Oh Simon. Simple Simon. Or maybe that should be simple me. Silly, simple me.
After all that drama, all that bullshit, me thinking he’d ghosted me and then he’d thinking I’d ghosted him and us having that whole technology drama … he went and fucking ghosted me. After all that. And this time, I’m definitely sure of it.
After the drama, I sent him that long text message and apologised for being an utter asshole. He said it was fine because it wasn’t exactly my fault – why didn’t we just pick up where we left off? It seemed like a bloody great idea to me so we carried on for a few days, happy and chatting, making plans to meet “after the weekend”.
The weekend came and I got rotten drunk. I’d messaged him up until the point where I became annihilated on Saturday night, and he’d sent me a sweet good morning message on Sunday. I didn’t get back to him until Sunday afternoon (4pm) when I was pretty sure I was dying from my hangover, and that’s where the story ends really. I haven’t heard from him since.
He was saying all the right things to me. Like when he told me that seeing my face on Tinder made him stop in his tracks. How I was never the normal sorta gal he’d go for but he couldn’t stop staring, and although he didn’t think I’d be the kind of girl he’d date, he swiped right anyway, intrigued, not being able to stop thinking about me. He said he was a little “obsessed” with me.
His words. All his words. I don’t need to make any of this bullshit up because apparently these fuckboys are good at making up their own fairytales.
It got to about that time – midnight – when we’d normally both crawl into our beds and have a chat, sometimes into the very early hours of the morning. He was online. I know he was because I saw him. I thought about sending him a message but then I’d already sent him two by that point, and in one of them I’d jokingly said it felt like I was bugging him. Those two earlier messages were ignored. Read within three minutes of them being sent, and ignored.
Monday morning came around and I still had no word from Simon, the man who was so “into me”, when we accidentally ghosted each other the first time around, he was “devastated” and it ruined his “entire weekend”. I decided to send one last message, you know, just to make sure I wasn’t making a technology-related mistake like last time.
WhatsApp message sent, received, read… profile picture disappears. I sent him one more WhatsApp message just to make sure but yep, by that point, he’d blocked me.
So then I sent him a text (which I appreciate now makes me look a little nuts):
He read it and didn’t respond.
Before the weekend, we were brilliant, back on top form, planning a date for Monday / Tuesday (although I’m assuming that’s cancelled … ha!), and generally being quite cute I thought. We had started taking things to a flirty level, and I was getting very excited to meet him. Finally. He sent me a Sunday morning-message and then ignored every other message after. Why?
Now, please excuse me, but I went a little crazy. Not outwardly, don’t worry, I didn’t send him a torrent of abuse. Instead, I went into serial-stalker mode and I found what I was looking for.
He’d posted a picture of the wife he’d been separated from for a year, 18 hours ago, and referred to her as something along the lines of a “quality woman”. There were holiday photos of the two of them from two months ago. There was a picture of her in bed four months ago. He posted it. They’ve been separated for a “whole year” though… ? Those were his EXACT words.
Simon is married. I knew it.
What a dick. You can’t be married and try to online date these days because there is ALWAYS a paper trail. Simon never gave me his last name. I didn’t know when his birthday was. I didn’t know where he lived. His phone number didn’t give anything away. I never knew anything about him. Yet I still managed to find him, his dirty little secret, the fact that he was still very clearly enjoying lazy mornings in bed with his wife. I bet if I could see his hand, he’d be rocking a wedding ring. Or at least, the hint of a tan line.
Ah, fuck him. Another one bites the dust. What the fuck is wrong with people these days? Honestly? Who does this shit?
At times like this I think I should just give up on online dating but then I’m sure in a few weeks, I’ll look back at this and laugh.
This time Simon ACTUALLY ghosted me.