Day 4 is where the fun really starts to begin for my latest catfish. It starts as a slip, but yes, he’s sure he loves me. After 4 days of texting. After never having met. After blowing me off instead of warning me that we would not be able to meet on Wednesday. But he loves me.
The crazy continues because I have yet to meet him and he would suggest I would let him meet my kids.
Handing out “I love you” like bologna sandwiches at a picnic. I mean, I love meat. I’m a total carnivore. I wouldn’t go vegetarian for him. Not for a month, not for a meal, so do I actually love him? Not more than steak. Maybe more than seeded grapes. Yes, I love him more than seeded grapes because seeded grapes aren’t worth the purchase to me although I like the taste and feel of eating grapes. Just not the ones with the seeds.
The greatest question is why would I encourage this farce? I do it all the time and with all of them. Part of me hopes he’s just really lonely and hoping for a sincere connection. He’s usually cute enough that I would try to pull out a conversation over dinner. The larger part of me knows that if he’s spinning his wheels trying to get me to bite the bait he’s casting, he’s not taking advantage of someone that really would do anything for companionship. I’m looking. I’m motivated to find a relationship. I’m also happy to be alone until it’s right. I’m great company to myself. I laugh at my own jokes too.
He’s a big baller getting ready to take care of me, and it is supposed to get me comfortable because in theory he will be able and willing to meet my needs. The rapport we create is supposed to be a two way street. I’ll just end up walking through his dark alley before he sees mine.
I had my office party and ended up staying out later than usual. These posts go past midnight because my schedule pushed our conversations later than normal. Most of them have a schedule when they usually talk. Early morning, late at night and either through the morning or afternoon, but never all day every day. There’s always a schedule.
He’s used to women jumping for him. He wanted me home at a certain time and it didn’t happen. His impatience is usually a one way ticket to “No” from me, but I’m working on my blog with him, so I indulge it.
I’m not talking to guys. I’m talking to catfish. The real me is picky and hasn’t actually been on a date in months. No one asks me out, but I kinda like it that way sometimes. Usually.
He’s not trying to look jealous but he does look like he’s trying to make sure I’m alienated and motivated to do all he asks of me.
No. He won’t meet my boys. He still wants to alienate me and wants to make sure I have no other romantic interests. I have my mirror though. Maybe I should warn him that my self love is insane and he has me to compete with.
I almost feel sorry for the catfish’s past lovers. You wouldn’t believe how many of them have died tragically. Don’t worry, he has a happy ending.
I’ve met genuine widowers and none of them are this flippant. I threw up a little in my mouth when I read this. You are justified in being disgusted.
I know. I’m amazing. I would be in love with me too. You know what else I can’t always get off my mind? Stress. Fear. Indigestion because of a wheat mishap. I don’t love those things. It’s not a crush or infatuation. Even after 4 whole days.