Stranger Than Fiction

In an unsuspecting Tinder match, a twenty five year old gawky gamer guy approaches a twenty seven year old young professional woman. This connection, existing sparsely through the past two years, has filled me with disappointment. I wrote about these times as a reminder to myself of all of the turmoil he has put me through and that I have put myself through.

Two years ago, in the fall, he promised me one of his sweatshirts and breakfast in the morning when I stayed the night the first time. My best friend had dropped me off at his place after we went out to a bar. He drove me home in the morning. There was not breakfast or a sweatshirt.

Two years ago, in the first week in January, he told me a friend was staying with him and that he would be too busy to talk to me. He even mentioned not to text him during that time. We were friends on Snapchat at the time. He had his location on previously. When this friend arrived, he turned his location off. One way or another, I learned that it was his ex-girlfriend that was staying with him.

Two years ago, in January, unknown to me at the time, we were in the same city in Florida at the same time. I was visiting family and he was chasing this ex-girlfriend. I once knew her name, because he spoke about her so often and how torn up he was over it, but I can't ever recall the name. I only remember that she was very young (I don't believe she was even 21) with a dermal in her face. She couldn't keep a job or a living situation and he was very upset that he never got to snort coke off of her ass, as she once promised.

Two years ago, in February, he went back to her again after he had already come back to me. Not long after, early March, he came back another time. Within the same week in mid-March, he lost his job and I lost my grandmother. We seemed to be in a steady place for months.

Around his birthday, in June, he broke things off again. He says he hates his birthday and it's always a hard time for him. He will text me off and on through the next few months, unsure if he wants to hang out or not.

We hung out one time in September, after I had been drinking with my coworkers on a Sunday night. I stayed for a few hours and left very early in the morning. I did work the next day.

October of that year, he told me that he was dating someone. He said, “Don’t worry, it’s not my ex.” I replied that I was not concerned and I was happy for him. I would not let him get a reaction out of me. I deleted his phone number.

During those months, from time to time, he was a thought in the back of my mind. I wondered why I wasn't good enough for him. I am fatter than the girls he likes. More mature than the girls he likes. For certain, more successful than the girls he likes. Well, than the ones he leaves me for.

In February, just before the pandemic, I had been out drinking on the evening of my birthday. I looked up his phone number and called at two in the morning. It was not his phone number, but a relative of the same name. Thankfully, no answer.

For the next few months, I wondered about him but knew I was better off. As far as I knew, he had a girlfriend. I never looked into this girl, just hoped that one day his desire for me might overwhelm him and he'd come crawling back again. It's satisfying to me.

In the spring, I unknowingly stood behind him and his father in line at Chipotle. He kept his back to me the whole time. I suspected it was him and I was glad I had lost a little weight and didn't look like a total scumbag that day.

A few weeks after, in early summer, a text from him. "Sup?" I know that it's him, our phone numbers have the first six digits in common. I hyperventilate for a few hours. I go for a walk with my best friend. I text, "I just did such a hard double take at my phone." He says, "Oh, wow. I have the wrong number." He sends a screenshot of the same names with different spellings next to each other in his contacts. "I meant to text my friend." I don't answer. I don't believe it was a mistake and I fully expect had I just said hello he would have proceeded with the conversation.

A few weeks later, late summer, my best friend matches with him on Tinder. She knows exactly who he is and is hoping he's too stupid to know who she is. He picked up a conversation with her immediately. She had planned to confront him about me. He diverted. He wasn't diving into her plotted questions. She got frustrated and deleted him. Later, I found out he knew exactly what was going on.

