I have a theory about boys. Well, I have many theories about them, but here’s my latest.
They have a sixth sense, and it somehow tells them when girls are happy so they can come along and fuck their brains up all nice for them.
As I said in my post about getting stood up t’other week, I recently met someone who seems not to be a dick. It’s early days, but I’m so confident in his not-dick status I’m putting it on the internet for the world to see*. And when I say world, I mean the 200 people that actually read my blog (thanks guys). As I write this, my new favourite Latino and I have been on four dates, and every one of them has been fun and lovely. He’s sweet to me, he makes me LOL, and he’s got a face and body that make my eyes go all bulgy like a cartoon character’s.
After a couple of months of having my ass kicked by love/lust/whatever we’re calling it, it’s nice to finally be free of chasing after bad dudes. But here’s the weird thing: within about two days of me going on my first date with my new main squeeze, those bad dudes resurfaced, seemingly out of nowhere. It happened with three separate guys from my past. Allow me to fill you in…
The Hot Venezuelan
First, let’s talk about the intensely hot Venezuelan dude that tattooed me then ghosted me, but who I continue to be attracted to in a feral-animal kind of way. In the last week, he’s messaged four separate times asking what’s up.
What’s up is that I don’t want you no more, gracias.
Well, that’s a lie, I do want him. Like, proper.
He’s tempting as hell, and sadly by the time I get round to posting this I’ll probably have caved and messaged him back**. But, I’m trying to stay strong.
The Tall Frenchman
Next up, the 6, 4” Frenchman that I hung out with a couple of times when I first arrived in Medellin. He’s cute, smart, funny, and that French accent makes me weak in the knees (and other places). But, there’s one clear problem.
That problem is his wife. Yep.
After not hearing from him for a couple of months I’d kind of forgotten about him (it’s hard to keep track of the dudes that ditched me in cruel, unforgiving Medellín), but he sent me this message earlier this week:
He’s in an open marriage apparently, but I refuse to get on a bus for two hours to visit a man who has two significant flaws:
- He doesn’t message me for literally months at a time.
- He’s got a bloody wife.
I sure do know how to pick ‘em.
The Sri Lankan Baller
My third and final blast from the boy-past is a Sri Lankan hottie I went on one date with in London a couple of months before I travelled to South America. The date was decent but he was a little flashy for me: we spent over £200 on prosecco and he insisted on paying the entire bill, even though I sincerely tried to pay half (while holding back tears at the thought of spending £100 on fizzy wine).
In the weeks following the date he’d message every once in a while essentially asking to hook up that night. His last-minute booty calls were lazily hidden behind promises to take me out and spend loads of money on me, but that’s not my bag and when he realised I wasn’t for sale he sort of just vanished.
Then, after us not speaking for more than six months, he gets in touch last week like “when you back in the UK babe, I wanna take you out”. Oh hello, ballin’ stranger, where did you suddenly appear from?
Seriously guys, how do you somehow know I’m not interested in dating anyone other than my new cutie with a booty? You, dear reader, might be thinking, “well, you told us on your blog you were dating a nice dude”, but I’m not pals with any of these boys on social media and it’s highly unlikely that they’ve found my shitty little website in Google or whatever.
Do men just get a sudden feeling in the pit of their stomach that I’m no longer thirsty, followed by a strong urge to tempt me into taking a sip from their cup of love (what? Gross!)?
Next, Felipe (the Tinder guy that stood me up) will come back from the dead and ask me out for a wine.
*I was wrong, he was a bit of a dick
**I totally caved. He’s too hot for me to be logical about him.