Tag: Ex Files

Ex-Files: The One Who Wouldn’t Take No

Investment Piece: Ex Files

An Update to this Ex Files? Bob recently showed back up. He “had such a great time the last time he saw me” and wanted to see me again. He was going to be in my neck of the woods and would love to grab a drink, etc- and while I meant to respond – I forgot. Completely. And once I realized I ghosted Bob (which I get is bad)- a peace came over me. Why waste time explaining no to someone who doesn’t get it? Why put yourself in that position? So:

Loves! It’s here! In my ultimate attempt to become Carrie Bradshaw, and satisfy my friends’ need to hear my awful dating stories (and sadly, there are a lot), we give you: Ex Files, dating horror stories. Yes, these stories really happened, yes, names/dates/places have been changed to protect those involved, and yes, if you wanted to be remembered well, behave better.

This post is a little hard to read, think about, or discuss. I’m not an expert, nor do I pretend to be. Should we have a conversation about toxic behavior? Yes. Are “nice guys” bad? Not necessarily, but loves, if you’re a nice guy who thinks that being nice entitles you to certain behavior from women: you’re not a nice guy. If you have been assaulted, please speak up, seek help if you need it, and do what you need to do to take care of you. And with all of these warnings, I give you:

The One Who Wouldn’t Take No

There was a man, let’s call him Bob, who was interested in me. Now, for part of our friendship I had no clue that he was interested, as we were just friends. And not close friends, but say hi to friends. Bob and I went to college together, and while we knew each other there, we were never close. As with most friendships that are casual and fleeting, the only contact we had for years was Facebook. And even that was casual. Bob was a nice, kind guy, but not for me. Beyond that, I never thought about him that way as we never went much further than pleasantries.

About a year ago, Bob and I ran into each other at some alumni events, grabbed a coffee, grabbed a drink. But again, I thought nothing of it and wasn’t interested in anything more. Bob asked me to dinner one time, supposedly to chat about work; but at the table Bob’s interest in me as something more than a friend came up. I politely let him know that I was seeing someone, and wasn’t interested in him. I thought that the matter was handled.

It wasn’t.

Over the next few months, Bob would reach out constantly via text and email. Just to chat. To try to make plans. To let me know that he was thinking about me. I was polite, engaged when necessary, but let him know repeatedly that my feelings had not changed. I truly though that Bob was harmless: he was nice, he prided himself on nice, I just thought that he was a bit awkward at dating. However, at some point Bob’s behavior began to go from “nice” to “not nice”. Bob told me repeatedly he was nice, and he was. However, Bob was under the impression that I owed him something for his niceness; that every compliment or gesture entitled Bob to something. Not only is that off putting and untrue, it made me avoid Bob.

Things came to a head when Bob asked me out, and I said no, as I already had plans. While this would have been the end of it in most circumstances, it wasn’t the end of it for Bob. As Bob felt he was owed something, he wanted to know why I told him no. Bob didn’t call or text to find out my reasoning. Bob showed up at my house, came in, and wanted me to explain to him why I couldn’t go out with him. Now, maybe you’re thinking that every one wants closure or deserves to know the truth; I have never had anyone else show up at my house after texting me to go somewhere to find out why I told them no. Yes, Bob was bigger than me. Yes, Bob brought up how he was a trained black belt. Yes, Bob showed up at my house to challenge a no he received. It was scary, and inappropriate, and he didn’t see that.

As many women do when faced with a situation that makes us uncomfortable, I tried to diffuse it. I explained that I had other plans, I placated him, I got him out of there. The worst thing that happened to me is that Bob tried to kiss me, it didn’t work. And while I had reinterated that I was not interested in a romantic relationship with Bob, he continued to ask me out for months, till he became too mad that I constantly said no.

I’m not sure that Bob gets it to this day.

Is this part of a larger convo? Sure. Do I know how to solve this problem? No. And do I know if ghosting is the answer? No.

Wishing us all a week of people who can take a no and amazing shoes!
XO RA

Ex Files: The One Who Argued about Football

a purple TCU flag flies on a patio with hanging crystals, sliding door and wooden fence

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

Without further ado I bring you:
The One Who Argued About Football

We know that I love football (my feelings on football are ever fluid, aka mainly I’m mad about some coaching changes, and as my schedule changes I can no longer prioritize football, or use it as time alone, but that’s a convo for another post). Yet, I was raised on football, know football, and do love it. And so when that is recognized- I LOVE it.

