A year and a half ago, maybe two, I went on a couple of dates with a guy I met singing karaoke in Queens. The first night we met, we had so much fun. It was completely organic and natural; I took him home with me, and we just laughed and chatted until 5 am. It was really fun. Later that week, we went out and drank wine in some park in Queens (he grew up there, so he knew the borough well). He told hilarious stories about his Italian mother, of whom he did a great impression. He slept over again. More giggling. More fun. We went out to breakfast the next morning at a diner and had a perfectly nice time, but then I cut things off. I just wasn’t that interested, even though he seemed very nice and we’d had a good time together.

A few days ago, he messaged me on Facebook. It was very flirty, with lots of reminiscing about how much fun we had together and how much he liked cuddling with me.

“I wish I could cuddle with you again,” he said. “You’re a great cuddle buddy.”

And then he mentioned a girlfriend.

“Girlfriend might not like the flirting going on in this exchange,” I said.

“Ok, fair point,” he said, and turned off the charm.

But what the fuck. That poor girlfriend! Her man just spent days reminiscing about dates with another girl and telling her that he wished they could stay up all night talking and cuddling again. How inappropriate. Like, super, super inappropriate.

And here’s the moral, kids.

Men are scum. Nah, people in general are scum. But especially when love or sex or romance gets involved. People do ugly shit to each other.