Meeting men organically—in person first—is better than online. I will admit that. But I will also admit that for every date I have with a “real life” person, I have around five dates with people I met online first. Just because I’m trying to hedge my bets doesn’t mean I wouldn’t rather an effortless meet-cute.

It’s a couple of months ago, and a friend of mine’s band is playing a show. Our group of friends gathers for the occasion. We meet for pre-drinks at my place, and are pleasantly soused when we get to the venue. We’re dancing and being goofy when my friend notices someone he knows and introduces us. This guy is cute but I’m just trying to have a fun night with my friends (and I’m already too drunk to seem adorable) so I hardly talk to him. The next day in the murky haze of a hangover it dawns on me that this guy may have been a real fox. But I can’t be sure so I do what anyone would in this situation and I Facebook stalk him.

Suspicion confirmed. He is hot. But I can’t tell if he has a girlfriend. Because I hardly talked to him and I don’t think it makes me look crazy I send him a friend request. Meanwhile, I frantically text my girl friend to ask if he’s single. Silence. I finally get a response, days later, just as he confirms my friend request. He’s single (!) and I can only explain what happens next as a pure and simple manifestation on my part.

I run into him way out of the city at a Starbucks.

I am flustered but I MUST approach him. So I walk up and say, “I think I know you.” We have a little nothing-chat then I get the hell out of there like it’s the scene of a crime. The longer I talk to him the better chance I have of saying something stupid so aborting and trying to pass it off as being cool seems like the best course of action. I freak out when I get into work. “You won’t believe what just happened!” The entire staff of my workplace is married and they live vicariously through my dating horror stories: to them, my love life is a source of amusement.

I get a message from him shortly after the Starbucks incident. “How weird was that?!” Excellent. I can’t help but feel I’m making this all happen. I am the writer of my own destiny!

I stalk him further by perusing his “likes” before deciding to post something about one of those things passive aggressively. Trap set. He almost immediately comments on it in a private message. He asks if I’m going to a show of a band we both like. I say I’m not but invite him for a drink the next day. He accepts. Win.

He arrives for drinks…in a tank top. AND a bandana. Hmm, really? Is this supposed to say “I’m not trying too hard” or is he really not trying hard? He’s very sure of himself, bordering on conceited. We all know that’s attractive, even if we don’t want to admit it. Or maybe this is just my own dysfunctional taste.

Halfway through the date he starts to explain how he was in a serious relationship, which broke up about a year ago, and since then he’s just “been having fun” but “people do fall in love.” I say to myself that this is a mixed message, but is it really? That’s what I want to believe but deep down I know he just wants to “have fun.” I don’t care. He’s cute, I like him, and everything is good on paper too (he has a job, seems stable, and he was in a relationship so I know he’s capable of commitment). He walks me (almost) to my bus stop—which is kinda lame actually, how hard is it to walk the extra 20 feet? But we kiss, and there is something there that is undeniable. Lust.

He goes away on vacation. I send him an invite to this party happening right when he gets back. I only half expect a response but surprisingly get a message from him the next day. He says he’s not sure he can make it because he’ll just be returning but he’ll try. I hold out no hope. I don’t want to get excited for nothing.

The night of the party I get a text from him at 12:30am. “How’s the party going?” “Good, you should come by”…”Well it’s going to take me an hour to get there, should I still come”…”If you want to see me.” He shows up right as the last two people are leaving around 2am. I guess he’s staying over?

I have bruises all over my ass and thighs from his hands the next day. I don’t care. We take a shower (together), go to breakfast, and do it all over again. Two days pass and we meet again at my place. We’re supposed to watch a movie. We have sex. I’m a little worried I’m entering into fuck buddy territory but it’s fun and maybe I can do that. The last time I did that was nine years ago and it ended badly with me in a puddle of my own tears but I’m older now, wiser, I can handle it….maybe.

We meet again, sex again. And I just have to ask because I’m starting to feel gross: “Are you sleeping with other people?” He says yes and I reply, “I don’t really know how I feel about that.” But, then I immediately realize that’s bullshit and I say “I’m not okay with that.” He says he doesn’t want a relationship and then there’s nothing more to say.

