True Colours

I got so caught up in the romance of the first date that I started imagining what a future could be like with you. By the second meeting, I had a strong feeling that you were not looking for a genuine connection with another human and you confirmed this soon after. It was almost like the thrill of the chase diminished as soon as we had sex, and even the content within your messages changed thereafter. The cheeky undertones disappeared almost instantly and I was the one who asked to hang out again. Our first ever chat consisted of a surprise phone call and we scheduled a meet up soon thereafter. Following that, any talks of planning another date turned into a sea of tentatives, and repetitive notions of playing it by ear. Suddenly I was no longer worthy of your time or undivided attention. You remained so hot and cold that it was impossible to ascertain your level of interest – this made me feel incredibly dispensable and cheap. I would prefer for someone who is not interested in me to say so, rather than play mind games. That way one knows to move on without shadow of a doubt. Even if you want something casual, there needs to be respect and open communication because at the end of the day, we are all just human beings with feelings.

I didn’t like the way you said to always assume you were dating multiple people at once, especially given your blase attitude towards protection, or lack thereof. If that’s the way of the dating world, then I hate it – the presumptuous nature of dating is just an excuse for guys not to communicate what their intentions are. Fucking hell, I’d rather know than turn a blind eye. That way, I can make an informed choice as I have this time round. I’m thankful that I put the nail in the coffin early on, before I had a chance to develop any real feelings towards you. Although I’m hoping that even if I did continue seeing you for a bit, I’d eventually realise how misaligned our hobbies and personalities are and let you go anyway. You seemed hesitant in divulging any information about yourself apart from snippets when I asked. I understand that people experience varying degrees of trauma in their lives and are not always willing to share things with a stranger. But there was an unnatural reservedness around the way you communicated – it was careful and calculated. Moreover, I’m certain that there was surprise at the directness of my question about what you were looking for. You weren’t just hungover or restless, you were taken aback like a deer in headlights. Had anyone else ever asked you this before, or did you just charm them like you did me, and then ghost them once they developed feelings/wanted more?

How many other women had you taken on the same first date, I wonder? All that talk about being unsure of where the fire mosaic was, and making the find seem fated was obviously skillfully crafted beforehand. You’ve lived in Melbourne for more than ten years so of course you know the neighbourhood well. There’s not a doubt in my mind now that you knew exactly where you were going and wanted to set the perfect scene. I don’t know what went through your mind when we agreed to go somewhere for another drink after leaving the wine bar. What was a magical evening meandering leisurely through magnificent gardens turned into a brisk walk through back alley streets where I tailed uncomfortably behind you, trying not to question the sudden change in pace. And just like that, we somehow ended up in the lobby of the Sheraton building where you lived. I should have left then and there, and trusted my intuition but I was too caught up in the perfection of the previous hours.

For someone who wants to appeal to women as an in-demand suitor, I get the feeling your life is far from the story you’re trying to tell others (and yourself). You wanted me to think that you had lots of other women lined up for dates; that you were highly desired in the single world. It didn’t seem special that I ended up at your place and in your bed on New Year’s Eve, it seemed convenient. And this isn’t to put myself down in the slightest, it’s to say that you didn’t exactly have a plethora of women waiting to bed you that night as you would probably would have liked for me to believe. That you were desperate for company that night, willing to stay up till 2am to wait for me. With me in my blissful champagne-filled state, I was happy to oblige, still hopeful that the spark I felt the first time was not just one-sided.

I think I liked the idea of you, a handsome European man with a white collar job and let the events of the first date ruminate in my brain until all potential red flags disappeared. From the get go, I could tell you were impatient by the way you complained at the wait times of the pedestrian lights. I knew you had no interest in leaving Melbourne, and that you didn’t drive/had no intention of getting your licence again. I knew you were not a fan of travelling and despised the idea of camping. And later on, when you confirmed that you were just after something casual, and then threw in a comment that you’d been married once, I wondered if it were true or just another hopeless attempt to escape the analytical eyes across the table. Although I did appreciate you sharing that small detail of your life, as it gave me insight into why it was in your nature to pursue casual relationships (assuming you were being honest).

I know that your mum passed away sometime ago and that your stepdad is essentially your only dad. He lives somewhere in the UK and you’re an only child. If I were to hazard a guess, it would be that you came to Melbourne because you were running away from something. From what I’ve gathered of your past, you used to love new experiences and I’ve seen photos of you skydiving. You obviously were an avid traveller and risk taker at some point in your life as well, given your somewhat unplanned move from the UK with a one-way ticket. You said you don’t really read books or listen to music or have any interest in the creative arts. You said you didn’t use social media and yet, the NYE crew found pictures of you on Facebook and online engagements as recent as last year. Even something as trivial as lying about your age online is enough to make one question why an inconsequential detail is even worthy of hiding from a potentially interested party. All these inconsistencies slowly told me the story that I didn’t want to hear or believe to be true – that you are just another liar.

For me, this has been an incredibly eye opening experience into vulnerability. I am usually someone who is so certain and trusting of myself. To be reduced to a child-like state of not being able to process my emotions properly has been very difficult. I never thought something like a couple of dates would make me question my own sense of worth. But every situation that challenges your view of the world is one that makes you wiser and stronger for the future. I will start rewarding inconsistency with unavailability and remember to hold myself in high regard. As Brene Brown says, “Our stories are not meant for everyone. Hearing them is a privilege, and we should always ask ourselves this before we share: Who has earned the right to hear my story?”