A few years ago (or more, my sense of time is so off lately!), I got a message from one of the best football coaches of all time (and the head coach of my alma mater at the time. Yes, you probably know but as I didn’t ask for his permission to use his name, we’re protecting him!) sent me a message stating “It’s nice to see someone who knows so much about football”. As you can only imagine, this message made my day, month, year, and if at one point you heard a happy yelp that might have been me!

So, you can also imagine my defeat when my boyfriend at the time, when told about the BEST message ever was blasé. In fact, I think his exact words were “It’s not a compliment”. Note- it was a compliment. And -at least to me- it was a big deal. Yet, never wanting to rock the boat, I didn’t argue at the time.

However, a few weeks (maybe months) later, a football fight happened. We rooted for different pro teams (which can work, as long as there’s respect). But. There was a call in the game that this ex and I had different views on. He said:” You need to calm down, it’s not like you get football.”

And when I tell you I was mad. When I tell you how I hated that comment. When I tell you the joy I felt when I got to say : “Oh Really?!? According to (redacted hall of fame coach) I do get football. And I think he knows more than you!”

This was not the fight that broke us up. But I won’t lie and tell you that someone I was in an relationship to essentially poo-poo my knowledge and interests didn’t influence the rest of our relationships. I don’t think that we have to agree on everything, but I do think us thinking highly of our partners- and all of their interests is key.

Has there ever been a fight that changed how you saw partner? I would LOVE to hear about it!
XO RA

Ex-Files: The One Who Commented on my Weight

Investment Piece: The Ex-files

Loves! It’s that time of month again: I dish out stories from the front lines of dating and you grab your popcorn! Need more check this one and this one out!

With no further ado I give you:

The One Who Commented on my Weight

There isn’t one among us who hasn’t put their foot in their mouth at some point; I know that I’m guilty of that sin. However, there are times when you put your foot in your mouth, and times when you choke on it.

I met Ben at an audition. (Yes, in the running for one of the most LA things I’ve ever written). He was charming, funny, and your average LA Actor type. We exchanged numbers and decided to meet for dinner the next week after work. Nice. Normal. Nothing to be over dramatic about.

Before our date there were the usual texts, just enough to give you hope for the evening of; the only issue with hope is that it can be dashed. Now, let’s be clear, the date wasn’t completely horrid (and to this day I don’t think he meant to be malicious). We went to an improv show and laughed. We went to dinner, and things got awkward.

Dinner with actor types is always a minefield, between shoots, cleanses, and general pickiness, you never know what food issues the person you’re with has. It can be a comedy of errors or a night of horrors. The general rule of thumb though is you handle it with grace and humor, and then you can go back to your friends and complain about them. So, I thought nothing of ordering my meal with double veggies instead of carbs (it’s just what I do). However, in retrospect the carbs would have been easier to deal with.

Without waiting for an opening, Ben decided to comment on my order. He also choose to let me know that I “should try working out to control my weight problem”. Yep, that’s the quote. I don’t believe that one’s weight, workout regime, or food order are anything to comment on (unless you want to go to spin class with a person or some of their fries). Now, years later I’m still not sure what the appropriate response to this comment is (was). Ask for tips? Mention that I have it under control? Admonish anyone for thinking that weight control is an appropriate place to start?

Ben, however, took my silence as eagerness for information. The next 45 mins were spent with Ben giving me all sorts of workouts I could do. He recommended running (so I could lean out), lifting (so my arms could look great), and playing basketball (because he enjoyed it). I may have been silent but I sat there giving Ben the death stare, sighing, and grabbing my knife tightly. Ben might be a funny actor, he wasn’t the best at picking up social cues.

After dinner, we went our seperate ways. I hear from Ben occasionally (one time he even complimented my legs). I don’t wish him ill, and (again) I truly don’t think that he was trying to be mean. However, the comment and the lecture on working out was a bit much for me (side note: my day job at the time was Spin Instructor, he knew that).

How would you have handled that?

XO RA

And if you haven’t heard: We’re thrilled to be on crowd-funding and mentor site iFundWomen! Check out our presentation here And if you would pass it around I would greatly appreciate it!

