GHOST STORIES WITH KATY

Like most single people in their early twenties, I have profiles on dating apps. I tend to go between Tinder and OKCupid but to be honest I haven't had a whole lot of success with either of them for a number of reasons - my heart wasn't in it, the distance between us was too far, haven't properly clicked with people, stuff like that. This is a story of what was almost a success but what inevitably turned to shit. I was ghosted by a Tinder boy, it messed with my head and so I'm dealing with it the way I always do - turning to today's cheapest form of therapy - blogging about it.

In early July I received a message from a nice looking boy. We'll call him Harry to save his privacy/stop my stepdad going to find him, and also so I can at least pretend I was ghosted by someone worthy like Harry Styles. So, 'Harry' messaged me in July and was charming and sweet and in general, what you want in first messages from a boy on Tinder. He was pretty keen to meet up but I was about to go on holiday to Alicante and honestly, meeting some random guy, no matter how nice he seemed, would just give me far too much anxiety to deal with. We chatted still that week leading up to me going away and also whilst I was actually in Spain. I can't lie, it felt like getting texts and snapchats from a nice boy, especially whilst I was away. The only thing that worried me - well, not worried but that I thought about - was that he seemed suuuuuuuuuuper keen. I mean like ten times more keen than I was at that point. I kept saying, "Haz, you're gonna be so disappointed when you meet me" - doing the whole self deprecation thing or the realistic thing, preparing him for the difference between me online and me in real life. And also preparing myself for him running for the hills at that initial meeting.

So I gets back off me jollies and this is where it gets ... interesting? Difficult? Really fucking annoying? Take ya pick, pals. So, this lovely boy, 'Harry', who seemed too good to be true and actually appeared to be keen about me - he lived in Whitley Bay, not far from me at all. Except when he didn't. Because most of the time he lived on his army training camp. In Southampton. Bloody nightmare I tell ya.

This meant I couldnt meet him as soon as I got back off me hols because he was no longer up in the North East. I was still holding off from like, believing in him or catching feelings because I have tried long distance Tinder chats before and they have never ended well. I gets back to the UK and 'H' continues being lovely, the morning texts and the excellent bants and the keenness was still there. One Saturday night he suggests instead of texting for hours that we should have an actual phone call. Now this particular evening I'd had a few drinks and was in the house on my own and with that little bit of dutch courage thought, 'fuck it'. The worst that happens is this is super awkward and one of us hangs up the calls. Needless to say, three hours later I was not worried about there being any awkwardness. He would be back in the NE in two weeks as part of his annual leave and I had come to terms with the anxiety over meeting a randomer. Now that I'd heard his voice (a very lovely Southern one) I was more convinced that he was a real person and less likely to murder me.

So at this point everything seems hunky dory at this point - he is keen for me, I've let my guard down and have started to let myself like him. I said earlier that the keenness was like 10:1. What happened seemed to me like as I got more keen, he grew less so. So it went from like 10:1, to 8:3, to 5:5, to in the end it was like 1:10. The constant messaging on his side basically stopped and I'm left wondering weeeeeelll, what have I done? Does he not want me to be keen? So I asked and he reassured me but continued being shit at texting and having no time to talk on the phone. Reading it back I know how obvious it is and how melty he made me but I swear it gets even worse. What I learnt from all this is that I get very very needy.

It gets to the week before he's meant to come back up North and he's pretty much ignored all of my messaged for three days. Now, I am not here to be played. I send him a text asking what's going on and get left on Whatsapp blue ticks. Chica is not here for this so I got a bit angry and send another text saying he had no balls and blocked him on everything - whatsapp, snapchat, insta, facebook, twitter, the lot. Yay for girl power!

It should have ended there. I should have cut all contact and moved on with my life. But I am pathetic and my friends, it did not end there.

The Friday H is back in Whitley Bay rolls around and let me be honest, I'd been thinking about this kid pretty much the whole time since I'd blocked him. It's difficult to go from having that sort of attention for a long time to losing it completely. I told you, pathetic. At this point I'm hormonal and lonely and decide to send a melty text like "Hi guess who regrets doing all that, I'm sorry bla bla bla wanna meet up whilst you're back?" Ya gal is only human and was being led by her ovaries. Soz not soz. Feminism - it's not just boys who have their brains taken over. So 'Harry' is like yeah I'm sorry for ghosting, let's meet on Monday. My lil heart was aglow I tell ya. Then Monday rolls around and I had to leave work early because my eyes were fucked (more on that in a different post) so meeting got postponed. We arranged again, I gave him my address and he said he'd come pick me up. Then nothing. He was very chatty the next day and I asked to see him again but he was apparently 'busy'. And the same the next night. And the next. Again, seeing this written in black and white makes it very very clear what was happening but baby Katy did not want to believe that.

We're texting as normal one night and I'm pretty much just being needy and desperate - not afraid to say so because this is all about honesty and yes, I was being desperate. He promised he'd see me before he went back down South. As you can probably predict, he did not keep that promise. All the while this is happening it's driving me more and more insane. I'm questioning my self worth because clearly I'm so shit and that's why this bloke doesn't want to be with me. I'm withdrawing from pals because I don't want to admit how much of a mug I'm being, especially when they've told me before that Tinder boys aren't to be trusted. I'm barely speaking to my family really - my rents wanted me to go up to their caravan over the bank holiday weekend but I was trying to keep it free as H was leaving the NE on bank holiday Monday. I genuinely was being that much of a mug. On the Friday I texted him like - "are you going to make time for me or what? Do you expect me to wait around for you?" And all I got back in reply was "I'm sorry, I don't know." Now, ya gal is a melty desperate mug but she knows she's worth more than an "I don't know". So he is blocked again.

This was like, three weeks ago now and he's back down south. I wish I could say I'd forgotten all about him but clearly I haven't - he's getting a blog post ffs. I've even sent further messages including the horrendous "if you're still single the next time you're up, you know where I am". Literally just kill me now. I need MUG tattooed right across my forehead.

So there we go, I got ghosted multiple times by a Tinder boy, have been left totally mental but I have learnt my lesson. I've deleted the stupid dating apps, blocked him on everything and actually deleted his number this time. I'm sure he'll make someone a lovely boyfriend and that there are actual Tinder success stories out there but it didn't work out for me. Sad sad but getting over it. If you know anyone who is into airport loving Spanish speaking Robbie Williams fans, do me a favour and direct them to me, would ya? 
Cheers pals

Over and out.

KB x