Kiki looks into escape artists

At 24, Tinder wasn’t around yet, but MySpace served its purpose by introducing us to people we might never have met otherwise—acting as a crude dating app before dating apps were even a thing.

John “slid into my DMs” (as we’d say now) and started messaging me. He was incredibly attractive and had two different colored eyes. He also had sparrow tattoos, which in hindsight was a sure sign things were going to go south, but I was young thought they were the coolest. After exchanging several messages, we realized we lived in the same city. Since MySpace didn’t have location services back then, finding someone in the same area code was never a guarantee.

We decided to meet in person at a local bar. Because I didn’t have a cell phone yet, location sharing with friends wasn’t an option; just taking my life into my own hands and hoping for the best.

When I arrived, John was just as good-looking as his photos, but he was a talker. For two and a half hours straight, he droned on and on. I honestly couldn’t tell you what he talked about because it was years ago and I’m certain I dissociated several times while he spoke. Occasionally, he’d realize he was dominating the conversation and try to ask me a question, but the moment I started to answer, it reminded him of something else about himself; so he’d interrupt and go right back to talking.

By hour three, I was done. I excused myself to the restroom. I was too young to know it was okay to just leave a date someone a date plus we were sitting too close to the exit for me to sneak past him unnoticed.

I had only one option: I literally climbed out of the bathroom window. As I’m telling this story, I realize I must have spent a significant portion of my 20s climbing out of windows into back alleys.**

It was a tight squeeze, but it was still better than the alternative of walking back to that table.

** shout out to the alleged drug dealer who taught me to jump out windows though

Kiki looks into casual

When I like someone, everyone else seems boring. Trying to date and be casual with TeamThirtyThree (yes, he’s back in the picture) is proving much harder than expected. It’s not because I’m in love with him—I don’t think—or because it’s that serious. But in comparison, everyone else I try to talk to just comes up short.

It’s not their fault. I’m sure that if I had met them outside the context of TeamThirtyThree, they would have been perfectly fine. But with him in the viewfinder, everyone else just seems to lack texture.

I don’t like their voice. Their stories seem lame. And I have yet to meet someone as funny as him. I just can’t be bothered.

My logical side knows that this isn’t actually true—not everyone is boring or has a stupid voice—but right now, as I try to balance casual dating (something I’m clearly not very good at), TeamThirtyThree’s qualities seem to outweigh everyone else’s.

And more importantly, I don’t feel like being whimsical with other people.

Maybe that’s just what happens when I open the door, even just a little, and let someone in. It crowds the doorway for anyone else.

TeamThirtyThree has raised the bar without even trying. And now everyone else is unfairly measured against a standard I won’t let them reach.

Kiki looks into dating a …

These ridiculous stories are not new. My love life has always been messy and full of absurd situations, so I’ll be sprinkling them throughout this absolute stream-of-consciousness of a blog. Mostly as evidence that I have been, historically speaking, clueless.

One sunny afternoon when I was 23, I stood in my living room in complete disbelief as my then-boyfriend and his friend casually lit up a crack pipe right there on my coffee table like they were pouring out Mountain Dew to drink.

You and I are thinking the same thing: how the hell did I end up here? How am I dating a crack addict?

Who, looking back now with the gift of 20/20 hindsight, may have also been a drug dealer. But to understand how I got there, we have to rewind a few months.

I met Ben the way most people met in the early 2000s: out in the wild. Probably at a club. Which, in hindsight, may have been my first clue, but at the time that was just how dating worked. Most of the people I had gone out with were also from a club meet, and none of them had turned out to be drug dealers. That I knew of.

So we started dating. Nice dinners. Sunday drives. Normal couple things. At 23, this was one of my first longer-term relationships, so I didn’t really have a strong reference for what people were supposed to do when they spent time together. As far as I could tell, everything seemed perfectly normal.

At that time, I also didn’t think much of the late-night runs to the 7-Eleven near his house. We’d grab Gatorades and then sit in the car talking. It felt intimate, like our little nighttime ritual. I also didn’t think it was strange that he always backed into the parking space. Always.

I’d sit in the car while he ran inside, and somehow he would see ‘friends’ every single time we were there. He’d chat with them for a bit, then as those ‘friends’ left, more friends would appear. It was like a rotating cast of acquaintances.

Sometimes our conversations would get interrupted because he spotted someone he knew and had to jump out to say hello. I just assumed he was way more social than I was. Reader I can not emphasize this enough I was oblivious even as you are adding up the pieces faster than I did.

