“You’re husband material,” he said, looking into my eyes with candor. “And I have a terrible habit of only falling for guys who are bad for me. So I’m not really interested in seeing you again.”
“I made a huge mistake,” he said, looking away. “Making out with you sent the wrong message because I don’t think you’re that cute. But maybe we can hang out again some time.”
“Chad was the one who got away,” he said to a friend, who later told me. “He was sweet and good-looking and actually wanted to date me. But he expected me to text back, to put in effort. I know he’s still single, but I’m just not ready for that kind of guy.”
“You’re the kind of guy I could move across the country for,” he said, with those blue eyes right on mine, “and you’ve accomplished so much. I can’t do this, not until I’m someone who’s done as much as you have.”
“You’re friends are crazy hot,” he said, eyes mischievous on the dance floor. “But they aren’t my type. I prefer guys like you, guys more average.”
“I like everything about you,” he said with a reassuring lopsided smile, “and there is nothing I would change. I could spend my life with you if you just change the following things about yourself.”
“I love you,” he said, with sincere eyes much too quickly, repeating it often and consistently until I believed him. Then one afternoon, he shrugged, averted his gaze, and said, “You know, I’m just not feeling it anymore.”
“If only I wasn’t married,” he said.
“If only I was younger,” he said.
“If only you were younger,” he said.
“I’m not ready for kids,” he said.
“Can you bring your kids on our second date?” he said.
“You have nice skin but you have some work to do on your body,” he said.
“I might be busy for a month or two but maybe I’ll give you call some time,” he said.
“I only like older guys,” he said.
“I only like younger, skinny guys,” he said.
“I only like beefy bears,” he said.
“It’s only been three days, but do you want to be my boyfriend?” he said.
“You’re not Mormon enough,” he said.
“I don’t date ex-Mormons,” he said.
“I like you, but not as much as I like meth,” he said.
“I like you way too much way too soon,” he said.
“I’m just not ready to date someone again,” he said.
“I’m just looking for sex,” he said.
“You actually look good now, what changed?” he said.
“Don’t call me handsome, it makes me insecure,” he said.
“I’m ashamed of myself as a person,” he said.
“I’ve never dated a therapist. Do you think I have depression?” he said.
“I’m not capable of trusting another person again,” he said.
“Yo keep a lot hidden,” he said, his brown eyes focused on me intently. “It makes me wonder what you’re thinking. It makes me wonder about you. You seem like a great guy. I mean, how is a guy like you still single?”