Now that the dust has settled on the whole "I-refuse-to-go-Dutch" debacle, here's what's been happening with my digital dating life as of late.
1) I wish men would stop trying to hold my hand, especially on the first fucking date.
I've never been one for public displays of affection with boyfriends, and y'all already know I have boundary issues, so it should come as no surprise that I'm extra confused as to why strange men feel that it's appropriate to hold hands within five minutes of meeting one another.
Over the last couple of months, at least five men have grabbed my hand while walking to our destination. Not at the ass end of the date -- at the very beginning. (Because I don't know London like the back of my hand just yet, occasionally I'll ask my date to meet me at the tube station. It's not always easy to find some of the older, cooler bars and restaurants that are hidden in nooks and crannies and alleys off of the main road.)
For the record, my hand is MINE, cotdammit. I don't want it wrapped all up in yours, especially if I don't even know your last damn name.
2) I'm communicating with Mr. Wishy-Washy.
So there's this guy that I've been chatting with pretty regularly on Match.com, and on digital paper, he certainly sounds like he could be the one. We haven't exchanged numbers as of yet (and I know @ATWYSingle is gonna have something to say about this), but we're in a bit of a weird holding pattern.
He keeps casually asking me out, then we cease communication, then the proposed date day comes and there's still radio silence, then the day after he hits me with something like this: "I'm so sorry! This totally slipped my mind. When are you free next? Forgive me! I really want to meet you!"
This has happened four times already. What's his deal, yo? Why is he even bothering? Actually -- why am I even bothering?!
3) I quit a date mid-date.
I can pretty much tell whether or not I'd be open to a relationship with a guy within five minutes of meeting, but that shouldn't suggest that I won't give men whom I don't feel an instant connection with a fair shot. I usually try to stick it out for the full duration of the date, but last Saturday -- I couldn't damn do it.
I went out with Mr. Anti-Everything.
Every third word out of his mouth was about something that he hated, with every fiber of his being. He hates to "see beautiful Black women out with White men because White men are stealing all the Black women that Black men want."
Le sigh. I can't even be bothered to try and get into that one.
Then he talked about how much he hates "meeting Black women, because most Black women have kids and he doesn't want to raise anyone else's kids because he wants his own kids."
Then came the kicker: What he really hates? America. "Everything about America and everything that comes from America. Except for you J (the name I use for dating) -- because you're so damn chocolate and cute."
Oh. Well, thanks, I guess.
So to sum him up, he's anti-interracial dating, anti-single mothers, and anti-America. And he described me as chocolate. I lasted 20 minutes. I even left an almost full glass of wine on the table -- I never leave a free glass of wine behind. NEVER. That's blasphemy!
I'll just chalk this bad date up to research, because I have news... Two words: BOOK DEAL! (Big fat thanks to each and every one of you for helping make this series so popular!)
And because I like to reward myself with expensive footwear, I took Tom Haverford and Donna Meagle's advice and treated Lady IJJ to a little something extra sexy to wear when I'm traveling the world on my book tour:
Catch the kid slanging shit, sass and shade over on Twitter: @IndiaJewelJax