Leigh

Leigh seemed too perfect. A 6 foot 4 mountain man, Leigh was studying for his masters in neuroscience at USC. I was immediately smitten. After a few messages about nature and mountains we’ve climbed, Leigh asked me to coffee. I put on makeup for the event. That’s a big deal for me. 

We chatted for a couple hours. He didn’t buy my coffee. Is that awkward? Should I expect guys to do that? Whatever.

I got in the car to drive home and was pretty sure I’d fallen in love. I was planning our wedding in my head as I sped back toward West Hollywood. I told my roommate that I’d finally had the perfect date.

Clearly, Leigh didn’t feel that way. I texted him to thank him for the date. No response. A few days later, I asked him if he wanted to go to a concert at a venue we both wanted to check out. No answer. This bastard was ghosting me (ghosting: the act of completely disappearing after a date). I couldn’t believe it. I had already married him in my head and now I’m going through an imaginary divorce. In case you’re wondering why I was so into Leigh after one meeting and so devastated to be ghosted, here’s his photo.

Rejection aside, I’d still jump him. Oooooof.

Advertisements

Archives

Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Join 1,836 other followers

Follow me on Twitter