Digital Dating Nightmares
There was a time when I was famous on Twitter. My profile was much different than it is now. Long ago, I traded my Oddysey-level escapade threads and thirst trapping profile for a more news-centered, awareness garnering, brand promotion, approach. I had to grow as a person.
But the beginning. Oh, the beginning was beautiful.
I created a Twitter in 2011, late to the game and after most of my friends, mainly to keep up with people with whom I had once been close, but likely would not see again. I’ve lived in 6 different cities in the last 7 years, so virtual extensions of live connections have been a way of life for me.
Needless to say, I’ve done some great things on social media, and created many meaningful connections, both business and personal. Even though I’m late to nearly every platform, there’s something quirky about my life that allows me to have some of the most ridiculous stories from my time spent acclimating to the app. I could probably write a dissertation. This is just the second story of who-knows-how-many escapades from my colorful past.
I got flown out by a GroupMe gal one time. GroupMe is a messaging app, like Kik or WhatsApp where you can create your own chat rooms. I’m in a bunch of group chats. Ones for Black Greek Letter Organization members, ones for black entrepreneurs, ones for natural medicine and plant-based lifestyles, and then some that are just random assortments of black folks cracking jokes and diving in DMs.
She saw me in the chat the first day she was added. She was captivated by my masterly GIF and meme usage, and the catfishery of my frequently changing avi pictures. She quickly slid into my DMs and started making small talk. I learned that she was younger than me, which is a big no-no in my book, but she seemed very enthusiastic, so I kept up conversation for the fun of it. Eventually I learned that she was more than halfway across the country in Texas, and the conversation without the possibility of any human interaction has never done it for me, so the communication waned and I went on about my life. I assume she did the same.
Months later, I decided, on a whim to travel for a short vacation. Without thinking about her, I decided on Texas as a destination because of friends and family there that I had not seen in years. I was playing around in my group chats, telling my Texas relations the plans, and I happened to scroll by our long abandoned message thread. I sent four words.
I’m coming into town.
It was almost as if she had been waiting for the message. She responded immediately and we talked about why I was coming; she said she wanted face time while I was there. I was noncommittal. She kept pressing the issue, though, so much so that I made the offhand remark.
“Sounds like you want me out there bad enough to pay my way.”
“You fly Spirit?”
Now, uh. I know people have their hangups with Spirit, but I’ve never had an issue on one of their flights. I was a low-budget #FlyOutGuy the same way I’m frugal in regular life. I don’t need too much to be happy or comfortable.
She got my info and copped my flight out there within minutes. The vacation was two weeks away. She said she’d cop the other flight on her next check.
The flight went well, Spirit haters. When I arrived in Houston, the arrangement was I would touch down and get settled, then we would link up. She just wanted to come through for the “come through, and wasn’t particularly worried about hanging out all day and night. She said she understood that I came to see my boys.
I should have known she was lying.
I touched down, got settled, and hit her up. Her pull up game was as strong as advertised. I paid my dues for the subsidized travel, and splendidly, might I add. Tapped her out through multiple rounds, brought the power, technique,stamina, and the unique, gentle touch which is a hallmark of my style.
“I can’t lie, I wasn’t expecting this.”
*Insert smirking emoji*
Now, this whole “session” was over a period of a couple, maybe two and a half hours. With breaks implemented by her for rest periods. Needless to say, I’m ready to get started with my vacation. There’s only one issue.
She won’t leave.
She started asking for blankets, trying to watch shows on Netflix, talking about her life and trying to make me talk about mine. What’s worse, she tried to cuddle! This was in no way, shape or form a part of the agreement. Now, did I feel like these were unreasonable requests? No, she paid for my travel, which is a major thing. But, did I feel like complying? Nope. Not one bit. I was able to circumnavigate most of the mush for an hour or so at which point I left her in the room to take a nap. The reprieve was glorious. I guess I should mention that all this is taking place at one of my friend’s houses. He and I sat outside in the common room and snickered quietly about how this trip was off to a bang.
When I entered the room again after a little over an hour, she was propped up on the bed, just sitting and watching the door. It was eerie, like that little doll that used to ride around on that bike in the Saw movies. Like, what are you doing just sitting in here staring?! I mistakenly figured she would be about ready to leave. It was getting dark and she had mentioned something about picking up her nieces. The operative word is mistakenly. She restarted the whole circuit of snuggling, life conversations, and attempted post-Netflix and Chill, chilling. I got up and started cleaning the room. She asked what I was doing, and I spun a tale about going to the gym and then the movies with my friend. She complained and complained. So much so that I had to pay for an Uber back to her side of town for her because “If it was up to [her], [she] wouldn’t be leaving, yet.” No matter. I’ve dealt with unruly house guests before. I ate the Uber costs and watched her storm off into the vehicle, unbothered in my own right.
The rest of the vacation was fairly uneventful. I did all the hanging out I had planned to. I hardly heard from her, but not in a “I’m giving you the space we agreed on,” kind of way, but a “I’m salty and I’m waiting for you to hit me up,” kind of way. But, you see, I can’t be baited. I lived out my vacation miraculously. The night before I left, I ended up getting my own ticket back. Luckily, the flight was undersold and the price was super low, so it was no skin off my teeth.
About two hours after I had arrived home the next day, she sent a message to our GroupMe thread.
You must not want to go home, sir.
Aha, but the vindictive play will get you nowhere with me. Ball, dodged. Spade, cut. I didn’t even respond.
We haven’t spoken since then.
Now I know, once again, there’s a bunch that could have gone differently, better even. And I really could have avoided the entire scenario, but what can I say, I’m a journalist. I live for the story.
The moral is, though, never put yourself in a situation where you can’t take care of yourself. Even if you’re a #FlyOutGuy or #FlyOutGal, never rely on anyone else for your livelihood, because nobody ever has more of a reason to care about you than Y-O-U.