Adam actually gave me a glimmer of hope for a hot second until he fucked it up.
When it comes to dating, I am a bit old fashioned. I do prefer the man takes the reigns and plans the date. It isn’t hard to pick a decent cocktail bar in a city that boasts thousands of them. The date was refreshingly good. We had a few drinks and a few appetizers followed by some more drinks. We ended things with the obligatory drunk make out session in front of the subway.
After our little rendez-vous I had to leave town for the week. This could very well be a kiss of death for a fledgeling relationship, especially in New York City where there are so many options that one can get easily distracted if the other person leaves for even a weekend. Adam however, did a good job at keeping in touch. He would check in every other day to see what I was up to. It was enough to show me that I will still on his mind but not enough to annoy me.
The day I got back I was very much looking forward to seeing Adam again as he invited me out for dinner and drinks. After finishing my makeup and blow drying my hair, I received this:
This was the last time I spoke to Adam but he did have the audacity to hit me via another dating app. Way to kill it, Adam.
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