The Initial Inkling: You’ve made plans and things seem great, the big day arrives but…you guys aren’t texting. It’s ok, it’s cool…not a big deal. You don’t like texting all that much anyway, just message him if you haven’t heard anything after your shower…
Just message if you haven’t heard once your makeup is done…
Just message after this episode of How I Met Your Mother.
The Breaking Point: Ok, so you’ve spent half the episode watching the clock and the other half checking your phone, enough is enough. It’s an hour before your date and the meeting place is at least a 40 min walk away….so you send a casual text: “Hey! Are you still good for 7-ish?”
The Rationalization: “There’s no way!” you think to yourself. He seemed way more into you than you into him, if anything you should be the bailer instead of the bailed on! You think back to your most recent interactions, the sweet message suggesting how excited he was for your date, how he said he was “intrigued” by you and you’re totally flabbergasted. Maybe he got caught up at work, maybe his phone died, or maybe he was abducted by a terrorist organization that’s holding him captive until he builds them a weaponized, metal suit that ultimately defeats the terrorists and fight crime….
The Realization: You open tinder (the birthplace of this beautiful relationship) and realize you can’t find your convo…He’s unmatched you, it’s 7:30 and you are text-less. You are officially being stood up.
The Shame: You feel the colour rush to your cheeks when it hits you that this is real. You’re going to have to tell all your friends about this and that just friggen sucks. You don’t want to hear the supportive/pitying line “you’re too good for him” or that “there are plenty of fish in the sea”. You know that! Nonetheless, feelings of self-doubt envelop you as does the disappointing realization that you definitely won’t be hooking up tonight.
The AW HELL NAW: At this point you magically transform into a strong, independent black woman who don’t need no man. Who dafaq does this guy think he is fkin witchu…. He’s nothing special and you are a queen. You run through all his potential faults in your head and conclude that if he doesn’t want to meet you, it’s his loss…You laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation and finish off the glass of chardonnay sitting on the coffee table.
Acceptance: You say “F*** IT”. Put on a push up bra, your fave pair of heels and get the eff back out there. There is NO use sitting on your ass moping over someone who did you wrong. Realistically, if he’s the type to pull this shit then do you really want that kind of guy anyway? Save yourself the pity party, take a shot and go have some fun!