But as the sun streamed into my living room that afternoon months later, and the clear glass pipe filled with smoke, those pieces suddenly started cycling in my brain.

The late-night runs, the endless parade of ‘friends.’ Oh.Oh no. I may have inadvertently been going on runs with Ben and let’s politely call those ‘friends’ the clientele

It also explained the one time we had to sneak out a window at a party. To this day I’m not entirely sure why that didn’t set off alarm bells in my head. Naivety, probably. Or blind trust. Maybe a little of both.

And the parking thing? Not just a quirky habit. It’s faster to get away if you need to.

Kiki looks into comebacks

The swiftness with which men can almost sense when one may be trying someone new needs to be studied. Is there some kind of bat signal that alerts them the moment one may be emotionally detaching? Because how, how? In the middle of attempting midnight moving on with someone else did TeamThirtyThree know to text me to see if I was free.

Many a weekend and weekday have passed where he could have reached out but he remained silent. Instead he chose the exact moment before I hit the send button on a text to another person to come tapa tap tapping through my phone.

And he is not alone in this knowledge or timing for that matter. Recently my ex, whom I have not heard from in months, decided he too would like to reach out to see if I’m still stupid. I can not say that I’m not. It’s strange how easy it would have been to fall into old habits, but TeamThirtyThree rewired my brain and I cannot accept someone who is not openly excited about me any longer. When I saw my ex’s name on my phone I was more annoyed than elated or flattered- that would have never happened had it been a few months earlier. And even though I picked up, my heart was no longer in it. The heart flutters, the excitement, the nerves they were all gone replaced instead with just this strange indifference. In the halting conversation where we tried to find things to say to each other I realized I was over him like really over him.

Now on the other side of this break up with my ex I know I am angry at myself in so many ways – for what I put up with what I allowed, but as I am wrangling with those feelings I am also at odds with how I feel about TeamThirtyThree who was a safe place with an end date. Was his late night comeback just another version of the half in half out he taught me not to accept. Another disappointment in the making? Maybe because as Brandy once said “almost doesn’t count.”

Kiki looks into first impressions

You never get a second chance to make a first impression or however the saying goes; but, dating apps and the dates that follow really are a series of first impressions. The people texting may end up being duds in person, and duds in texting may end up being the one, because on dating apps there is the online impression and the in person one, both of which are really just first impressions of the same person.

I have had a series of unfortunate events in the first impression department with as many first dates as I have been on. Below is just a smattering of that.

First up was the man who, when I walked in, had such a blue backlight that I did not recognize him, and he did not stand up or approach me. So we sat staring, me confused about whether that was my date and him seemingly nonchalant. When I called to see if that was him, he did not pick up the phone, so we stared for a good seven minutes before I walked up to him and asked, “Do we know each other?” to which he replied, “Not really.” Anyway, that actually was my date.

Then there was the man who was a great texter, so funny. He seemed very worldly and well traveled and had such great stories. Our first date would have gone better had he not had a curfew earlier than my four year old niece. It turns out he was on probation. And all those stories: books and movies he had read or seen.

The date that never showed up but texted later to see how I was. Now, did I ask him if he fist fought his mom based on some inclination I had? Yes. But if he was so offended, maybe he should have said something so I did not drive forty four minutes on a Sunday for a date that he knew he was not going to come to.

I have had a total of three dates who lied miserably about their height, all hovering around 5’8″ or 5’9″ on the profile and 5’2″ or 5’3″ in real life. One man believed his own lie so much so that when I called him out he insisted he really was 5’9″. He said this all while looking almost directly in my eyes. For reference, I am 5 feet.

There was of course the man who used pictures from his glory days and then showed up not at all in his glory days.

One man spoke incessantly about his ex. I finally asked if, were she to call, would he leave this date immediately. He did not say no to this question.

There was the man who took me to a baseball game and kept explaining the game to me while emphasizing that the pitcher was the position he had played. For some reason it bothered him when I asked if the pitcher we were watching was better than him since he was on the field while we were in the stands.

Numerous dates whether in person or on line have felt the need to discuss their sexual proclivities or make the most offensive references out the gate, some using emojis as if that would somehow make it less vile; but there is just something about having to solve a Pictionary style sentence of sexual innuendo that just makes it worse.

