My experience with emotionally manipulating a woman I met on Tinder.
Next time you should just be more careful with what you say. I thought we were going one way. It’s fine. I just need some time.
The following is an example of a conversation I had a year and a half ago with a girl. I’ll refrain from saying her name. She’s suffered enough.
To put my crime in perspective in short, I met a girl online and gave off vibes of possibly wanting more than friendship.
Before getting into it all though, I need you to know how I even got here.
At the time I was 28, fresh out of a long term relationship. I was hurt and eager to pass that hurt on. I had spent most of my life being the serial good guy. The guy who accommodated even at his own detriment.
The guy who sought out commitment and repressed his urges of the unexplored life. That is until I got my heart broke by the woman I thought I’d love.
Stuck between a rock and a hard place, I spoke to my friend who was doing what I wanted. I realized that his life seemed much more glamourous and stress-free.
He said what he meant, did what he wanted and didn’t think twice about it. I decided to adopt more of his ways and replace mine with his.
In the process, I became a stellar student. The premier fuckboy. I got sex on the regular, took pictures with women that made my ex look average.
I kept a rotation and juggled conversations and dates as often as needed. More than anything though, I became really adept at getting women to believe in my intent more than my actions.
Ultimately all of my schemes and plans failed. I lost a lot of the women who cared for and endured intense emotional stress. Thankfully, I learned how to be honest with myself and vulnerable with others, and by the end of my phase was able to leave the life behind.
I am no longer a fuckboy. Mind you, I still ain’t shit, but I’m out of the way so I figure that’s a fair exchange.
Before I got to that point though, I had to hurt a few people. Which brings us to the situation below.
In short, I changed paths abruptly and convinced her that her feelings for me stemmed from a lack of understanding. Gaslighting is what we call it now.
I met a young woman on Tinder whom on initial glances seemed like my type. She was smart and cute so I swiped with no worries. We talked on the app some and transitioned like any other normal millennial from talking on the app to texting and calling.
At the time I was newly single and unsure really of how to date. By how to date I mean I wasn’t aware of how to juggle multiple interactions with women.
A serial relationship guy, I mastered the art of good conversation with the right amount of relationship vibes, which was a surefire way to ensure mass confusion and heartbreak. Impressive right?
She and I bonded intellectually, sharing our thoughts on everything from misogyny to music. One of her most admirable qualities was her ability to listen and make my feelings seem valid. It was very addictive for someone with a fragile ego that was massive.
I’d come back from work, rambling about students and coaching and she’d listen, contributing tongue in cheek humor and encouragement.
From where you’re sitting I’m sure you’re wondering where things could have gone wrong. Don’t worry. I got you.
After talking with her a few times, we met in person at Barnes and Noble. She was as engaging in person as she was on the phone. Not one to be drawn off physical looks per se, I focused on her conversation skills and her intellect.
My conclusion after meeting up with her the first time was to keep things fairly simple and not pursue more.
She was cute enough to mate, but not enough to date was my first assessment.
But as in all endeavors, the desire to get what you want trumps the impulse for civility and fairness.
Alas, I was in a drought and she seemed pretty anxious to act impulsively and risk her emotional state of being on a seemingly good thing. Perfect.
Our second meet up we met for drinks at a local restaurant. The food was good and things seemed to be going well.
I knew that she was probably beginning to catch feelings for me about midway through the date. Poor child.
I knew also that this would be good if I planned on spreading her legs so I obliged. We left the restaurant and attempted to see a movie.
Unfortunately, all the showings at that time were booked. No matter. We drove off and headed back to her place. She lived about 2 miles from the date spots and got dropped off so I dropped her home.
As I pulled up to the house, we made out for a minute. In my head, I wondered would she let me in her house. I played it cool, all the while imagining how it would all play out.
Fate saw my plan and smiled. It was her parents’ house. No dice.
I left the date that night and headed home. Not even thirty feet from her driveway, I was overcome with a feeling of guilt. This was wrong to do. I knew then that she liked me more and I didn’t.
The only logical thing left to do would have been to tell her that.
But how do you tell someone I simply kissed you to prep you for fucking? Your conversation is great, but I would much rather have your vagina?
If I could I would like to sample the dish medium-rare. Rare because I will probably lose interest soon and wish we never did it after all. If you’re cringing don’t worry. It just means you have a soul.
In the weeks that followed, I became noticeably more distant, attempting to stave off further attachment. I knew what needed to be said, but I lacked the courage to do so. What do you do when you lack the courage, to tell the truth?
Simple. You simply convince the other person that what they felt was a creation of their own mind. In our last conversation, I spoke with her and did my best job at presenting my sudden shift in emotion to the stress of my job.
It wasn’t that hard a sell. She knew about my stress and struggles. We talked roughly every day. What was hard was pivoting in the middle of it all and managing to get her to feel as if it was her fault for liking me. That I admit took significant time and patience.
I had to unroll the lie slowly. I started by saying I was unable to commit to a relationship because of work and my stress.
I then added it up by saying that I felt that she was a good person and that the way things were moving, I wasn’t certain that physical actions wouldn’t come. Not one to outright suggest, I attempted to make her realize that if those actions occurred, I would lose interest in her romantically.
By this time, she was now becoming emotionally distraught. The seed of doubt had been planted. I could have stopped her from going on a tangent in her mind, but I wanted a way out so I let her.
Before I knew it she began apologizing, saying that she must have gotten her signal crossed and that she understood what I was going through. I felt terrible, but not bad enough to correct the lie. I would learn to sleep with the guilt over time.
“So you’re saying that you need time to work through how you’re feeling? I’m sorry if I made you feel that way. I thought we were both falling together and on the same page.”
She paused, struggling to collect her thoughts. I could tell that this was becoming an occurrence in her life. Men entering her life, offering to stay and then leaving abruptly.
She wanted love and she wanted to know why she couldn’t have it. I wanted to tell her but the truth was I didn’t care enough to do it.
I let her struggle to collect her thoughts, waiting on the other line for her to free me from the conversation. I needed to feel as guilt-free as possible to sleep well that night. The more she stammered and fought to compose herself the more I saw myself for real: I was a fuckboy.
Almost at the brink of tears, she managed to tell me to take time to focus on myself.
“I know you are working hard and you need to take time to focus on yourself. I just thought that even if things went there we were both cool with going with the flow. I guess I misread things. Can I suggest something in the future though?
Aggravated, I played on.
“Just let someone know how you feel. People get hurt sometimes when they misread their feelings. Next time you should just be more careful with what you say. I thought we were going one way. It’s fine. I just need some time.”
I listened to her talk to me for the last time and instead of swoop into to correct, I told her thanks and hurriedly hung up the phone. The cold weather was beginning to get to me. My dinner was getting cold and the other girl I had to talk to would be calling soon.
Wright World 