Notes to self: Globetrotting writer Gaby Doman on dating

Sure, I joke all the time about my Bridget Jones-y behaviour and the mad thoughts that go through my head about dating and men but, the best thing about thoughts is, unless you tell people about them in a national newspaper column, nobody knows about them. I’m pretty sure most of us think some scary stuff that we’re glad we can keep to ourselves.

In reality, I think I’m probably fairly normal. But sometimes things happen that bring out the inner monster. Usually, the worst thing for bringing out my inner monster is being hungry. You wouldn’t like me when I’m hungry but, most of the time I don’t let it happen. Like Bruce Banner’s alter ego, The Hulk, I know what my triggers are. For him, getting angry turns him into a green evil monster. For me, getting hungry turns me into a pinkish evil monster. He tries to avoid this embarrassing social faux pas by staying calm and keeping out of conflict. I avoid mine by carrying snacks and always knowing where the nearest Starbucks is.

But there’s one other thing that’s sure to make me turn a little nuts, and that’s other people treating me as though I am nuts.

For instance; last week I met a good looking, well educated, sporty guy. He seemed lovely. We went out on a date and had a nice time (I thought). That evening he was telling me all sorts; in typical Thai style, he told me he loved me and asked if I was his girlfriend. I was all “Erm. Sure”, because I know that it’s a cultural/ language difference.

Anyway, the next day my Thai friends told me I should message him on Facebook to tell him I’d had a nice time. I was sceptical, because usually I like to ignore boys to see if they chase me (NOTE: THIS THEORY HAS HAD LITTLE TO NO SUCCESS), but they assured me this was the Thai way. So, I broke with convention and messaged him. He replied to say he’d had a nice time too and he missed me. Then he blocked me on Facebook.

Now, if he’d just never replied, I would have got the idea and I wouldn’t have messaged him again. But blocking me on Facebook made me feel like a lunatic; like I’d been so much of a psychopath that he’d had to take extreme measures. When I told my friends, they obviously thought I’d done something nuts like hang around outside his flat waiting for him or leaving him ten voice messages to tell him I missed him or buying a wedding dress or something equally insane.

Dates sometimes work out and sometimes don’t. That’s fine; I understand. I haven’t chased a guy in years, so to be treated like a stalker made me feel like I wanted to have a chance to tell him otherwise and to tell him he’d made me feel like a fool. Of course, there’s no way of doing that without confirming his fears and becoming scary; such as messaging him through a friend’s account or turning up to his workplace, etc. They’re all methods that are clearly off limits — unless you’re looking to get a restraining order.

I guess his behaviour just annoyed me because I pride myself on not being the person who is overly interested. I never call guys I like. In fact, I don’t even have the phone number of The Playboy (my on/off boyfriend) saved because I know he’ll always contact me.

It’s a rule; I never call, I never tell them I’m thinking of them, I never go where I know they’ll be. I never send texts while they’re still on their way home from seeing me saying “I had a nice time” or anything like that. Nope, I am cool as a cucumber on the outside (on the inside I am using all my willpower to not call him or “like” every single photo he posts on Facebook). It’s annoying that the one time I open up a little bit to say “I had a nice time”, I get treated like a lunatic who needs putting away. It’s amazing how many new ways boys can find to irritate me.