It’s ex-files, where we stop chatting fashion for just a minute and talk dating horror stories. An attempt to be like Carrie Bradshaw? Sure. But let’s be honest, dating horror stories are both horrifying and funny. Names may have been changed to protect identities, some details moved about. Hungry for more? Try: Tinder on an Airplane, Jumping to Conclusions, and The One Who Asked for his Money Back. There are quite a few more when you search “ex files” in the search tab!” Also if you want to be written warmly about- behave better! xo RA
This is yet another Ex Files where I am taking liberty with the word “ex”. This dude wasn’t an ex- we never went out on a date. But he was pursuing me (and I’m so grateful that younger me was annoyed enough with him to say no!) and makes for a great story…
Jeffrey and I met on a job. His position was higher than mine, but we had mutual friends on the gig, and while he was well known, he was also well liked. So when he started paying attention to me, I didn’t dissuade it. In fact, it was flattering and a bit exciting that someone who was witty and funny (and cute!), and also well thought of by my friends and co-workers, was flirting with me.
The thing? Though we were introduced many times, people used my name in front of him, and at one point I had a name tag on- Jeffrey refused to learn my name. Or perhaps, refused to use my name might be more accurate. I was wearing a red shirt? I was “red shirt gal” for the day. Black jeans? ” Hey, black jeans!” At first? A bit charming- as Jeffrey said it as if it were some private joke between us. Then. It became clear that calling me by “with what I was wearing” was both a bit to Jeffrey and a way to avoid calling me by name. Which, after a day or two- neither of which were charming.
Things -or names- came to a head when Jeffrey asked me to drinks (note-to late night drinks- another red flag!) and I asked him what my name was. He replied with what I was wearing (for the record, a low back shirt). I politely declined, not mentioning that it was a big turn off that someone I was working with – and expected me to say yet to a date!- couldn’t be bothered to learn my name.
And as it turns out- I dodged a bullet. Jeffrey, though charming and talented, was apparently living in his mother’s basement at the time and had a reputation of treating his dates horrifically poorly. Who knew that by simply wanting someone to know my name (when he should have!) that I avoided all that?
Here is to the bullet and bad dates that we dodged and the amazing shoes we got instead! XO RA