Ex Files: The Eavesdropping

This is a repost. One of the things that I oddly miss the most during this Pandemic? Eavesdropping. People watching. Making up stories about the things I see people do in the wild. While it’s clearly not the most important thing, I miss strangers and my brief glimpses into their lives. So. To relive that, I’m re-reading and relishing this story. About Eavesdropping! What do you miss? XO RA

Loves! It’s time for our monthly dose of dating horror stories: The Ex-Files! In my ultimate attempt to become Carrie Bradshaw, and satisfy my friends’ need to hear my awful dating stories (and sadly, there are a lot), we give you: Ex Files, dating horror stories. Yes, these stories really happened, yes, names/dates/places have been changed to protect those involved, and yes, if you wanted to be remembered well, behave better. Missed last month’s gem? You can get your fix on here
Happy Reading!! XO RA

The Eavesdropping

If you follow my acting twitter account (@adeliciamorris, sorry for the political/football rants now), you may have read this riveting, real time date that I overheard recently: (Read up)
Investment Piece: The Ex Files
Investment Piece: The Ex Files
Investment Piece: The Ex Files
Investment Piece: Ex Files

The story is as simple as I tweeted it. I sat next to (basically on top of) a couple on a horrible date at a cafe in LA. She was a cute, 20 something, who clearly wanted out. He was a bum, who had excuses for everything, might not believe in capitalism, and wasn’t kind to her. While I had to leave before them, as the cafe needed my table; I (and those following on twitter) couldn’t help but wonder if he left her with the bill. My guess is that he did. My hope is that she never finds herself in this situation again.

What stood out to me about this story, besides the obvious horror, was that it was a date that I had been on; not recently, and maybe not to this extreme, but I dated this guy in my 20s. I remember dates that were just so off, with men who couldn’t see (or care) my discomfort, and times when I thought that being a nun might be a viable option. LA is home to many of these “manchilds”, the guys who think it’s great to not take or have responsibilities, who use women, who think nothing of stiffing a girl on a date. The sad truth? My guess is this happens more than we think, to varying degrees, in cities around the world.

So, my question becomes: women, why are we allowing this? I’m not anti giving people a chance, and have some childish habits myself (I clap like a kid on Christmas when I get new shoes). However, there has to be a line and I think it’s time we drew it. Out on a date and it’s going horrible? Leave. Uncomfortable? Leave. Can tell that this guy doesn’t respect you? Leave. Like you, I was raised to always be polite and make people fell at ease; however, that shouldn’t come at a personal price. My new challenge to others, and myself, is that the next time I’m in a situation like that is that I will get myself out of it. I will make an excuse, tell the truth, ditch, whatever needs to be done so that I leave.

Here’s hoping that girl got out!

XO RA

The Ex-files- the one who yelled

Investment Piece: The Ex-files

It’s here again! The horror stories from dating front lines that I’m hoping you’re enjoying as much as I do! AS usual in the Ex-Files: all names and some facts have been changed to protect identities, but all stories DID happen to me (or a girlfriend I love). Want more Ex-files? Check here, here, here, and here. Love bugs, let’s remember that if you want to be written about warmly, you should behave better–or you can find yourself in the ex-files.

Without further ado: the one who yelled.

Real talk? I’m a yeller, or I can be when I get angry enough. However, because most people don’t really respond well to yelling, I try to keep it to a minimum. As in, I don’t yell if I can help it. It’s been my experience that yelling doesn’t get you want you want. This guy, didn’t feel the same way, however.

I met Mike through friends, and he seemed nice enough. Charming, able to carry a conversation, cute, and he made me laugh. We had a few dates that were great- the conversation, the banter, the wine.

But loves, this is where I let you know that there were some red flags I didn’t pick up on. Why? He was charming and made me laugh, I was just getting to know him, I live in two cities and dating is hard. I’m not sure. I like to think that if I were to go back, I would have saved myself some time (and Mike an appearance on the Ex-Files), but I don’t know that I would have been forceful about them. You might be getting more worried than necessary about now–nothing bad happened, Mom!

But loves, Mike was angry. Not all the time, and not at me, or waiters, or valets, or anyone around us. Mike was angry at the women in his past, especially his mom and ex-wife. In our “get to know you” chats, how these women had wronged, belittled, underestimated, and hurt him (while Mike persevered and was the victim). It wasn’t constant. It wasn’t violent. But it was there; so much so, that at one point I asked Mike if he was over his ex, and if things were ok. He claimed that it was fine, and promised to stop talking about it so much.

For our third date, Mike took me on what seemed to be an amazing date. It was Christmas time. He let me go shopping for a minute, we watched fake snow, and we settled into one of my favorite restaurants. Mike sat down and proceeded to order us a bottle of wine, 2 appetizers, and a steak for himself. He then proceeded to let me know that I was expensive to take out to eat (*side note: I’m not scared to split checks, and I’m always willing to own what I order. At this time as I had put in only a salad, the comment seemed a bit out of the blue). However, the conversation was great, and it was (fake) snowing, so I joked it off.

