I’m the Asshole

December 13, 2022

I was driving down Loudoun County Parkway after work this afternoon trying to get to Walmart to buy scotch tape and hot sauce, as one does on a Tuesday. Am I the only one who buys scotch tape once a year to wrap three presents, only to store it in a drawer somewhere, and forget which drawer I chose – then one year later, I go to use the ample amount of scotch tape I bought the year before, and can’t find it? It can’t just be me. Anyway, I’m on my way to Walmart and the car behind me honks while I’m waiting for some kids to cross an intersection. I instinctively throw up my middle finger and start grumbling about how “I should just run over these kids because the prick behind me in the Prius is in a hurry.” Then I pull into my parking spot at the store and hear another, identical honking sound. Then it hits me. The podcast I’m listening to is playing honking sounds for some godforsaken reason and I flipped off that nice man in a Prius for no goddamn reason. Because I’m the asshole.

I tell you all a lot of story about the abuses I suffer in the DC dating scene (which is a lot), but to be fair, sometimes I’m the asshole. Last night, a guy asked me for my personality type and sign and I told him I’m a Pisces, and before I could stop myself, I said “But I don’t believe in that shit.” He said “You’re a little guarded, which is ok because life is traumatic. But the stars can heal you.” Again, before I could stop myself, I said “You’re not going to like me, man.” Because I’m the asshole. I know I’m the asshole, because I had already unmatched this poor guy once before. He asked me why I did that, and I honestly didn’t remember. I think he was a victim of a meltdown I had on Thanksgiving where a guy I’d been chatting with all day asked me for some of my turn ons and I said “Men who plan nice dates, men who go to therapy, and kisses that taste like beer.” He immediately unmatched me, and I started crying very quietly, because my two-year old nephew was asleep in his crib just a few feet away, and proceeded to unmatch with every man on the app. Fast forward three weeks later, and I desperately want to unmatch this man who thinks the stars will tell him anything meaningful about me, but I can’t. Because I’m the asshole.

The last time I went on a date was in early November and I felt like the asshole in that scenario too. We had a nice first date on Halloween – niceish I would say. He did tell me that I had red flags and that my suggestion that I like to cook dinner for the second or third date was super sexist. We also went to the worst restaurant I’ve ever been to in my life – everything there was made of kale. What I’m saying is that my standards are in hell, so by my standards, it was a nice date. And he was super into it, so I agreed to date number two. He put in a lot of effort for this one. He bought tickets to some surprise event in DC and told me to dress nice. I made a big deal of it and got my hair blown out and wore a really stunning dress. We ended up going to see the Madrid Opera do flamenco dancing, which was divine. It was a totally wonderful evening…except…I wasn’t really enjoying myself. I kept trying to be funny and tell stories, and he would just nod as if unamused. I would talk about my family and no follow-up questions would be asked. He held my hand in the car, which freaked me out because my personal opinion is that holding someone’s hand is wayyyyyy more intimate than kissing or even sex (maybe I do have red flags). Anyway, I just wasn’t comfy. So on the way home, I had to tell him that I wasn’t feeling a very strong connection – only I did this way too soon in the ride and we ended up driving down the never-ending ramps of his parking garage in total silence. He had to awkwardly let go of my hand that he was holding when I broke the news to him, and his face just fell. I also reallllllly had to pee, so this poor guy had to walk my little ass up to his apartment – the one where I’m sure he had been convinced that he was getting lucky that evening just ten minutes earlier – so I could pee before my 50 minute drive back to Aldie. I’m the asshole.

Our saga didn’t end there. A few days later, I was doing some reckless swiping on Bumble. I have this rule that I always swipe right on people I know, because it’s just polite, ya know? So I saw his profile and instinctively swiped right. A couple hours later, I got a notification that he matched with me. Fuck. So I got a text from him. “What are you doing?” I literally thought he was asking me what I was doing, so I told him I was trying to learn how to use my Cricut machine to make ear warmers for my little running team. He said “no, on Bumble?” I told him about my always swipe right on friends rule, and he said “Don’t fuck around with me. If you want to go on a date, go for the throat. Life is too short to fuck around.” And I didn’t know what to say, because I absolutely didn’t want to go on a date, so I just said “I’m sorry.” Now, I’m definitely the asshole here. But I’d like like to point out that the only way that he should have known that I swiped right on him was if he swiped right on me, so technically he was mad at me for doing the same thing he did. You know, like when your little brother would tell on you for opening your eyes during the dinner prayer, and you’d be like “your eyes were open too if you saw me looking, jackass”? You get it. Anyway, I’m still the asshole.

I haven’t been on a date since that one because I hate being in that position – the position of doing the hurting. I cried the whole drive home and had to call my parents for a pep talk. I caught my dad in a funny mood because the Assholes (oops, the Astros) had just won the world series and he kept telling me to Venmo him a chicken sandwich because he was hungry. But for the next few days I was just as depressed as I have been so many times when Taylor, John, Dan, Kyle, Gannon, Chris, Brent, Evan, Jarred, Nate, Andrew, Cory, Joshua, Ryan, et. al. have rejected me. I hate being the asshole. It’s the worst part of dating – way worse than the ghosting and getting stood up, and wasting money and energy and crippling low self esteem that comes from all of the rejection. Hurting people sucks. Not only that, but making a choice for yourself that a perfectly lovely, thoughtful, kind human with beautiful white teeth and huge traps is just not a match for you is incredibly difficult, because you have to make a decision that you are worthy of finding exactly what you want. Not almost what you want, or sort-of what you want, but exactly what you want. In addition to feeling like an asshole for walking away from a perfectly nice person, you also let all that rejection from your past get into your head and whisper “Are you really in a position to be picky here? Maybe you could get used to him not laughing at your jokes. Did you see the traps?”

Anyway, I don’t really have an uplifting moral to this story. I’ve been walking around a little Grinchy this holiday season because I don’t want to be alone, and I don’t want to hear about your Christmas outings and all the cute stuff you bought for your girlfriend. Because I’m the asshole. I’ve done a good deed here and there, and got the scotch tape and drank some hot chocolate, so I’m doing my best-ish. I am convinced that most of us are Scrooge from time to time and that’s okay, and maybe it’s fine to be the asshole every now and then so you can empathize with all the other assholes and try not to take it too hard when you have to deal with them. Idk. Bah.

For real though, Happy Holidays from one asshole to another.