He started sending good morning texts that turned into good morning calls.

After our first date at Little Trouble in early May, we spoke every single day afterwards.

At 35, he had a good job, nice car, and owned a home in Grant Park. He considered himself established and was ready to bring someone into his life.

He was communicative and polite. Though I thought he was a little corny, I charged it to the fact that he was an old soul who was too immersed in work to understand certain references I would mention.

When I discussed my love for all the new music being released, he proclaimed he only listened to Jay-Z and New York rap.

Which is extremely unfortunate in 2019.

Regardless, he was present and I appreciated it.

We met up at bartaco in Inman Park for dinner and drinks. We were seated as our waiter gave me a confused look and said, “Hey, you look familiar?”

I was there three weeks prior on another date.

I chuckled and asked for a margarita before he made it too obvious that bartaco was my second date spot.

Our round of drinks were delivered and we were discussing work when he stopped to ask a question.

Him: Is that your real hair?
Me: Uh, yes.
Him: Do you like it pulled?

Blank stare.

He smiled and quickly changed the subject.

Taken aback, I took a mental note of his inappropriateness and continued enjoying my plantains and fried shrimp tacos.

A few dates later, he asked if I had a salary requirement when dating men.

Completely caught off guard, again, I answered no.

He said I should, and shouldn’t settle for anyone who made less than $120,000 - like him.

Deeper in the conversation, he explained why he preferred Uber. The year prior, he got a DUI.

He claimed he stopped drinking and driving, but hated going to his mandatory community service every Saturday.

I was beginning to realize he wasn’t as put together as he portrayed.

Thinking back, I did have concerns.

On our date at bartaco, he sipped his margarita and said it wasn’t strong enough.

bartaco margaritas are strong as fuck.

And the time we went to Steamhouse Lounge, he boasted about only drinking Long Island Iced Teas because of the alcohol content.

Red flag.

A week later, my friends from Dallas visited and my friends decided to meet at Revel for happy hour.

He asked what my plans were and I inadvertently invited him.

Though I was weary of him meeting my friends too early, he said he was on his way.

He came in, introduced himself to everyone, bought me a drink, and was friendly.

Everything was fine, but damn was he boring.

There was zero chemistry between us.

Zero.

I questioned myself - was I being too critical and jaded from my past?

Against my better judgement, I decided to take more mental notes and keep dating him.

Another friend came in town for a conference in the middle of June and we headed to Sivas. We met up with her cousin who bought the place out.

Jameson® and ginger after Jameson® and ginger.

Hookah refill after hookah refill.

I drunkenly texted him and told him to slide through.

He met us 20 minutes later and we all took shots.

After almost zero physical connection between us, he started rubbing my thigh and whispering in my ear.

I was immediately turned off.

He proceeded to rant about how men with good jobs and salaries are the prize. And how much he liked me and my toes.

And it was at that moment I sobered up and decided that we had no future whatsoever.

As I continued with my normal work-life routine with minimal interaction with him, I was surprisingly laid-off from my job a week after I came back from Chicago for a conference.

Shocked, I called him and he reassured me that he would do anything I needed.

The next day he planned for us to meet at Republic for drinks to kick off Fourth of July weekend.

An hour before we were supposed to link, he let me know he left his wallet at work, but still wanted to meet at 3pm.

The next set of texts and voice memos he sent were mumbled.

I called and asked what was going on.

Me: Why do you keep sending me voice memos?
Him: I’m driving.
Me: I know, but...you’re a little lit, no?
Him: Yeah, left my wallet at work and didn’t realize until I got home. So, I poured myself a little drink for the road.
Me: ….you what?
Him: I was already drinking so I took my drink to-go.
Me: Uh, you know what, let’s meet up tomorrow. I’m not in the mood to go anymore.

Drinking and driving.

On a holiday weekend.

In Atlanta.

That was the last straw.

Two days went by before I sent him a final text.

Me: What happened about yesterday?
Him: Man I was so fucked up yesterday, I was in bed the whole day, didn’t leave the house until an hour ago. Plus you never said ‘OK’ to you wanting to link.
Me: ...we verbally agreed. lol, but, OK!
Him: Am i missing something?
Me: we were on the phone and I said we can meet tomorrow (yesterday). I called, you didn’t answer.
Him: Well that was after I drunk my liver away and fell down stairs. I was out of it today and needed to recoup. I didn’t realize you called… my apologies, I should have hit you up earlier. I was beyond trashed.
Me: its cool.

Fell down the stairs.

At his big age.

I blocked his number, his Instagram, and never spoke to him again.

During July, I said farewell to coworkers, went to Toronto for a bachelorette party, and applied to jobs.

It was time to be intentional about all aspects of my life.

For real.

I was looking forward to my homegirl’s birthday party coming up for a much needed stress reliever. Her birthday is always a good time, and at her pool party the year before, I put my ring pop in a man’s champagne.

It was the day of her party and we all headed to Tiki Tango to celebrate. Drinks were flowing and I recognized one of her friends in the section.

Super cute with an infectious smile, I was introduced to him formally and didn’t leave his side for the rest of the night.