The restaurant began to fill up, our waiter was friendly, and the night seemed to be on the right path. Then: The Yelling. While our wine and appetizers were flowing, and our waiter was chatting, a couple at a neighboring table leaned over and asked about one of our plates. At the same time as the waiter, and the music, and Mike took that moment to ask or tell me something. It was loud. I couldn’t hear. So, I asked him to hold on and repeat what he said. Mike yelled, about how I wasn’t allowed to speak to him that way, about how awful I was, about how he was not to be blown off. What was once a noisy room was now silent. I was incredibly emabarrassed.

This is where I wish that I could say that I left. No matter the situation, I know I didn’t deserve to be screamed at and belittled. I was embarrassed, mad, and ready to go. I wanted out, but I also wanted people to stop staring, for it to end, and to do this in private. So I did what women have been doing for years, I tried to make it right. I attempted to calm Mike down, quiet him, make it seem ok for everyone there. And it worked. We made a show of going on, and it was ok. We left and I went home, upset at both him and how I had handled it. (Side note: I think this is the only time I ever have been screamed at like that in public). Mike and I made a plan to meet for coffee a few days later. He stood me up. But loves, I may have dodged a bullet.

Another side note: if someone is ever threatening or violent to you, leave. Peace isn’t worth it.

Hope that your week involves no bad and yelling dates, but if they do-tell me all about it! We’ll put them on the Ex-files!

XO RA

The Ex Files: The One Who Got Married

Loves, dating horror stories are everywhere; this is my monthly attempt to be just a bit more like Carrie Bradshaw, expel some of my dating demons, and hopefully make you laugh (and feel better about your own dating life). Names and some unimportant facts have been changed to protect people; but the moral of the story is that if you want people to write warmly about you, you should probably behave better. Want more ex files? Try here, here, and here. You can also search Ex Files on the right (and check out my recent Instagrams, sign up for our newsletter, buy some SkinPrint!)

But without further ado, The One Who Got Married:

Investment Piece: The Ex Files, The one who got married

I found this charming story in one of those Facebook threads about horrible Tinder dates, and I had the realization that I, too, have a story about some one getting married. (A. Yes, I’m as horrified about that as you are B. Those “dating horror” story articles always make me happy as it makes me feel less alone C. WHO GETS MARRIED WHILE DATING SOMEONE ELSE?)

When I was in my early 20s, struggling in LA, I happened to meet a charming Irish drummer. I could barely understand anything he said due to his thick accent, but he was cute and sweet, and did I mention he was a drummer? I was in my 20s, it was enough. We didn’t have anything hot and heavy, or remotely serious. We went out for drinks twice, I went to see his band once. That was it, but he was sweet and called me at least a few times a week. On one such phone call, he asked me to go to Vegas with him for the weekend. I was working 3 jobs at the time, and couldn’t make it. He went, he had a good time, he called me the week after, I thought nothing of it.

However, he did begin to pull back after his Vegas trip. We made plans that fell through, he scaled back calling, we both lost a little interest. I didn’t really care; I was working 3 jobs and busy, and while I liked him, I didn’t LIKE him. But when he called me and asked me to come to his show the following weekend, I was in. (He was cute and he was a drummer). The day of the show, he called me to let me know that he had something to tell me. As it turns out, when he was in Vegas he got married, and his wife was going to be at the show. He said it was a “green card marriage”, but that his wife was taking it seriously, so I shouldn’t act like we were seeing each other at the show. I let him know that I wasn’t comfortable dating a married man, and we never spoke again.

This became a funny story, not something that I was upset about, because WHO GETS MARRIED and then thinks it won’t affect his dating life? As he and I never spoke again, I was left with many questions: Did his marriage last? Did she know he was dating? Did he really expect me to be ok with it? What would have happened if I went to Vegas-would he have asked me to marry him? Is he still drumming? We may never know.

The main lesson? Don’t get married while you’re dating someone else. It’s just weird.

Has this ever happened to you? I’d love to know!

XO RA

Ex Files: The One Who Asked for his Money Back

Investment Piece: Ex Files

Loves! It’s here! In my ultimate attempt to become Carrie Bradshaw, and satisfy my friends’ need to hear my awful dating stories (and sadly, there are a lot), we give you: Ex Files, dating horror stories. Yes, these stories really happened, yes, names/dates/places have been changed to protect those involved, and yes, if you wanted to be remembered well, behave better.

