Delight.

It’s been a minute since I wrote about my adventures in dating, and there’s a reason for that: I now officially hate dating. The last 7 years of stalkers and catfish and breadcrumbers and situationships and even perfectly decent men who simply lack any kind of nascent personality has got me shook, blog world. SHOOK.

Even the ones who are solid end up nuts or flaky eventually, it seems. I met this urgent care doctor on Match. Scratch that. We never met -- he was always unavailable, so we never got past texting. Oddly, he kept changing his name, I kid you not. First Jeff. Then Troy. Then Grant. "For security purposes, you understand?" But there were legit pictures of him all over his profile page, and if you're trying to conceal your online activities, camouflaging your pictures or occupation is probably more vital than covering up your name. 

This dude would text me at 3 a.m. and when I didn't reply because I was asleep, he'd apologize for obviously disturbing me and wasting my time and then delete his whole account in a fit of theatric angst. Then he'd reactivate the whole thing and send me nothing but lips emojis. When I noted that he seemed a bit erratic and said I didn't think we were a good fit, he responded by blocking me entirely. Then he super-liked my profile on a different app. Dramatic, much? 

I'd post his picture here so you could get a visual effect, but when I try to Google him, nothing comes up, so probably none of the names he gave me were legit.

Whatever. No real harm done. I abandoned Match for a different app. After many months of swiping left on camouflaged Midwesterners holding up dead deer by their antlers and gunning their crotch rockets, I recruited an older woman I work with at Persimmon, the boutique where I work part-time. Judy, it must be noted, took to Tinder like a duck to water. It went like this:

Judy: Ew, no.

Me: (swipes left)

Judy: No.

Me: (swipes left)

Judy: Cute dog, but no.

Me: (swipes left)

Judy: WAIT! Go back. What was wrong with "Carl"?

Me: He's married, see?

Judy: My God. Okay, keep going...No...No, ugly...No....No.

Me: What about this guy? He likes sailing and wineries.

Judy: Put him in our shopping cart.

Me: (swipes right)

After an hour or so of this, Judy and I had accumulated quite a "shopping cart" full of potentials. It was a slow day at Persimmon.

Judy: Now what happens?

Me: It depends. They have to also swipe right on us in order to start communication.

Judy: This is so exciting. I'M INVESTED NOW!!!!!

Judy may be invested but I rarely am. That's why it seemed like a boon to match with a guy -- let's call him Justin -- who seemed full of rare potential.

A tattoo-covered math professor who created a video game to teach kids about social justice issues and is familiar with attachment theory?? Yes, please. I will!

Justin sent me his phone number but then declined to FaceTime in lieu of sending me maddening texts like, "Hey, Elle :-)" and "Hope you have a good day today."

After 3 days of trying to wittily generate conversation out of thin air, I quipped, "Man, these conversations of ours are really flowing, eh?!" My hope was that he would take me up on the face-to-face offer.

Instead, I received the following message: "I find your texts uninteresting and frustrating. It pains me to say this, but I wish to halt our communication."

I'm sorry, what?

WHAT?!?!

He finds me uninteresting?

UNINTERESTING!?!?!?!?!?

I am a goddamn motherfucking DELIGHT. 

A DELIGHT!!!!!!

Ask my 3 1/2 friends. No one has ever been bored by interacting with me, are you even kidding me right now, Justin?

"To be fair," said my friend Natasha, who is also single and maddeningly logical, "probably lots of men have been bored by me, but just ghosted me rather than telling me outright."

I cannot decide which is worse.