Sep 09, 6: The woman makes the first move within 24 hours, otherwise the match disappears forever. I'd developed what I believed to be a highly discerning online dating strategy. I seldom swipe right and rarely match, but when I do I'm certain I've stung him.
Advertisement I was visiting the Bay Area when we matched. Men in Northern California are much more interesting. I was already back in L. Louis, where he'd unexpectedly flown to support a hometown friend whose dear mother had died.
He lives in Marin, was raised in the Midwest, and works in finance. After texting a bit, he noted that he prefers communicating by phone. Texting is for teenage girls. And he should know, because he has two daughters in college. Which is why he understands women so well, he said.
The phone is more personal. He asked for my number. Chivalry is still alive, he said. Or wait, did he text that? Are you a veteran of L. We want to publish your story We chatted a bit for a few weeks. Men seem to care only about how women look and women about men with money. Finding me "a fascinating, beautiful woman," he offered to fly to L. We spoke the night before our date.
The plan was to meet at 4 p. Afterward, we'd have the whole evening together before his 9: I received a text: He'd been "called" to an unexpected meeting downtown. Our date would now be "around 5: At that point, I was in Mid-Wilshire, halfway between Venice and downtown in degree heat. I was sweating through my date-wear: Not too sexy, not too professional. My freshly blow-dried hair was damp and losing volume, quickly.
I was super annoyed. All I wanted to do was go home, tear my clothes off, turn on the AC and climb into cotton jammies. I'd rather be alone watching election coverage than be out on a date anyway. This could be a deal-breaker. But he'd flown all the way to L. I'd be on the 10 in late afternoon traffic either way. He texted back at about 3: I took a minute and replied, "I imagine you'll be closer to 6.
Affairs columns I decided to drive toward Venice. It was Gjelina after all. He had another unexpected stop in Century City. By the time he gets to Venice, we'd have time for only a drink and quick bite before bolting for LAX. I wanted to be home. But traffic to the Valley would be a nightmare.
It had cooled off, so I wandered down the street to Wabi-Sabi. I sat down at the bar, the restaurant's folding doors flung wide open. I felt the beach breeze and could almost smell the ocean air. I decided I'd wait till 7: So sorry for all this. He — who "hates" texting — texted to say he's sorry. I hadn't eaten in hours. Instead of feeling sorry for myself, I committed to staying in Venice. Which in nearly my entire adult life in L. On the , my phone rang. It was him, probably just about to board the plane at LAX.
I let it go to voice mail. Give me a call back when you get a chance. Not even a "Please"? So much for chivalry. I deleted the message. Does the dude feel guilty? Is he embarrassed, ashamed? Does he even realize how badly he blew it? I decided to send a scathing text while he festered in-flight. The following night he left another voicemail. There was something going on personally yesterday. I want to explain. His Bumble profile's since disappeared.
Julie Buckner is a communications consultant and owns a yoga studio. She lives in the San Fernando Valley with her two teenage sons. Affairs chronicles the current dating scene in and around Los Angeles.
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