Enjoy! XO RA

The One Who Asked For His Money Back
I met Rick through friends, which is allegedly the best way to met people. On paper it made sense: I like sports, he was a sports writer, his bff was dating my bff; and if we could all just fall in love and live side by side, it would be the stuff that sitcoms dream of, in a word, perfect. Also, he was great with a witty text. (Side note: I may put too much stock in a witty text.) Nevertheless, when Rick asked me to dinner I said yes. I was even reasonably excited about the date, in the way that sarcastic women who secretly believe in fairy tales can be. A proper gentleman, Rick had called days before and we had made a plan: dinner and drinks on Thursday at 7, he was going to pick me up.

Thursday came. I was ready, early, just like my Mimi taught me. 7 came. 7:15 came. I got a text from Rick letting me know that he would be late–and I mean, we all know traffic is crazy, right? 7:30 came. As did 7:45 and another text-I should go ahead and eat, because Rick was super late. So me in my super amazing dress, and stunning shoes (like I have another kind) heated up a Trader Joes meal. Great date so far. 8. 8:30. Finally, 9 and Rick was waiting for me outside, and while the sarcastic gal in me wanted to rip into Rick (look, that kind of late is rude, period), I didn’t –I was betting on great drinks. And the drinks were great, we went to a martini bar, Rick apologized profusely, and I sat with my drink and prepared to learn more about this guy. Things, sadly, went downhill from there.

As it turns out, Rick had always wanted to play baseball as a kid. A normal goal, and maybe one that would have been in reach-you know, if he ever played. Yes, that’s right, Rick never played baseball. Not little league, not middle school, not high school, other than playing catch with his dad and friends, Rick had never picked up a bat. However, this didn’t stop him from trying out for his college team. (Takes guts, which I do applaud) To no one’s surprise, after years of not playing baseball, when Rick tried out for his college baseball team, he didn’t make it. Did that push him to train, try hard, and try again? Nope. Rick took it as a sign that his college coach was not a good coach, spent 4 years thinking about baseball, not playing, but decided to try out for the Minor Leagues. Spoiler alert: that didn’t end well either. I got to hear about this for hours, all while my acting skills were on full display, as I tried to pretend that this was normal date conversation. But don’t worry! Rick also insulted my sports teams, demanded to know if I thought he would be good at baseball, and let me know how trivial he thought my career was. The martinis were good, and I earned those suckers.

Thankfully, even the worse night comes to a close, and after what only felt like an eternity (but was closer to 2 hours), Rick took me home. Freedom was so close I could taste it. We turned on my street, Rick asked where he should park (you know, so he could come up). The fact that I didn’t sputter or have a heart attack is a testament to my ability to stay cool in a crisis. But to think–Rick thought the night went well, so well, Rick thought he would be invited up. I came up with some excuse about an early morning, gave an awkward hug, a punch on the arm (to really send home the message) and sprinted out of the car. (Maybe there’s a track team I can try out for?)

I thought I was safe. A week went by and Rick was silent. And if this story ended here, this would simply be another bad date, not that memorable. Loves, it went downhill. (Maybe there’s a making it worse team Rick could try out for?) Just when I thought Rick would be someone I could run into and be ok with, he sent me an email asking me out, and letting me know how much he was into me. I could ignore it. I could suffer through his adult disappointments. But I’m an adult, and while it’s not always comfortable, I believe in being adult with people. I let Rick know that I wasn’t available for the night in question, and while I enjoyed his company (Acting classes do pay for themselves, dad!) that I thought we would be better friends. Again, days of silence. I thought that was it. Until, the next week. Rick emailed me to let me know that “when makes an investment, he expects a return. He made an investment in my drinks, got nothing out of it, and would like to be repaid for the drinks I had”.

First–so many issues with that. Second, let’s be clear, I was out of Rick’s league and if I charged for my time by the hour the martinis could have cost $100 each, and he would still owe me money. Mind you, this was a good 10 years ago, and while it horrifies me that more stories are coming out like this (people, be better), and while I was sassy and confident then, I had no idea of how to respond to this request. WTF is wrong with you didn’t seem like the best option to someone I would most likely have to see again. So, I waited a few days, and then sent an email (crafted meticously with more than one friend) letting Rick know that I was sorry he was so disappointed, that I too was disappointed we didn’t hit it off (loves, I deserve mad points for not letting him know that his baseball story was crazy), and offering to buy rounds when our friend group went out again. I never heard from Rick again.

I dodged a bullet, but now again I wonder about Rick (turns out he found a woman who loved his stories and they have 3 girls–karma is really the best payback) and how many women he tortured.