I’ve been texting with this guy since the 4th of July. He seems nice. Conversation flowed very well and he seemed to like me – we had quite a bit in common. 

Then conversation slowed to that of a leaky faucet. Drip. Drip. Drip. And given that I thought he was cute and that we had some stuff in common, this was disappointing. I tried asking interesting questions. I tried sending interesting pictures. He’d like them – showing he read them – but wouldn’t really respond. 

On Sunday, I asked him if he was busy or if he wasn’t feeling it. He said he was busy and had a lot of projects going on. 

Uh huh. 

I told him that I hadn’t been sure because it seemed like he had lost interest and I didn’t want to be a pest. 

His response? “You’re fine.”

I see. 

This is what I want to say, but won’t:

Look, pal. I like that we seem to have a lot in common. I think you’re cute. You should know that I’m a hell of a catch. But I’m not looking for someone who is going to put me on the back burner, especially at the beginning. 

I’m not trying to press you to feel something that isn’t there, but I’m also not going to stick around and just wait for any breadcrumbs of attention you deem worthy to share with me. I mean, I gave you my number and suggested we switch from Bumble’s shitty messaging and you didn’t take me up on it. 

I get that your other “projects” may be other ladies. I’ve been there. But if you’re trying to balance said “projects,” you’re doing a piss poor job of it. 

In my profile, it plainly states, “I’m looking for someone who digs me, who puts in the effort, and who isn’t remotely tepid.” You, my dear, are room fucking temperature. 

Maybe it was because I told you I didn’t want to engage in sexting with you in our first conversation because that tends to lead to hook-ups or nothing. Maybe it was because I made it clear when you said you’ve been separated since last fall that I wasn’t interested in being a test subject to see whether or not you wanted to resume your previous relationship. I don’t know what cooled your jets. 

It’s not that I expect or want good morning texts. I don’t want a pen pal either. But put some fucking effort into it. 

Perhaps when you’re less busy with your “projects,” you’ll turn up the temperature. Not sure if I’ll still be around. But you have my number.