He was that guy.
You know the one who you’d walk past on a busy city street, who is genetically blessed and extremely attractive that you get whiplash turning your head to get a second look.
You know exactly which one. Yes, that one.
But he may also be the guy who you think may have the equally perfect girlfriend or who’s standards were so high that only Victoria Secret’s model could attain.
So when I swiped right on his profile picture in Tinder (really as a social experiment) I was surprised that we were a match.
I mean, I know where I stood in the looks department. I wasn’t strikingly pretty and I wasn’t ugly either. I was just… normal. If there was a measuring stick for what normal people looked like, you’d see my face.
I was Asian, 5’3” and curvier than the standard Asian woman. And he was tall, Caucasian with intense eyes and dimples that could melt even the most frozen of hearts. I was definitely not someone who would be his type.
We started with light-hearted, semi-flirtatious banter over text. This went on for a few weeks.
A few more texts messages here and there. Never too much, never too little. Just enough to keep me interested.
To which then I quickly formed my opinion on him. I thought to myself – wow, this guy knows the game and plays it well.
Certainly someone that attractive is in it for fun. Wham bam, thank you maam. Get in, get out kinda guy.
So when he asked to meet, and because I had conjured up this fictitious background story of what I assumed he was like, all I could think was..
ok this could go either way. It could end up as a disaster, I would then block him on all social networks that I may have added him on and avoid any places where he might frequent or this could go well, to which would then lead to a second, a third and fourth date.
Here’s where it gets a little bit interesting. Oh and yes, there was that third and fourth date.
The more I spent time with him and the more he got comfortable with me and eventually he opened up (and let me tell you was a mission in itself), the more I realised I had been wrong. I jumped the gun.
I could have not judged him more wrongly. But i’m glad I was.
We actually had a lot in common. Despite the intimidating Calvin Klein model-esque exterior, he was just as normal as I was.
This is where I found myself slowly falling for him.
My secret name for him was ‘the triple threat’. He was attractive, accomplished and smart. What are the odds of that? But more importantly he was just a nice guy.
Did I want something serious to happen between myself and him? Yes, of course. He was a catch. So why hasn’t it? There must have been a flaw in his genetic code, I assumed.
I searched endlessly and made mental notes of every conversation I had with him. Eventually, I did find it. He was a commitment-phobe. When I came to this realisation, it was such an anticlimax.
So I decided to back off in fear of invoking unrealistic expectations on the situation and disappointing myself.
I confessed that I have feelings for him and needed space away from him. He genuinely seemed surprised at this announcement. I said to cease all forms of communication with me and he respectfully gave me that.
But I was still drawn to him.
I did everything possible for him to have a reason to want to cut ties with me but he really still wanted to be friends. I threw in the towel and let him have that.
Out of all of this, the consolation prize is that I found a friend. A very attractive friend at that but still, a friend.
We still keep in contact though not as frequently as I would like.
Ultimately, I would hope that something may happen or level up but for now I’ll play the friend card.