Just took a quick spin around the Future Spinster blog, and I’m liking what I’m seeing. I’m always interested in tales from the Asheville dating scene. These are told from the female perspective. A sample:
I have always known that Asheville is a small town with an even smaller dating scene, but in the next hour, shit got real.
My soon to be, new BFF pulled out her phone and opened up her OKcupid app. She scrolled through all of her messages (I have the tendency to delete the message once I am done with the man) to see if there were any other overlaps. Turns out, we have messaged back and forth with A LOT of the same men.
It also turns out we have dated not one, not two, but three of the same men. Dated three, seriously dated two and had our hearts broken (or at least bruised) by the same guy.
I wouldn’t define myself as a jealous type (we have already established that I was cool with the fact that she dated the current gentleman-friend), but during the breakup process with The Heart Bruiser, the last thing I told him before he walked out my door for the last time was, “if I ever see you kissing another girl, I will punch her in the face.”
I say crazy things when I am emotional. But I usually mean what I say.
Since I liked my hairdresser so much, I decided not to punch her in the face. I did, however, have an unbelievable sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. You know the one I’m talking about. It was a little awkward comparing and contrasting stories at first, but as we continued talking, my stomach, while in a constant state of tension, slowly began to rise up from the sunken pits of hell that it previously reached.
She described The Heart Bruiser as a bad addiction, and I could relate. It would explain that when our relationship ended, even though I did the ending, I cried like a baby. Also, the withdrawals were intense. I got that same stomach sinking feeling whenever I walked past the Yacht Club, The Lot, the orange rhino and pretty much anytime I saw a bearded guy with tattoos (the majority male population in Asheville). The fact is, even though I wanted to be with this guy, I didn’t have fun with him. He treated me like I wouldn’t understand the inner workings of his mind, while he couldn’t give a shit about what went on in mine, and the sex was… infrequent. But for some reason the thought of him with someone else (nevertheless someone I liked and admired) still made me want to wretch.