehow.” Phew, I’ve had the ‘I was just joking’ line thrown at me my entire life. That one doesn’t fly anymore.
Before I could respond, he kept going: “I guess I wasn’t funny. I should have known things get misunderstood/misconstrued over text.” As if it were a simple problem of tone not being conveyed properly in text.
I was debating whether to respond at all or what to say when he went to wounded puppy mode, which was supposed to incite me to give him another chance because I felt bad for him: “If you don’t want to see me again bc my sense of humor upsets you, I completely understand. I thought we were compatible and we laughed today…but I could have misinterpreted things. I do wish you nothing but the best”
I felt a pang of sympathy and guilt. But I’d had that kind of manipulation used on me way too many times too, and if he was truly too oblivious to understand why what he said was inappropriate, I knew I did not need him in my life.
Still, I felt bad as I typed, “It was fun talking to you, but it’s just not going to work out. All the best to you as well!” I gritted my teeth and pressed SEND, with a hearty dose of please stop texting me! sent mentally along the cell phone waves and a resolution to block him if he didn’t stop.
His response was, “OK. Again, I apologize if something I said upset you. I was trying to be endearing. I do wish you nothing but the best. I really did enjoy meeting you and was hoping to get to know you better. Best of luck.”
I rolled my eyes and didn’t respond again.
In the following days, I trained friends and clients at workouts, took my son to the park and a kids museum, celebrated my birthday over and over again with multiple groups of friends, danced at a party full of salsa dancers (I’m terrible at dancing but enjoyed every second of it), sprinted through downtown Asheville to complete a scavenger hunt on a work retreat, got my divorce finalized, and watched the world shut down with COVID. Four days after the divorce, my ex-husband got remarried. I also hung out with a guy I would end up dating briefly and texted with a guy I would end up blocking years later (both of whom I’d met in person, not online). I didn’t look back at Kevin (I didn’t have time) except as a cautionary tale for myself to trust my gut and as a tale to tell to this day of my worst first date. I laugh in bewilderment as I tell it, and get a little too much enjoyment out of thinking about the earful Kevin would get if he tried that shit now. But really, it’s not all that funny. Guys get away with this crap all the time.