An hour after our second date, he sent the message ending things. I was still in the part where I really liked him. He had already reached the part where he was trying to say goodbye kindly.
We’d been texting a lot for about two weeks. I thought he was cute, but it was more than that. He was the first guy I’d felt a genuine connection with, the first time liking someone had felt this strong. I didn’t have to convince myself to be interested. I just was.
His message said it had been great, followed by the words that made it clear there wouldn’t be another date. I couldn’t leave it there. I asked why.
Apparently, our senses of humor didn’t mesh. He said I was a great person.
I don’t know what I expected him to say, or whether another explanation would have hurt less. This one left me wondering how we could have come away from the same conversations feeling so differently. I’d felt a connection. Had I missed something obvious?
Now I’m questioning my ability to tell when a guy likes me. The texting had meant something to me. So had going on a second date. Neither guaranteed anything, of course, but I hadn’t realized how much hope I’d already attached to them until there was nowhere for it to go.
I deleted Hinge. Right now, the thought of starting another conversation, getting interested, and waiting to find out whether it’s mutual feels exhausting. I can’t imagine doing this again while I still want it to be him.
The hardest part is how little there is to look back on and how much I’d wanted to happen next. Two dates don’t give you many memories. They leave plenty of room for possibilities.
I keep wanting to message him and ask if we can try again. I know he’s already answered the question of another date. I’m trying to stop myself from asking it a different way.
