Before I say anything else, I would like to say that I was 99.5% responsible for what went wrong with Axe Man, who was my first proper candidate from Hinge. It all started off so well… then ended in what we called “mutual ghosting.” I learned a valuable lesson, though, so I suppose it’s not an entirely wasted couple of days.
The Start
As I said, things started off really well with Axe Man. He was cute enough to catch my attention, and intelligent enough to not just start a conversation, but also hold one. We started talking at lunchtime-ish, then carried all throughout the afternoon, evening, and night. Constant messages. Almost instant blue ticks. Chit-chatting about proudest achievements and family stuff, favourite beverages, piss-taking, and lots of other stuff in between. He’s the artistic type, and most of his works focus on toxic and abusive men and the effect they have on women. Apparently.
Talking continued as soon as we woke up in the morning, and it wasn’t long before he said, “I like you. Can we go out on a date?”
It was a little too soon for me (a lot, actually,) so I jokingly told him that I’d need to wait and find out if he was an axe murder first. You know, what with him being the Axe Man and all.
“Oh, you’re a bully!” he replied.
I thought he was joking, but we’ll come back to this.
Ick #1
We quickly exchanged numbers, then continued chit-chatting on WhatsApp. I sent him a few photos: me, the cat (he asked,) my eyes (he asked,) my margarita pizza with the jokey caption ‘Wish you were here,’ etc.
He requested a fair few photos, but only sent one in return: his [fully clothed] crotch, with a remote in his hand like a dick.
Oh, okay, we’re sex flirting now.
I made a greasy fingers joke (pizza!) back that did not seem to go down well… at all. It flopped like a lead weight.
Hmmm.
That was my first ick, but perhaps ick is too strong a word. More like I realised that we didn’t have the same sense of humour. Still, I let it slide. Perhaps it was a bit too soon for me to be throwing out sex jokes, but wouldn’t it have been too soon for him, too?
Ick, though.
My Bad
I overshared too much, too soon. I knew it as soon as I’d hit reply… twice. In my defence, he asked literal questions (how did you start writing?) that I answered in a literal way (abusive marriage) – but, still, I definitely, definitely, definitely overshared. I wish I hadn’t done that now. In my defence, he’d told me all about his art by this point – abusive men and the effects they have on women, remember?
He took it on the chin, thankfully, then shared a tiny little piece of trauma right back. Anxiety. Antidepressants. A backstory that he didn’t want to talk about.
I have definitely got a traumatised type.
Chit-chatting continued. He asked if I wanted kids, and I said no. He said the same. Neither of us were bothered about marriage. We both wanted to travel. He was sober and didn’t smoke cigarettes, which I very much liked. Blah blah blah. Lots of ticked boxes. More laughs, too. Maybe we did have the same sense of humour?
Ick #2
“What about Boxing Day for our first date?” he asked, approximately one hour after his first date request. “Nothing will be open.”
Ummm, how about no?
Boxing Day felt like a really weird day for a first date, for reasons I don’t think I can explain. It’s just weird. Right? Especially with the whole “nothing will be open” add on. Was he booty calling me? After making me feel like shit about my sex joke? Surely not.
It wasn’t just that, though; I had just told him that I wanted to chat for a bit before meeting… and I needed longer than one damn hour. Did he really think something had changed in those sixty short minutes?
More jokes were made, so I *jokingly* said, “I’ll block you if you carry that on.”
“Why are you such a bully?” he replied.
It was the second time that he’d said that in less than 24 hours. Bully wasn’t exactly the impression I was going for, but sure, fine. Maybe I actually am one. Maybe it is my time to terrorise a few men as payback for all the ones that bullied me.
“I’m just playing!” I told him, adding, “I promise!”
“You’re an actual bully,” he replied.
He’d hit ick #2.
There’s no way that you’re bullying me into an earlier than I’m happy with first date, then calling me the bully. Na uh.
Ick #3
This one really did it for me, to be honest. He asked me, “Which superhero would you be?”
I am so over the superhero thing, but I played along anyway. “Batman, I think.”
“Oh,” he said. “Batman is only Batman because he’s rich and has trauma. Are you rich?”
“What superhero would you be?” I said, changing the subject, because wtf? Am I rich? Are you, buddy?
“The Hulk,” he answered.
That is and always will be my least favourite answer.
“Why?” I asked.
“I’m muscly and like beating up bad guys.”
There it was: the big ick.
I know I’m sensitive to such things with my former marriage and all, but there’s something fucking weird about:
- men beating anyone up at the age of forty-something, bad guys or not,
- boasting about it on dating apps,
- boasting about it on dating apps with someone that you’ve spoken to for less than 48 hours, and
- boasting about it to someone who has already told you that they were in an abusive relationship.
He elaborated, so I knew it wasn’t all fun and jokes. The man was deadly serious.
“You wouldn’t go Hulk on me, right?” I asked next.
I know that it’s an antagonistic question, but I ask it for a reason. I ask all of them (men) that at some point. Their response often gives me all the information I need to know.
“Are you baiting me into a trap?” he asked. “I know it’s probably to do with your brain wiring, but I’m a protector…”
See: the response gives me all the information I need to know.
Why is that question, a “trap?” What have you done, buddy? Where’s the bait? What’s wrong with my BRAIN WIRING? Why does me wanting to protect myself from someone who compares themselves to the Hulk, insult someone who also calls himself a “protector” so much?
I lost all interest at that point. Too many icks. I’m sure that Axe Man is lovely and every bit the protector that he claims to be, but he aint my protector.
After a few messages more, we decided to “mutually ghost” each other.
Thank you, next.
Next time, I’ll know not to overshare so soon. I wouldn’t want them to worry about my brain wiring or owt.
The next blog post in the dating timeline is this one: Giraffe. (Coming soon.)
Thanks so much for reading my blog today! 🖤
You can read all about my disastrous dating history, right from the beginning, right here: Table of Dating Contents.
Alternatively, why not have a little peek around here:
