Expat Dating Mom

This guy I was seeing, let’s call him Joost, was very interesting and promising, but I noticed we were not a match when he asked me to help him choose between two khaki chinos and two green Bugatti polos… I said, “Whichever you like.” Because this is what I believe, dude. I am not dating you for chinos or the brand. You can be extravagant, if you like, wear yourself like a fancy clochard, I do not mind. I can help you check if there is bird poop on the back of your arm or zip you up at the back, but no, I will not become the custodian of your daily outfit. I do have a day job. I will not choose your clothes, will not wash and iron them, will not hang them out for you; simply put, I am not good at that. Never have I thought of myself as being good at that. Do I look like I am good at that? Oh, thank you, that’s because I like to dress myself and groom myself the way I like, not the way you like. So it works the other way too: you will not be choosing my clothes. I once went out with a guy who got so comfortable that all of a sudden he started measuring me up as if I was a horse, or more as an add-on to his visage—like a background photo wallpaper: “No, if you wear high heels you will be taller than me.” Dude! You lied with your height in your Bumble profile! Then he followed with, “Maybe you want to try my glasses.” “Why?” I asked. “Well, yours are nerdy.” Ehh… hmm, what? Did I ever say I was NOT a nerd? Did you buy some other product in the shop and you got something else? You wrote to the ZOO to send you a pet, but it was a cow, instead of a fancy exotic snake, so not what was expected. Dude, you went to the app to meet a real person. No, I will not kiss you, sorry. Why? I did not order a narcissist or a control freak; you cannot tell me how to dress. I am happily not looking at your balding head when I wear high heels.

I thought that guy was bad, but then came the Brit, who introduced a whole new level of judgment. He never spoke to me again after I asked him, “Do you really think I swipe right because of how you look?” He described the situation of his ex-wife regularly putting on weight by eating more. Frankly, I have seen the gorgeous woman with a real job. This guy, jobless, not in his prime anymore, I swiped right because he looked like a real human, with kids. He asks me, “Well, would you like it when your partner gets fat?” Well, I for once want an option to get fat. What if you get sick? What if you work a lot and have no time to run? What if I get old and fat, like we all do? Finally, what if I am a human?