I met James* on Tinder and we immediately started chatting about all sorts of fun things, but mostly about how he thought New Zealand was expensive and later, that everything, in general, was too expensive. *eye roll*

He asked me where to buy ugly Christmas sweaters and I told him to visit an op shop - to which he mentioned that op shops here in NZ were expensive as well. *More eye rolling*

We agreed to meet up at a bar in Kingsland for our first date, and I’m not sure why. I already didn’t like his terrible chat and probably knew subconsciously that he wouldn’t be anything special.

Lo and behold, my gut instincts were right. They usually are but I always like to give people a chance to redeem themselves face to face. Absolutely nothing about him was memorable to me, so much so, that the part that stuck with me was how I prematurely rejected his kiss. And oh, how I made an ass out of u and me.

He walked me to my car after we had our last drink. As we wandered over the bridge and went down the steps to my car, I was fretting madly and hoping dearly that he wouldn’t dare try to hold my hand.

As we got nearer and nearer to my car, I realised how much I didn’t like him. I mean, he was an okay guy but when you’re stuck in these kinds of situations, the lack of attraction shows itself in the mind as dislike.

Once we arrived at my car, we awkwardly looked at each other and I lent in for a hug. Let’s keep this as platonic as possible. I hoped that he got my message. He kissed my cheek and then went in for a proper mouth kiss, or so I thought.

I instantly recoiled and took a very large step back. I proceeded to put my hands up like a stop sign and said, “I’m not pashing you.” This, so far, would have been fine. I would’ve been able to live with myself without cringing every time I thought of this.

But no, I just HAD to make a sassy comment with bodily movements to support my words. Imagine yourself saying, “You’ve got to work for the goods,” accompanied with a BODY ROLL.

He chuckled and said, “I was just going to kiss you goodnight, but all good” followed by more nervous laughter and me saying, “I’ll see you later” or something similar. I wish the Kingsland asphalt could have swallowed me up whole at that point.

I got in my car and hung my head on my steering wheel for a few minutes thinking about my exceptional body roll and sheer vanity... I sped off into the night and kept thinking about how I would never be able to face this guy. I coaxed myself into thinking it was because of my lack of interest in him, but really, I was just too mortified to communicate with him and revisit that moment.

I know ghosting is a major dick move and I’m not proud of it at all, but I just had to ghost the poor guy and I still feel super stink about it. Sorry, James* from Canada.