I could have argued and been really needy about it, but what’s the point? I shouldn’t have to CONVINCE someone to want to be with only me. He is lucky to even have the chance. (Girl power!)

Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for the free trial. You need to see if you’re compatible in the bedroom, of course. But that free trial expires at some point and you need to make the call. I feel like he’d already had enough of the cookie to know. (Though there’s always that part of you that thinks: maybe I should have ridden it out longer. Pun intended, of course).

We have sex again but I can’t come. We get dressed and he pulls me in for a kiss by the fly of my pants, which was actually really hot but I can’t share a dick. I can’t. I won’t. I go cold. He drops me off and says, “call me” and all I can respond with is “why?” I get out of the car. I feel proud of myself for having some self-respect.

By cutting this “relationship” off I’m protecting myself. I don’t want to develop real feelings for someone who doesn’t want me that way. But I can’t stop thinking about the sex. It’s all consuming. I don’t even think I miss him as a person at all but the sexual desire is tricking me. This feels like a big deal, helped along by the very weird fact that I keep running into him. Life is cruel like that. We act like friends when we run into each other but it’s still unnerving to be so cavalier with someone who has had their face in your vag.

The weekend arrives and I get a little tipsy on another bad blind date. I don’t have anyone to stop me so I drunk text him. I am trying to booty text him. But how does that work? I just start with “hey there.” I imagine if it’s on then he’ll respond with something like “is this what I think it is?” and then I could say “maybe” and then we’d be doing it on my kitchen table in no time. But, alas, this is not what happens.

At any other time of day the conversation we have would be innocuous because it’s essentially the kind of chitchat that happens between strangers. “How are you doing?” “How’s your job?”…etc. Except it’s 1am. No one makes mention of the time and it ends as abruptly as it starts with me not answering his last text, which didn’t need answering anyway. He didn’t try to keep it going. Was he just answering to be polite? I try to forget it.

A few weeks go by and I run into him again. I’m with a friend. And as soon as we’re out of earshot she says “holy sexual tension!”  He couldn’t keep his hands off me, touching my necklace and stroking my arm. She said I was super cool about it (because I needed to redeem myself after the drunk texting incident). Are we just going to keep going back and forth playing it cool? I guess I just assumed that he would realize he DOES want a relationship and come crawling back. But if I analyze things rationally, he doesn’t know me well enough for that to happen. There isn’t enough “us” there to run back to.

He starts following me on Instagram.

My social life suddenly looks a lot more interesting. Look at me at a concert! Look at me out with friends! Look at me with this random hot guy (who’s really just my friend’s boyfriend on loan)! Am I behaving like a maniac? Or is this just what people do now because we are so crippled by our fear of rejection that we can only communicate with wildly staged photos and vague status updates. I don’t follow him back but that doesn’t mean I don’t periodically check on his feed.

One day after a three second tug of war with myself I check to see what’s new for him and there it is. Dinner for two tagged with a cute girl. The next photo is breakfast for two with the same girl tagged in a comment “you are so lucky.” My heart sinks. I immediately feel awful. How could I be so stupid? I thought he didn’t want a relationship! Surely you don’t go tagging people in couple-y meal shots if you’re not serious. And I know I could be misinterpreting the photos but I can’t keep kidding myself, this has got to stop. So I believe that this is what’s happening and bear down. I’ve been going on so many bad dates that I’ve been treating him like the last bastion of hope for my sex life. I cry myself to sleep.

The next day I feel remarkably fine with it. I realize that it wasn’t him; it was the sex. I was denying myself something I thought I could just order by picking up the phone, but that’s no longer an option. He’s with cute dinner-breakfast girl. He’s off the menu. And I would never go for someone else’s guy. I feel liberated and also a little stupid for making such a big deal out of him. But I realize I need to go easy on myself since this is the first person I’ve slept with since my big break up.

The next week I see him on the street walking right beside me. This time I look the other way.