SPOT THE RED FLAGS
(After I finished writing this piece I almost didn’t post it. It hit me hard after re-reading it. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a bit embarrassed of who I was at the time.)
Below is an actual woman I went out with during the final months of my online addiction.
See how many red flags you can spot.
Her online profile was top notch.
She had a stunning face. A natural beauty. Super short hair.
The photos of herself were artsy. In front of a NYC graffiti wall. On the Brooklyn Bridge. Sitting on a blanket with a lake in the background. Smiling on a wicker hammock with a green grass back drop. Sipping a glass of wine on an old Victorian porch.
Her bio stated sapio-sexual.
We match and exchange a few messages back and forth.
To my surprise she wants to talk on the phone immediately. No pre-qualifiers. No love letter type texts for days to build trust and prove myself. After two or three texts back and forth we get on the phone.
She is a ball of energy. Her first words out of her mouth are, “Hey Frame Over 40, just want you to know I am awesome.” Not so much as a “Hello.”
Her voice is super cute.
I get a kick out of how she started the phone call. I look at is as a challenge. She is trying to rattle me. Shit test me. See if I get defensive or offended by her brazen self-confidence.
I tease her back, non-plussed. She loves it. But she keeps on stressing how awesome she is.
She mentions after only 5 minutes that all her ex-boyfriends still think the world of her and she can text me screenshots as proof.
I found this bizarre. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see she has self-esteem and self-worth issues, but I press on.
She tells me it’s her birthday tomorrow. She turns 51. But she will make time in the evening to see me.
On the condition of course that her friends don’t end up asking her to do something. Then she will have to cancel. Because she has tons of friends who love her. And she can send me texts to prove it.
I press on.
I also find out during the conversation she bought herself a birthday cake. I don’t believe her.
When we hang up I get a text – it’s a picture of the birthday cake on her kitchen table.
Our first date is at a bar on the water. Outside decks overlooking the harbor. Gorgeous night.
She is a pretty girl, very pretty – despite the short hair. Looks 10 years younger than her age. She’s like 100 pounds. But still has a nice little round ass and flat stomach, zero tits.
She wears baggy bell bottom jeans and a loose fitting tube top type shirt. There is some sort of head band in her hair.
She throws a compliance test at me within the first twenty seconds of meeting her.
She asks if I can move a heavy wooden lounge chair to the other side of the deck so we can sit at an angle to watch the sun set. I comply immediately even though I feel like a jack ass lifting this thing over other people trying to have a nice relaxing evening.
When we finally get ourselves situated, sitting, and drinks in hand she brings up astrology.
She brings up how she speaks German. What made her learn German? Her career in the music industry had her living in Germany for few years and she dated a German dude while there.
She mentions in a past life she was raised in a commune.
I press on.
She shit tests me a lot. I answer everything. And if I see I am answering wrong, I back pedal until I settle on the right response. I think I am slick. Proud of myself I can handle anything she throws at me.
She tells me that I should’ve brought her flowers since it was her birthday.
I logically answer this jab with, “I don’t even know you, why would I do that?”
“Because it would’ve been the nice thing to do. A decent guy would have.”
I press on.
I find out she was engaged and moved out of state to live with the guy. Last minute she cancels the wedding and moves back home.
Another relationship she was in, she bought a house for her and the boyfriend. She left him too. And she left the house to him.
She was never married. Is not a fan of kids.
She hates her dad.
Turns out her dad treated her like a boy. Always told her to keep her hair short. Took her to work installing industrial sized windows for schools and warehouses. Her dad would pull her out of school to work with him.
This is still the first date.
I press on.
We make out throughout the night. She tells me she normally doesn’t kiss a guy on a first date but it’s her birthday so why the hell not.
We go on date #2 a few nights later.
We grab dinner this time. She prays to the dead fish on her plate. Thanking the fish for dying so she can eat it.
I press on.
Date #3 she gets in my car. I have heavy metal playing.
She immediately goes into convulsions. “Shut this off,” she screams. “My body can’t take the evil vibrations.”
I press on.
That night we have sex. It was boring. I sleep over. I am brushing my teeth the next morning with hippie toothpaste. I kept the water running between my spit and rinse.
She was able to hear the water running three rooms away. She comes in the bathroom and shuts the water. She reprimands me, “When you are not rinsing your toothbrush please shut the water.”
I was done.
I leave and ghost her.