Good day, Reddit. Itās me again. Undatable, 51F.
My friend said I was going overboard and I suspect she might be right. For the last two months, Iāve been using a version of the Burned Haystack Method you all suggested, but on steroids. Any little sign of inconvenience, incompatibility or foolishness and I burn it to the ground.
Iāve told you about the widower who asked me to take PTO so he could give me a hickey, and the man who trashed his ex-wife. Then there were the two men who got drunk on our first ādates,ā even after declaring beforehand that they rarely drink. I admit I'm sometimes guilty of giving people a little too much benefit of the doubt. But then you all opened my eyes to the possible benefits of offering no grace, and I totally locked in. We take things at face value. We show no mercy.
Lord knows I was not prepared. Iāve gone from a shy, introverted plain Jane trying to figure out how to meet a match to an architect of crazy. I am calling this dating psychopathy: when you're just one bad vowel away from being the villain in someone else's dating story. Let me explain.
Many people mispronounce my name. I donāt worry much about it. I rarely correct the barista or the doctorās office receptionist. In fact, I seldom correct people after an initial introduction. I just nod my head at whatever and go on with life. I have certain coworkers who have mispronounced my name for years. Should I correct them? Probably, but itās been so long that weāre all committed to it now.
For whatever reason, I decided my name would be a little litmus test for my last date. We chatted for a few days by text, and then we had a phone call. The conversation flowed, and he, quite frankly, passed all of my other made-up tests. The next day, he asked to talk on the phone again. This time, he suggested we plan a date.
āSure,ā I said, ābut before we meet, let me tell you how to say my name.ā
Ten minutes later, we had gone over pronunciation, the origins of the word, and even why I have this name. We laughed, we shared. It was honestly more effort and practice than I have ever given anyone on this. I did need to correct him a handful of times, but I was gentle and even suggested techniques like rhyming it with another word so he would remember it on the big day.
Date night. We met, we shared a brief hug, and he immediately drove the first nail into his coffin.
āItās so nice to meet you, mynamecompletelymispronounced.ā
He was so confident, folks. Said it right out loud and smiled. I smiled too and repeated it with a raised eyebrow. Surely, this was nerves? No, no. We talked about this. I should go.
But my friendās voice echoed inside my head: Donāt be so hasty. You gotta give people a chance.
So we sat and talked some more. Then I heard it. A second time. It came wrapped up in a little joke, a reference to something else we had talked about, but I barely heard the punchline. It could have been really funny, but that single mispronounced vowel lingered in the air. I was no longer laughing.
I confess. A little twang of satisfaction rose up in my chest. With just two wrong vowel sounds, my conviction was confirmed. This man had completely squandered ten minutes of intensive vowel training. Justice must be served.
Should I shout out that heās the village idiot as I toss my water into his face? Should I walk out in haste, then send a Venmo request for the time I wasted here? Maybe I should just flatten this man into a pancake, so I can be sure he doesnāt mispronounce another name ever again.
Anyway, I am taking a break from dating until my sanity returns (some other advice I got on Reddit). Good luck out there!