And of course the date who made reservations, texted me the reservations, but at the last minute decided to cancel and told me word for word, “Do not bother going to the restaurant I will not be there and I cancelled the reservation I made.” I am not one to leave things alone or be told what to do, so I showed up anyway. He had taken someone else.

Although none of these men were ‘the one’ they definitely were someone.

Kiki looks into dating… that’s it just trying to date

Dating as a broken person is daunting. Not only are the dates often ridiculous, but I have less patience than I used to. I’m tired in a way that doesn’t show on dating profiles, and that exhaustion makes everything feel like tiny paper cuts on my soul: painful for such innocuous marks.

Recently, I went on a date with a man who turned out to have very, very different views from mine, though none of that came out until we were already face to face.

Don’s profile wasn’t sketchy. There were no obvious red flags or clues suggesting he’d turn out to be an absolute a-hole. Did he have of a “bro” vibe, sure; but, was he also from the East Coast, yes- which is why this didn’t quite line up. When we messaged on the app, things flowed easily enough that we exchanged numbers quickly and texted as if we had been good friends for a while and still nothing alarming came up.

There was one small thing we didn’t agree on, musical artists, but it seemed harmless at the time. Just one of those hmmmm differences I file away and move on from. I didn’t know then that it would end up meaning more.

The day of the date, we met for ice cream and decided to walk around the cute downtown area nearby. It should’ve been easy. Casual. Like I said above two old friends catching up seeing if there might be more. Instead, he decided this was the perfect moment to unload all of his strange relationship predilections. I told him it was too early for that kind of conversation, but he kept pushing. Each comment edged a little closer to subjects I’d asked to be avoided, until I finally had to change the conversation altogether.

At the time, I wondered if I was just annoyed at being out with someone new, someone who wasn’t my ex. This was one of my first dates since the “breakup,” for lack of a better word. Was this actually weird behavior, or , was I just projecting my sadness? It was hard to tell.

But as he kept talking and then mocking me I realized I wasn’t wrong at all. It was in fact intentional, inappropriate border line foul behavior. He was openly supportive of current policies supporting everything I abhor and he wouldn’t let it go. He just kept pushing. At one point we tipped into the absolute abhorrent and very much engaged in an actual shouting match about language, current events, and yes musical artists.

I think my anger and the urge to absolutely demolish a man with all the rage I’d bottled up during my relationship kept me rooted there, shouting back. The fact that we didn’t physically tussle was honestly surprising. But the moment I realized I was on the verge of a fist fight with a grown man, I snapped back to reality: I have a pace maker now and can’t be swinging but there was a time.

I shoved my chair back and stormed off. It would be another month before I considered going on a date.

Kiki looks into intermittent fasting

I intermittent fasted on a date once (not on purpose or anything), but because my date had “made it clear,” apparently, that we were only having drinks.

I matched with Hugh, and we exchanged sporadic messages in the app. I didn’t think it would lead anywhere and was preparing to move on. However, almost at the exact moment I was getting ready to delete the match, as though he had somehow caught wind of this ship-jumping, he asked me out and even planned the day and time. He also did a great job checking in leading up to the date to make sure we were still on. This may seem like an innocuous detail, but anyone dating now will tell you: if they don’t check in, at least day of, that date is not happening. That small gesture buoyed my hopes things would go well.

I arrived before him at a bustling restaurant, where a crowd hovered near the host stand waiting to be seated. I slipped into the bar section and noticed a couple gathering their things. I slid in after them, but the bartender shut it down immediately: that section was closing, he said. Then, as if on cue, another couple offered up their seats and with a menu still on the table! I scanned through the hefty pages until Hugh finally arrived. The restaurant was still churning, so the plates from the previous diners remained untouched. After deciding on my meal, I handed the menu to my date thinking we would at least get a snack. It was in that moment that he looked me straight in the eyes and said, very distinctly, “I thought I made it clear we were only meeting for drinks.”

That was in that instant I decided I would be leaving as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, the Fates had other plans for me. When the server eventually came by to clear the plates, he offered us a bread basket. My date again declined, though he did order himself a drink. I stuck with water, already plotting my escape.

Because of the rush of customers, our drinks took forever to arrive. So there I sat, listening to a man’s life story with not even a crumb of bread to distract me from what had become my loud, growling stomach.

When the drinks finally appeared, Hugh sipped slowly and kept talking. I committed fully to what had now clearly become a water fast. At some point he paused, but I barely noticed. I was too busy watching plates pass by salivating at other people’s meals. When he finally asked me a few questions, I answered halfheartedly, my attention completely hijacked by the cakes circling through the room.