A few weeks later, early fall, I was perhaps the most drunk I have been during the entire pandemic. I struck up a conversation with him about a tv show we both enjoyed. He was excited. He didn't know the newest season had just come out. I nudged at the idea of seeing him again. He says that he is currently in an exclusive swinger type relationship but, it may be possible for us to hang out again one day. You poke fun at his swinging lifestyle. Mocking him, "Wow, your life is just so interesting to me." I felt low because I'm usually not the one that grovels and reaches out to him. In the past, it was always him reaching out. I would protest at first but eventually give in. Now, the tables had turned. But, I was also happy to see he was still playful with me and, committed or not, he's interested in my request. By process of elimination, I research the swinger girl on social media. She's exactly what I suspected. She's skinny, she has little quirky tattoos, she has her nose pierced, at some points colored hair, and has a carefree attitude. She works at a lowly grocery store in the middle of nowhere. She reminds me of my much younger sister.

A few weeks later, end of October, he asked if I was still looking to hang out. His swinger girlfriend had become too busy to continue their relationship. He says, "Preferably, just come over and get to the point. I am not emotionally or mentally available." I say, "I figured that out a long time ago."

I did not give him an answer that day. I asked questions about him and his swinger girlfriend. He asked about the guy I had been seeing off and on. I mentioned him the night I drank too much. It was very much over at that point. He gave condolences. I say, "It ran its course."

The second day, in the morning, he asked if I had thought about tonight. I had not yet gotten out of bed. The messages, more brief than the day prior, became plans. He asked about my new place but I went to his place instead. Partially, for old times' sake and partially because I didn't feel fully comfortable with the idea of him in my personal space. For some reason, sleeping with him seems less invasive than inviting him into my apartment.

I had plans to hang out with friends later than night so we both knew this would be just an hour or two. Catching up was as playful as ever. The memories of each other flowed. Once we both had gotten to the understanding of where we both are in life, I got nervous. I told him that my brain isn't ready for this. He says, “Your brain doesn’t need to be involved.”

We go to the bedroom and talk for a few moments. We started off as it usually did. But then it was different. Going through the motions was slower and more thoughtful. I placed my right hand over his. He laid his forehead on the center of my back and took a deep breath. I left there that night feeling confident and content. I knew what to expect from him. Who knows when I'll hear from him again. He'll reach out when he's interested and that's alright for right now.

I had mentioned that night that I knew he is afraid of committing. He agreed. But, I'm not sure why we came to that conclusion. We both know that he will only stop himself from committing to me.

Part of me thinks that it's the big girl complex. I'm a larger woman than those he's been with. He doesn't want to settle on me because of it. But then, I also have to consider, he was overweight most of his life. In fact, he lost over 100 pounds and was self conscious about his sagging skin when I first met him. Since then, he has gained at least 50 pounds back and he's even more self conscious now than then.

He did have some emotionally damaging experiences. He is sensitive but doesn't admit it. He smokes a lot of weed. At first to help him, but now because he’s completely used to it. He knows about my work, my family, my friends, my quirks. I know about his too. It was not just sex. He just likes to think of it that way. There were times where I was the person he texted every day, and when he was drunk, wanted desperately to talk with. In fact, he only stopped texting me daily when I confronted him and said, "You don't want a relationship with me but you text me every hour, and that's not normal for a booty call." I know that for him, the thought of getting hurt is too much of a burden to bear.

You might wonder after reading the recollection of events between us why he's of any interest to me. He doesn't seem so great. I know that there are a number of reasons and to be honest with you, I think many of them involve my superstition and a sense of power that I feel. There's at least a dozen more stories and events than those I have listed above. Him and I seem to be thinking of similar things at similar times as well as in similar places at similar times. I keep telling myself it's some sort of fate that those things happen. I've had more flings than he has in the times apart, but when I remember the times with him, I'm excited again.

As of recent, he sends me pictures of his new puppy. We haven't hung out for over 5 months. He tells me he hasn't had anyone over to his apartment since he got his dog because he keeps him so busy. Sometimes I text him, sometimes he texts me. I stopped keeping score. Maybe one day I'll lose the weight and his jaw will drop. Maybe one day he might realize he was horrible to a nice girl over traumas that weren't her fault. At this point, I'd be a fool to count on it.