Dishonesty and Entitlement in Dating.

I’m alone in the house today.

It’s Saturday afternoon. Everyone’s upcountry. Family members scattered for the holidays and other activities. And I’m here in a quiet space full of food and silence, with the leftover thoughts of last night.

For several weeks, I haven’t written more than 250 words. I haven’t picked up my pen once. But I will today.

A girl I’d been talking to just left this morning after she spent the night here.
And now that she's gone, I am coming to terms with the feeling that it was a mistake.

Not because I didn’t like her or because she is a bad human being. If anything, I liked her very man! But I wasn’t honest because, from the beginning I made her think I could be something I wasn’t ready to be. And now, after spending the night together, I’m realizing I don’t actually want what I thought I did.

That Friday evening, we shared a plate of rice, scrambled eggs, and beef as Netflix lazily played on the TV.
We sat next to each other on the couch. She told me she’s only dated two men in her life. She was actually repeating because I knew this from past conversations.
She was all jolly as she told me how she rushed to undo her braids just to make it here. I’d sent her transport money enough to come and return. Then she said the money was over and she would love a cab and not public transport to return. She asked me to pay for her next salon appointment too. “You’ll 1500 for my braids, babe.”

In the early days she said she was a boss babe. Independent. But now, she’s asking me to sponsor things.

We put away the plate after a few bites and at that moment I carried her to bed on my shoulder with her legs suspended to the front through the hallway. I dropped her on the bed.

It felt sweet at the time, and she mourned while I penetrated. But now, I don’t know what it meant. And I’m not proud of myself.

We sat up the bed warmed in the duvet with her perfume and hair dominating the room. She talked about music. About Bien. She touched my abs and giggled. She put her bosom on my chest while I cuddled her. “I love Bien, I love Bien.“ Then she told me about a tiny implant in her arm. Birth control. Been there over a year.

Everything now feels like strangely transactional in hindsight. Like we were both playing parts, not being people.

She was just selling me fruit juice when we met two months ago. Now she’s been in my bed. And I feel like I don’t want to speak to her again.

That sounds cold, I know. But it’s just honest.

Right now I’m standing at the kitchen window. The sun is high. I see butterflies playing in the field, chicken clucking in the distance, and a single insect crawling up the window glass.

And I think: maybe the biggest challenge to good dating in the world of today is guys like me not being truthful…
And ladies like her being entitled.

Not a lesson. Not advice. Assume it is not from Nick.
Just a reflection.

Talk again soon.

-Nick

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