Once the drinks were gone, I ended the date, not because of anything he said, but because I was starting to worry I’d lose consciousness trying to make it to my car. Drive through after a bust of a date just hits different.

Kiki looks into dating internationally- locally

Although I have been bamboozled a few times by my own people I keep trying to date them, similar to how Edmund knows deep down the queen is bad but just convinces himself she may not be so keeps going back to find her. I am just going to take a minute and revisit going out with my own people which happened not too far in the past.

I had a very interesting date with a man who claimed to also be Greek. Nick was not very communicative by text when we matched and I did call him out on it- nothing changed, so I guess he had the Greek stubbornness down pat. Regardless, we set up a date locally, and we haltingly continued to talk about our common interest- being Greek.

The day of the date I showed up to the restaurant after he did- I was not late, but he had actually gotten there a little early and had the waitress seat him- very unGreek of him. When I asked him where he was sitting instead of telling me where he instructed me to ask the waitress to take me back to him like he was a king of some kind. He did not even offer to come out and meet me at the front of the restaurant. I let the hostess know my party was seated and proceeded to wander the establishment looking for a person I was supposed to recognize from some vague pictures. I knew it was gonna be bad.

When I finally did locate him he stood up and hugged me. It was a very awkward side hug then he sat himself right down, looked me square in the my eyes and with a straight face said, “You are so lucky to be here with me.” That sounded very Greek, but that’s where the commonality ended and it was downhill from there. I could not keep my mouth shut so responded with: “Why would you have that thought and then say it out loud?” He made a wide sweep with his arms seemingly pointing out the restaurant but remained silent expecting me to know what he meant. I just continued to stare at him at which time he filled the silence by telling me he “knew the manager and his friend was part owner” As a note a.) we were not in LA for this to happen and b.) that’s not a personality trait for me to value.

This exchange was quickly interrupted when the waitress brought us each a glass of champagne- he had “taken the liberty of ordering me a drink” but had never asked if I even drank – I don’t. He was upset to find this out. Before he could say anything else, we were brought some kind of amuse bouche. When I asked what it was or what he ordered, instead of telling me he really doubled down on me being lucky to be there with him and replied that: “it was specially made for us.” “From the kitchen,” he continued. I expressed concern as to where our other food orders would be made from but he didn’t get my joke.

Conversation from there on was fairly stilted. We did not see eye to eye on any subject, and as it turned out, he had just broken up with somebody a few days previous. When I said that it was surprising he was dating so soon after he’d broken up with somebody, he did not see why it was “my business as to his dating timeline. ” Then when I was asking him seemingly normal first date questions, i.e. what brought him to California from his home state he stated that-”it was a traumatic event” and I “shouldn’t be asking those types of questions.” To which I spit out, “please learn to lie because that’s a normal question to ask on a date.” It was a very quiet dinner after that.

I guess dating Greek or part Greeks is not in the cards for me. As Edmund and I learned, one should always trust their instincts even in the face of food and drinks.

Kiki looks into armchair misogyny

In the Lion and the Witch, and the Wardrobe the white witch was angry because she always felt that she was the rightful ruler of Narnia, but had to fight to earn her place. When anyone questioned her power or authority they met her wrath and were turned to stone. One of her greatest fears: the daughters of Eve taking her power away. With the rise of the podcast and people like Andrew Tate and Joe Rogan men are being instilled with a similar fear: the daughters of Eve taking “control,” stealing their money, etc etc. This fear has made men start turning women into stone figuratively and added even more mines to the already desolate landscape of dating. I am pretty good at vetting out these types even as I swipe- their profiles give off douche vibes and say things like looking for a feminine woman, no feminists, age 45 and not looking for anything serious, there is a picture of them holding a fish, or other such markers, however, every now and then one gets by because they can hide it like the witch hid her true nature from Edmund- but not for long.

A while ago I went on a date with a man we will call Adam, who at first glance seemed put together: he had a good job, his own place, no fish photos in his profile, and in our quick phone conversation to set up the date he was polite and articulate. I was hopeful…but that quickly disappeared when he called me three times prior to me showing up for the date (in the span of an hour.) I knew it was going to go down hill but I was hungry and I hoped it would make a good story. Adam did not disappoint.

