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.