One night, while sitting in my trusty local bar, a super cute guy sat down next to me. He was reading. I was reading. Ok, so he was reading a book about REM – but, hey, whatever, that’s cool. Reading is reading. Plus, he was cute.

We started talking. I tried not to judge him for drinking pinot grigio. When I left, I handed him my number.

Later that week, we went out. We had amazing, amazing cocktails (even though he went for the really fruity ones, but that’s ok). He turned out to be absolutely hilarious. Like, one of the funniest people I have ever met. He told me all about this job he had when he first moved to New York, working for a prop warehouse in Chelsea that was basically just a hoarder who found a practical use for her collection. It sounded like the worst job ever, and the way he told the stories had me hysterically laughing. My face hurt.

We hung out til 1 or 2 and then went our separate ways.

A few nights later, I was back at my bar. I saw him sitting with his friends, and he invited me to come sit with them. It was excruciating. They communicated only in inside jokes. I always thought my group of friends in DC was so insular that it would be uncomfortable for a new person to join, but, next to this bunch, we seem like a Mormon welcoming committee. They also had weird nicknames for each other. This guy’s name was “Sweetheart.” Also, he kept repeating “me hungee” to express that he wanted to get food, because he clearly thought it was funny/cute.

Whatever. We had had so much fun on our date that I still wanted to hang out again. That night, I got super drunk and stayed up super late, and he was at a lame party, so he decided to come over at 2 am. We just cuddled and fell asleep – nothing happened at all, we didn’t even make out. The next morning, we went to brunch. He was, once again, insanely funny. And he totally got my brand of silliness.

I was being silly and saying weird things to/with the waitress. When she walked away, he said, “This is like Good Cop, Weird Cop over here.” I said that the hostess was probably jealous of me because I was shorter than her, and we riffed on that for a while. Overall, it was super fun, and I was in a fantastic mood. I didn’t really feel any interest in dating him, but I totally wanted to hang out and giggle more.

We were gonna hang out again, but he flaked, and then I flaked, and it just didn’t work out. A couple of weeks later, I ran into him at the bar. He saw me, made eye contact, and then quickly turned around like he hadn’t seen me.

I. Was. So. Mad. Did I mention he was 28 years old?

Be a fucking adult. We live in the same neighborhood. We are gonna see each other around. We went on two dates that just didn’t work out. We didn’t sleep together. We didn’t get in a fight. There is literally NO REASON that things should be awkward between us.

I sent him a snarky text saying, “Please don’t make things awkward. They don’t have to be. We went on two dates.”

He texted back, “OK.”

I haven’t run into him since, but I did stumble upon him on OKCupid and send him a message saying, “Oh, hey, look who it is.” He didn’t respond.

Oh, and his profile picture was a photo of him laying in the grass with the word “Sweetheart” superimposed on it.