When we met up the first thing I noticed was his sudden need to dominate the conversation and his lack of awareness that someone else was mid sentence before he came storming in with his thoughts. On the phone we had a back and forth and there was an equal exchange; this was not the case in person. I could be in the middle of a thought and he would just start in without letting me finish because he ‘knew better’ (his words not mine.) If I asked a question because I didn’t hear or Adam’s point was nonsensical so I disagreed he just spoke louder and slower AT me. It’s like he had faked a conversation long enough to sound non threatening; but, that quickly came to a head when he realized I had opinions and was quicker with the wit and let’s be honest, the facts than him. He did not understand sarcasm but insisted he was very sarcastic especially when it came to certain topics. How that worked I was about to find out.

Turns out his “sarcasm” was rooted in women’s ‘need’ to have equality he stated. A topic, he said, deserved only sarcasm. I asked what that meant because I felt we were not working with the same definition of sarcasm and that seemed to send him over the edge. He began in earnest to rant on and on about how women were responsible for men’s emotions, were to stay calm in all situations even if men were acting foolish, and the demise of values was because women had become somehow blood thirsty (money hungry) and were trying to take men’s power away and control them. He even went as far as saying women control men’s reproductive rights. You should also know he believed this to be an American problem because in other cultures women knew ‘their role.’ I think he wanted to say “their place” but stopped just short of that. To be clear none of what he said was done so ironically he meant every word. I wondered, as he was spewing his foolishness, how this person with so much vitriol against women was on a dating app looking to court women – clearly it wasn’t women he was trying to be with.

When questioned about actual laws that existed protecting men rather than women he was unaware of them- his words were, “I don’t know anything about that.” When questioned about men’s behavior teaching women how to act or men creating the system and now women were using it for their advancement his brain almost locked up with this new thought and could go no further. He quickly ended the date. At least the white witch attempted to take on the daughter’s of Eve- Adam wasn’t even going to try.

Kiki looks into dating internationally

Narnia is, in some ways, a foreign land. It’s like we recognize the landscape and the creatures before us in the story but something is always askew. I know that is a faun but why is it talking and walking only on its hind legs? Dating is the same. I recognize the setting and the characters but something is always slightly off.

And lest you believe that my dating mishaps only take place nationally, l assure you my luck follows me to foreign lands as well. One relationship on my travels started successfully enough: I had a summer romance complete with my fling rushing to the airport to see me one last time before my flight took off. Later I found out he had a whole other family. And the rushing to the airport part …well it just happened to be the day his family was returning from a trip and he was picking them up shortly after I was to take off.

But on a more recent trip back to my homeland I decided to give dating internationally another chance. After matching and speaking briefly on the app with Giorgos we agreed to meet in the public square of what is considered one of the most romantic island by tourists. Giorgos met me there dressed in what can best be described as European fashion complete with knock off work boots so I thought hey this might actually go somewhere (I love a good pair of work boots.) He was even better looking in person and I was excited to once again try and date a fellow Greek.

I will pause here to say I do speak my native tongue, maybe at a 3rd grade level, but enough so people understand me. His English, on the other hand, seemed to be much more basic and as we walked we navigated this hurdle through small talk. I kept insisting that he speak Greek since I could understand it better than he seemed to understand or speak; but he was persistent in speaking English. We walked through the lined streets and ended up at a bar half way down some well known steps but which seemed more for the locals. Giorgos, in perfect Greek, was able to snag us a table with an amazing view. After that though he turned to me and continued to try and speak with the very little English he knew.

And the date went on that way. There were a lot of one or two word answers from him and silences. I would ask him questions in Greek and he answered with English phrases. I asked him if he did not understand my Greek and that is why he spoke in English but he claimed to understand what I was saying and said he just wanted to practice his English. And practice he did. It was like I was listening to a duo lingo recording. Whatever Rosetta Stone English Giorgos had practiced before meeting up with me was what we covered so some of his answers did not really line up with the conversation. After two hours of this painful lesson I did not know I signed up for- and with the alcohol not helping in the least – the bill mercifully came.

It was at this point that Giorgos decided he could use our native language. He looked at me and without blinking, in (once more) perfect Greek says: “ So do you want to cover this.” I had been fooled yet again by my own people. I don’t know if this was a racketeering situation he had with the bar or what but I was not about to be scammed. So I responded with “I’m sorry I don’t understand what you’re saying. ” I left Giorgos and the bartender to figure out the bill betwixt them.

Unlike Lucy and her siblings I did not try to return to the adventures in a foreign lands. Dating at home provided me with enough complexes I did not need to seek them elsewhere.