i didn’t cancel the date, but i let it…not happen

I was talking with a kindergarten teacher on Hinge who’s my age and very friendly, pretty, and when she mentioned, casually, that she’d just endured a long weekend of heavy drinking at her best friend’s wedding I got to thinking that it might be kinda hot to date an instructor who’s gonna do illicit shit with you all night and then roll outta bed, fix her hair, and head out to teach the alphabet.

So we’re talking on the app and it’s going well, talking talking over the course of like a week, and eventually we make plans to meet on Tuesday night. We live super close, she’s on Brickell and I’m a few blocks west, and so we’re apparently regulars at the same bars.

But we end up not meeting.

It’s not that we’d specified a time and place. It’s not like she went somewhere expecting to see me. I just…let it fall to the side.

I think it’s cuz, when she sent me her number over the weekend, we traded a few texts, it was kinda late at night, and she left me hanging on the last text I’d sent. Some question about her work.

She probably fell asleep.

Not a problem.

But then she didn’t pick up the thread of the conversation in the morning. Nor the next day.

Which is also perfectly forgivable. We’re all busy. I certainly don’t expect to be anybody’s social priority before we’ve even met.

But I’m also tired of shouldering the weight of every conversation I have on these dating apps–conversations that are only initiated because the other person and I have agreed, through a relatively anonymous filtering system, that we’re mutually interested in speaking to one another.

Again, we’re all busy, it’s forgivable that a person can’t find the time to chat; but I’m not looking to spend time and effort getting to know somebody who can’t be burdened to float their half of a conversation that they willingly conjured.

This is also probably just me being pissy. Like it isn’t so much a conviction as it is an accumulation of little frustrations. And if it wasn’t for the fact that I’m talking to this other person, the one I went to The Sylvester with, and also the ongoing and maybe romantically-tinged conversation with a freckly Cuban entrepreneur, I probably wouldn’t be so fire-and-fury about the fact that the schoolteacher ignored a text.

But here we are.

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