I’ve been mostly nose to the grindstone this week, which means I have the syllabus and first week ready for my two Summer Session 2 courses that start in a month and that I’m caught on the course running now.
Someone close to me got some wonderful news that’s had me smiling all week, but it’s not mine to share.
Friday night, though, sucked.
I’ve started talking to a few people on Bumble, and Saturday night, I was supposed to have my first first date in two years. I put got relatively gussied up and went to the bar. I got there a little early, so I texted him that I had a table in the back and settled in the back.
He never showed.
It was surprising, since he had texted a few times that day about how excited he was to meet me.
After waiting 45 minutes, I messaged, “not coming?” And then I headed home.
He blocked me instead of answering.
Was he just playing games? Did he chicken out?
Naturally, the negative voice in my head has a lot to say about this. She’s sure he came, he saw, and he decided I’m too fat to even be polite to over a drink.
For the record, she’s been saying I’m too fat for love for the last sixty pounds, and before that, she said I was too flat chested and single-mothery.
But I am overweight, and the fact that I’m getting healthier and losing weight doesn’t shut her up.
I wasn’t overly invested in this guy, but that doesn’t take away the sting.
I hate that the negative voice will be able to feed on this for the foreseeable future.
Luckily, I did get my first first date yesterday–a mini one, since it was last minute and I had other dinner plans–with a guy who doesn’t seem to be a player, a chicken, or an asshole.
In other news, my first two wraps are here, after Facebook told me to splurge.
Today, I’m exhausted, so I’m trying to rest up before tomorrow starts another long week, watching Ragnarok on Netflix.
Fuck him. He’s an idiot who’s missing out.