7 - Gootense The Sequel

See, what had happened was....

You people have really been wondering what happened with Gootense. He'd be flattered. This must be what Tiffany Haddish felt like when people kept asking her #WhoBitBeyonce.

I’ll tell you what happened.

Gootense and I started talking even more. Pretty much every day, which I enjoyed. I like looking at my phone and seeing I have a message from a dapper man awaiting me. As I stated in my first post, I’m successfully single, but ya girl still likes attention.

During our conversations, Gootense became increasingly goofy and increasingly intense. So much so, that he started getting on my nerves. He was entertaining and I enjoyed his conversation, but he was doing so damn much. He went from sending me one video per week of him singing a cute song to sending me five videos in one day of him pouring water in a fish tank and whipping the camera around as he makes weird voices. He went from a sending text saying “good morning salutations” to sending me a video at 6:55AM of him donating blood, complete with Darth Vader voice-over. He was doing the absolute most. So I let him know he should cool it.

I texted him,  “You’re doing too much.”

He replied, “Please enlighten me as to what you mean?”

I explained, “You’re over the top. Things that you think are normal are actually too much. You should try to do things that you think are standoffish, and likely they will be something normal. Smiley face emoji.”

He texted me back: “Never. That's the worst idea ever.”

Ironically, with the most succinct statement he’s ever made, the captain of #TeamTooMuch landed himself at the 10-yard-line of the friend zone. I had a guy read that last sentence to make sure it made sense. Football reference! Hike!

Gootense asked me where I’d like to go to on our second date. I love sweet potato fries, so I suggested we meet at a burger place in Plano. The idea was to play chess, eat sweet potato fries, and drink margaritas. Having realized this would most likely be a friend zone arrangement, I let him know I was going makeupless on this date.

Can I get an amen for no makeup days? Oh, and braless days. Hallelu. I feel like Beyonce might have written Freedom in part about no-makeup days. Yes, the Lemonade track called for freedom as a wife, freedom under a racially unjust political institution, freedom to thrive in her full self as a black woman, but maybe also freedom from highlight and contour. I mean “Freedom, freedom cut me loose. I need freedom, too” could definitely be referring to an extensive facial routine. It's exhausting! The whole frantically rushing post-workout to shower, prep, prime, and paint on a new set of facial features three nights per week was a lot of work! Is this what Jackie Aina feels like with the everyday sexy?

In my liberation I don a low-cut crop top and flowy skirt, also not caring how much skin I'm showing. It's too hot for all that fabric, and if he’s afraid of cleavage he has no business in my life. I hop in my whip and, naked-faced with midriff showing, head to date #2 with Gootense.

He’s waiting for me (who invented punctuality, anyway?) with jokes about how he’s going to pummel me at chess. His hair was freshly cut and he wore a shirt that read “Spacecats!” The shirt featured 6 crazy cats jumping from planet to planet in a neon replica of the Milky Way. So goofy.

I remark, “I appreciate you dressing up for me.”

He replies, “I’ve been waiting with eager anticipation to reveal to you this feline-clad garment.” So intense.

After ten minutes with him, I realize I'm having fun. Being around him is a breath of fresh air after the last couple of boring men with no fire in their eyes. He’s loud, he’s dramatic, he uses hand gestures, his voice changes pitch when he gets excited. And golly, does he get excited! I start to think maybe I was just irritable these past few days when he was getting on my nerves with his mostfulness. He’s endearing. He’s attentive. He’s sweet. I might could like him. Maybe less friendzone?

He finishes telling me a graphic tale of ER trauma as he swipes my bishop. “I hope this does not offend, but I believe your face is even more pleasing to the eye in its natural state,” he compliments.

“You're lying, but thank you,” I say as I advance my pawn across the board.

“I would never lie to you. I’m enjoying the sight of your many freckles.”

Oh snap...did they put a little extra tequila in my margarita or was that a hint of a teensy bit of a swoon I just felt? Hhmm...they don’t swoon in the friendzone…maybe there’s something?

Our date draws to a close after another hour of conversation and competition. I know you’re wondering who won the chess game, and of course I did. I moved the pieces around when he went to the bathroom. Checkmate, playa!

I left the burger place that Tuesday night feeling hopeful. He was fun and he didn’t even get mad when he lost to my great skill and duplicity. I felt a tiny bit smitten, almost.

Oh, and short-lived it was.

I’ll spare you the details, but a couple of days later Gootense decided to divulge a very personal secret to me via text for no reason. He sent me a text saying he was going to tell me about a childhood trauma. I replied “Please don't.” But the secret was told. It freaked me out. Not the secret itself, but the fact that he felt so comfortable sharing such personal information. In my text back I said, “I don’t know what to say to that.” His last text read “It’s okay. I’m glad to have found someone I can share the unhappiness of my past with besides my therapist.” Uhhh no! You haven’t! Not here! I have couple of degrees, but neither of them in psychology! Unless you pay me like you pay your therapist, I am not the one, sir.

I complained to my best friend, unsure about what to do with him. It’s funny how when your best friend needs advice, you summon the wisdom of the ages. You call on Solomon, Confucius, Gandhi in your ability to understand, ponder, and assess a friend’s problems. But when you have your own issues, it’s like you’re a toddle trying to figure out how to get Cheerios in your mouth. In the wisdom of her best friendness, she advises, “It sounds like you just don't like him. You and that tall guy have shared secrets, and it didn't bother you.”

Oh. She was right. Turns out I just didn’t like Gootense. Not even in the friendzone. He’s benched completely. Turn in your jersey, hang up your cleats.

Call me what you want, but I didn’t reply to his last text. And that’s how things ended.

Don’t worry, karma gets me for that. Keep reading.

Test 3: Gosh no. I would rather have my nipples removed.

Verdict: He and I would only work somewhere in another galaxy with the Spacecats. I wish him the best on his cosmic adventures.

Click for Date 8 - Cocky Ginger