FD #7 or is it #8?

At the very first second of the very first minute of the very first hour of the very first day that I was conscious of this 2021st year, I read the following words ‘Happy New Year Babes’.

And those four little words created an excitement in me that I just couldn’t contain. So much so, I told everybody who would listen about it…you guys, my lovely readers, my friends, my colleagues. Even my Mum and I don’t tell her anything (because she doesn’t need to know that her daughter is a hoe). And for anybody who doesn’t know the history of FD (Football Dad) then please view nearly all posts published between October and January. I then spent a good 6 weeks obsessing over his uncharacteristic pet name, despite the fact, as it turned out, that that was the end of his investment and effort in our ‘what could have been’ relationship.

And you might be wondering ‘why on earth is she re-hashing this old story? Bringing him up?’ Don’t worry, I can hear you all shouting ‘let it go, love!’

But the reason I am bringing it up is because I went back to football training tonight and as this is how we know each other, he was there. I saw him. Looking all fine in his shorts and t-shirt, flexing his muscly arms and winning smile. And instantly I remember why I crush on him. Damnit!

And of course he was keen to say hello, and crack a joke.

I was not so warm.

I promised myself I would be my usual friendly, chatty self. I wouldn’t let the humiliation affect my interaction with him. But I am not made that way. And truthfully, I was pissed. Pissed at him for showing up looking finer than Adonis himself. Pissed at him for being chatty and friendly like n o t h i n g has ever potentially happened between us. Pissed at him for not helping me with my balls. Pissed at him for smiling and forcing me to chat and hold his eye contact.

Just pissed.

And you know what I’m pissed at even more? Myself. For allowing the feelings of frustration and anger to seep in and not be indifferent to the whole thing like I so desperately wanted to be. I’m obviously not over it.

The good news is, I don’t feel the same intense level of crush on him. Yes, I’m attracted to him but I don’t feel like I want to act on it anymore. And added to that I found myself disliking some of the endearing qualities that initially attracted me to him, his ‘loud’ presence and his height. I’ve never ruled out any man because of his height but I’d 100% tower over him in my heels, so I’m latching onto that. And he’s updated his WhatsApp status to ‘Road Man’ and whilst it might be a joke, I 100% deserve better than a god damn road man, Nike kicks, sweat pants and puffer jackets are not what I want to be sat opposite when I’m sharing my hilarious stories over a Malibu and pineapple.

So that’s progress.

Hopefully, all of that will continue to slowly turn me off, and the fact we are in contact again, no matter how small, doesn’t start re-ignite the fire….but if anybody has any tips on turning my pissy feelings into cool indifference then I would love to hear them!

Also…note to self. Don’t tell Mum anything unless you want to hear ‘how’s things going with that guy from football?’ forever!!

‘Witty Title’ – Pet Names

Ok, let’s talk about pet names. Seeing as I can’t get ‘babes’ out of my head thanks to FD and his stupid fucking confusing fucking mind games! Might I just add that everybody at football, or anywhere for that matter, calls me by name, by surname or by nickname so babes is totally, completely, utterly out of the blue. A l i e n.

Why, Why, Whyyyyyyyyy? *cries with frustration, curls up on sofa, hugging my knees*

Ok, so it was New Years. Maybe he had a drink? That’s reasonable, it was New Years! After all a bevvy does tend to loosen ones tongue but look, many a merry word spoken is the sober truth. Right? So I can be hopeful.

Or maybe he wasn’t merry and he just used the term babes in a casual, friendly way. And yet, if that was the case, he’d have referred to me as babes long before now because we have been friends (OK ‘acquaintances’, whatever) for nearly 2 damn years. Why have I never heard him refer to anybody as babes, babe, bae, darling, anything?? Again, I can be hopeful.

It’s a pattern break. I am convinced. He meant it, he 100% thinks I’m a babe! Of course he does else why.would.he.say.it?? You can try and tell me otherwise. You there with your objective vantage points and external, non-invested views giving you total clarity on my desperate and pitiful situation. But I’m not listening…la la la la la. I don’t want to hear it. I want to be HOPEFUL. I need to be HOPEFUL, I need to know that he meant babes in a non-platonic way more than I need my next breath!

But I’ve been so caught up in his babes comment that I’ve completely missed the endearing pet names given to me by my dating arrghhpp matches; Home Slice, Red, and my favourite, Chopsy. In the space of a few days, these random men have put more effort and thought into a pet name for me than FD has after nearly 2 years of knowing me! And they actually reflect ME. They are personal. TO ME. Anybody can be babes. Fuck, I call my friends babes. I call the fucking jacket potato man on the corner babes!

Sooo nowwwww, not only am I dwelling on the fucking generic pet name given to me by a fucking generic man, who is acting very fucking generic and responding to it all in an equally fucking generic way (WHEN WILL YOU LEARN LUVVY?) but I’m suddenly very aware that I have quite possibly, unwittingly, had an impact on these Hinge men too. Getting this down on cyber paper was supposed to make things better, not worse. Instead I’ve gotta go overthink not just the one pet name given to me by one man, but 3 other pet names given to me by 3 other men. FFS.

Or actually, maybe pet names really don’t have that much meaning to them at all and I’m just doing my usual trick of reading into something that isn’t there. Perhaps I’m way off the mark about the impact I have had on these people and it’s just good natured stuff coming from good natured humans. I’ve never been pet named before, so I’m in unchartered territory, is this a sign? Is this what the emotionally secure, high value, good guys do? To build rapport and position themselves in a memorable enough way so they are not forgotten? Is…this…how…you…build…normal…relationships? 😧

According to psychology today (because they are the only reasonably reliable website offering insight on this matter at such short notice, other than a bunch of tweens on Reddit), pet names are used to show affection and project tenderness leading to an emotional charge. Not only this but personal idioms are a sign of relationship solidarity. Seems accurate, its certainly why I apply pet names to people.

I so so so want to believe it is all of that. I want to believe that FD called me babes because he is feeling more comfortable with our relationship and confident towards me. I want to know that it is his version of affection for me and that he feels tenderness towards me.Is it too much to ask that he just loves me already, goddammit?! Actually, I wish that to be true for the Hinge men too, but I’m crushing so hard on FD it is borderline obsession. I just cannot shake it. Hmmph!! But there’s a niggle. In the back of my head. Saying ‘oh now wait a minute’. Maybe this is just clever trickery of the Menz, designed with purpose to lure women into a false trap. High calibre Menz probably have higher calibre tricks right? Creating a false sense of security; a pet name being a friendly blanket of comfort before they tear out this hopeful beating heart of mine from under it.

Fucking monsters.