My Hinge Date Said He Only Liked Me Because I’m Ugly — So I Blocked Him Forever
Part 1
I really thought I had finally found a decent guy in this absolute swamp of a dating pool.
We met up at a small, dimly lit local place on 4th street.
Craig pulled my chair out for me before I even had the chance to reach for it.
He ordered a bottle of wine and asked genuine, thoughtful questions about my career.
My previous dates usually consisted of men talking at me for two hours about their podcasts or cryptocurrency.
This felt entirely different.
He kept leaning across the table, maintaining this intense, unbroken eye contact.
A small smile rested on his face the entire evening.
He called me pretty at least three separate times before our appetizers even arrived.
I felt a warmth spreading through my chest, a quiet relief that maybe the algorithms had finally gotten something right.
We walked out of the restaurant together, the crisp night air catching my hair.
He bumped his shoulder against mine as we strolled down the sidewalk.
There was an easy comfort between us, something that usually takes months to build.
He waited by my car until I unlocked the door.
His hands rested casually in his pockets.
A soft promise to text me later hung in the air as I drove away.
After unlocking my apartment door and kicking off my heels, I was immediately greeted by my cat brushing against my ankles to demand her evening meal.
As I scooped some food into her bowl while humming a tune from the restaurant, I caught sight of a woman in the bathroom mirror who was actually glowing for once.
I grabbed a cotton pad and started wiping away my mascara.
My phone vibrated against the porcelain sink.
The screen lit up with a notification from Craig.
I smiled, tapping the glass to open the message.
‘When I find an activity or substance that makes me feel positive, I chase it hard.’
I paused, the cotton pad hovering near my eye.
It was an intense way to start a post-date conversation.
‘But when I find a person that makes me feel that way, I chase them 110%.’
I set the makeup remover down.
‘I can look through 10,000 profiles and find nobody that makes me feel anything.’
A knot began to form in my stomach.
‘I get so bored talking to people and hoping the right person pops up.’
The text block was massive, taking up almost my entire screen.
‘And then some random person like you comes along and my brain goes crazy.’
I chewed on my lower lip.
‘All of a sudden I want to be living inside your skin 24/7.’
My breath caught in my throat.
Living inside my skin.
It was a phrase better suited for a true crime documentary than a romantic confession.
I dried my face with a towel, unsure of how to respond to that level of sudden obsession.
My thumbs hovered over the keyboard.
Before I could type a single letter, another message chimed through.
‘I can’t even rationalize it, and I think that’s what made me so desirable and successful in the past.’
He was pivoting to boasting about himself.
‘To everyone else I am just so cold and careless.’
I stared at the glowing pixels.
The charming man from the local restaurant was rapidly evaporating.
He was being replaced by someone who sounded like a villain monologuing in a basement.
‘I guess what I’m trying to say is something about you triggered what I want.’
A chill crawled up my arms.
‘I will obsess.’
I sat down on the edge of my bathtub.
The bathroom tiles felt freezing against my bare feet.
I needed to know exactly what I was dealing with here.
My fingers tapped out a hesitant reply.
‘Oh okay.
But like, what triggered this passionate desire to live inside my skin?’
I pressed send, my pulse thrumming in my ears.
Maybe it was just a terrible attempt at dark humor.
Maybe he had a few too many drinks after I left.
The typing indicator appeared immediately.
Three little grey dots pulsed rhythmically at the bottom of the screen.
They vanished, then reappeared.
He was crafting a response.
‘I think the truth would offend you.’
My eyebrows pulled together.
You can offend me, I typed back.
I wanted him to lay all his cards on the table.
If there was a red flag, I wanted it waving proudly in the open.
The dots returned.
They stayed on the screen for what felt like an eternity.
The silence in my apartment suddenly felt very heavy.
I gripped the phone tighter, waiting for the punchline.
Then the typing bubble vanished, and his next message appeared—a single paragraph that shattered the entire illusion.
