Kiki looks into her own choices

“It’s the hope that kills you.” — Marian Keyes

In more than twenty years of dating, I have never been chosen. Wanted, yes. Lusted over, definitely. Maybe even loved once. But never chosen.

There was always something else: an ex, a new distraction, alcohol, drugs, unfinished business. And I was left circling the edges, the almost, the maybe. Convenience. Set aside when something shinier appeared. Being picked up only when it suits someone else is a different kind of abandonment. A quiet repeated discarding. I was the charging port- the place someone plugged into when they needed to be seen, loved, or to escape the shittiest parts of their lives for that moment. Only to be disconnected when they felt restored. My significance to them only measured by my usefulness.

It has taken me a long time to understand why I kept staring at closed doors. It wasn’t confusion or blindness. Probably a little bit of stupidity but mostly a lot of hope. Hope that one day I would be seen too. Hope that this time I would be chosen.

But at this point I am tired of waiting for footsteps that never come.

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 age gaps

The truth hurts one time, a lie hurts 7,000 times. ~ Khloe Kardashian

Trying to be in any type of healthy connection after a toxic relationship is not for the weak. Doing it after two back to back toxic situations is nearly impossible. I didn’t even realize just how traumatized I was until I met TeamThirtyThree.

Once I began to see how unhealthy the behavior had been between my ex and me, I allowed myself to go out, date, meet new people, and build up the little self-worth that remained. I quite literally stumbled on TeamThirtyThree during a girl’s night out when a lot of alcohol and extracurriculars were involved. He seemed gentle even in our first run in, and funny. He made me giggle and let me be silly. That was the best part. Surprisingly, that first night, with all my antics, he just played along: never judging. In almost eight years of relationshits, my silliness had been lost; the whimsical, soft part of my personality had been buried, replaced instead with deeply jaded views.

From our first date, TeamThirtyThree listened to my stories seemingly excited to hear them and, in later meet-ups, referenced what applied to the conversation at hand. What a novelty it was for me that someone cared enough to remember the things I had said. Any tomfoolery coming out of my mouth rolled off him; he just played along. Nonsensical invitations were accepted without questioning why I would use silly evites or memes to set up a date; he just RSVPd and showed up. One time, I asked him if he would try a popular TikTok dance trend with me, and he did so without hesitation. I would have never dared ask either of my two past partners, for fear of being mocked. There was a safety in TeamThirtyThree that didn’t exist with the others. He brought out a joy and softness I had forgotten was there. He allowed me to be loving toward him- something that had only been met with rejection from my ex.

It wasn’t all roses, though. My past relationships didn’t allow me to trust him, and I made several comments about him lying—enough that he eventually asked me to stop because of how unsettling it was. It turned out TeamThirtyThree truly couldn’t lie; it simply wasn’t in him. In another instance, we were texting about plans, and I was convinced he would stop replying and not follow through. I was so certain of this outcome that when he did show up, I cried. It felt surreal that a person could make plans, commit, and follow through. That was when I realized how imbalanced my last relationships had left me.

Because I am continuing this blog, it does mean TeamThirtyThree left, but I knew it was going to end, and that was the other part. From the beginning, he was very clear with his intentions, showing me all the information I needed to make a decision about how I wanted to proceed. Imagine that: a casual fling being the healthiest most honest communication I experienced in almost eight years. Right now, sitting with my feelings, I regret the choice I made, and part of me wishes I’d never met him because it’s just another disappointment in a long string of those; but it also shone a light on what I had come to accept and expect as normal. It showed me how I had changed myself and shrunk to fit someone else’s needs. I expected so little that effort seemed magical enough to send me to tears. If anything, TeamThirtyThree returned me to myself. As I am wrestling with the sadness, I am also acknowledging that there is no way I can ever return to the place I was, where I gave up all the parts of myself and my happiness so someone else could find theirs.

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.