The content creator trying to ghost his date

Illustration: Marylu E. Herrera

This week, a woman who continues to date a new guy despite her better judgment and discovers they have more in common than she thought: 25, single, Brooklyn.

DAY ONE

9:45 a.m. I’m not sure how I managed, but usually I start my days around ten o’clock. I run a social media agency and every day is a little different. I like quiet mornings, so I usually make myself a latte and read until I leave for the gym.

11 a.m. I’m an avid swimmer at the YMCA, but when I get there today the pool is closed for cleaning. I go back to my apartment and do a workout at home.

2 p.m. Take the long trip from Brooklyn to the Upper East Side and visit one of my clients. Today, I plan and film the content of the month. His staff and I are surprisingly close, and I let them know about my latest love routs. After work, we end up having a drink at Noho.

9 p.m. Back home, putting on a face mask and drinking wine while I plan the content. My roommates, K and T, watched the island of love with me. Large-batch creative work is mentally draining, so I take a 30-minute break from photo editing, take a sip of my favorite rosé, and open the door to hell: Hinge.

I have a new like! From “J.” Maybe it seems fishy that he lists his name only as J, but I’ve seen worse red flags, and maybe his parents named him just “J”? I am an optimist if nothing else. He’s cute, has a good job, and recently moved here from Los Angeles. But he is young, 26 years old. I usually date men in their thirties. My friends told me to diversify, so I tell him to pick a time and place. He makes a reservation at Greenwich Village for the following night.

DAY TWO

10am Wake up fresh. I am delighted with my appointment! I’m super outgoing and meeting new people is always fun.

2 p.m. I go about my usual work routine and grab a coffee at a buzzing spot nearby. Today is already a good day.

5 p.m. Our reservation is at eight o’clock, so I spend the next few hours getting ready. Personally, I love getting ready for a first date. I love choosing the outfit, putting on make-up, putting my hair in rollers, the whole thing. I opt for a pretty black dress that’s a bit fluid.

8 p.m. He’s cute, huh! And he has an accent! He is tall and from New Zealand. After ordering, he excuses himself to go to the bathroom. He comes back and is more nervous than before. I ask him what his parents do and what his hobbies are. He tells me he doesn’t know what his parents do (what?) and he likes to be active because his parents made him do training in wilderness survival and kidnapping (?) when he was a kid . I spend the rest of the date wondering if he did a coke line or was just nervous.

10 p.m. We end up meeting in Washington Square Park; it’s a bit hot in the sense that I find myself almost topless, but it doesn’t really do that for me.

DAY THREE

9:30 a.m. I wake up at my usual time and immediately check for hickeys; Luckily, we’re all fine there, because it’s a scorching New York summer and I’m not about to wear a turtleneck to work.

10am I go through my usual routine; latte, read and hang out with the true love of my life, my cat.

1 p.m. My roommate asks “How was the guy?” to which I reply that he may have taken off my shirt in Washington Square Park. Sure, she asks for the gritty details but there isn’t much else. I tell him I probably won’t see him again because the man is literally a walking red flag and he can’t afford to make it worth it.

8 p.m. Yeah, I’ll ghost. Not that he texted me either.

DAY FOUR

8am I wake up to a text from J: “Do you still want to go out?

11 a.m. After a coffee, I tell her I’m going to the ballet tonight with some friends (which is just an excuse to wear a ballgown). I tell him that if he’s okay with escorting me in a formal dress, we can meet up afterwards. He agree.

9 p.m. The ballet is over and I’m sitting outside Lincoln Center waiting for it. It’s a chilly evening, which is rare at this time of year. I am stressed. I probably shouldn’t be. He shows up exactly on time and is a real gentleman as we head to a nearby restaurant.

10:30 p.m. His apartment is a few blocks away. As we walk down the block, I remember my crazy days in college a few years ago. We walk through the revolving door of his hall. His apartment is eerily familiar. This is where I realize this is the same building and same apartment layout as a guy I fucked a few times three years ago.

As he takes me to his room and I remember why I date 30 year old men. No real furniture in sight, just purple LED lights, clothes strewn everywhere, a tapestry of palm trees behind his headboard (at least he’s got a headboard), and a Sharpie-drawn skyline on his bedroom window. floor to ceiling, tracing his view of the Empire State Building.

11 p.m. I will say, sex is good. I go to the bathroom right after and he asks me if I need him to show me where it is. I make a joke about already knowing where it is because “my old friend” had the same apartment layout.

I’m okay with how the night went. I got to fuck in my prom dress looking at the Empire State Building. I fall asleep easily.

DAY FIVE

7 a.m. I woke up the next morning to blinding sunlight streaming through its uncurtained bay windows. I finally wake up. We have nice little talks. He offers to order me a car to go home while we wait in the kitchen.

10:00 a.m. I go home and, as always, K shouts hello as soon as she hears the door open. We catch up on our date nights. His went terribly – somehow Hinge had found him another man who finds ketamine a little too funny.

7 p.m. After thinking about it all day, I tell K again that I don’t think I’ll see J again. It’s just a bad vibe I feel. I can’t keep seeing a man with the Manhattan skyline drawn on his windows.

DAY 6

10am I text myself. He had fun the other night and wants to see me again.

11 a.m. I finally decide that I will cut him off. I won’t.

3 p.m. So I text J. I tell him “it was fun” – I don’t mean to be mean – but I don’t say anything about hanging out again.

He suggests we go to a bar and offers to pay for all the Pac-Mans and margaritas I could want. In a moment of weakness, I say yes. I love Pac-Man and Margs. I can’t tell my roommates because they’ll shame me for not going.

9 p.m. I’m waiting in the barcade at Chelsea. I walk in and remember how cute he is, despite all his red flags. We start playing arcade games. Nothing makes you reconsider the course of a situation ship more than friendly competition.

10:30 p.m. He mentions how close his apartment is. After three beers, I am also amazed at how close to his apartment. Less than ten minutes later, I walk to a familiar revolving door and wave to the doorman.

I’m back in the purple-lit room, with that familiar skyline, but this time it’s a little charming. I collapse on his bed. He sits down and starts telling me a story about a housewarming party he threw at that apartment when he first moved in. I digress a bit until he mentions the name of one of his best friends who ran this party.

This friend had such a unique name that I’ve never met anyone else with the same name… except for a man I slept with three years ago. The one who lived in this building.

“I-did this friend live in this building?” »

“Yeah, how did you know?” In fact, he used to be in this apartment and my roommate has his old bed!” Horror sets in. J is not only best friends with a man I slept with three years ago, but he lives in the same apartment he used to live in.

11:30 p.m. I notice that I am silent and ask what is wrong. I have nothing to lose so I tell her the truth: that I fucked her best friend and that not only am I not sorry, but I’m more concerned about how the universe let this happen to me. .

To his credit, after this revelation, J has no problem talking about my pants and fucking me under the watchful eye of the Palm Tapestry.

00:30. I’m going back to Uber as soon as we’re done.

DAY SEVEN

11 a.m. I let myself sleep because it’s a weekend and honestly, I lived it. When I get up, I make myself a latte and turn on a Korean drama while I wait for T and K to wake up.

12 p.m. They emerge and I fill them. We search Instagram and I find a picture of J and his friend with their arms around each other. The photo was taken in California two weeks before I met J. T actually recognizes the third guy, who is crazy, but such is life for the three of us who are single, on all the same dating apps and living in Brooklyn.

7 p.m. While texting J, he jokes that he has to leave town, and I tell him that I have to leave the country. It’s all too weird for me. It’s a good story but it’s just too weird.

9 p.m. As I prepare for bed, I’m 100% sure I’ll never see him again.

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