Chapter 2: Part 1: The Narcissist: Starring him, Written by him, Directed by him

So, I broke the ice. Not quite how I’d envisioned it, but still—a start. Or so I thought.

After my first date in over two decades, I ghosted Facebook Dating. I was ready to delete the whole app, despite the “council” urging me to “just keep swiping.”

That’s when I saw him: Santos. Multiple messages. Persistent energy. I politely replied, saying he seemed nice, but I wasn’t ready to date. He insisted. And… I caved. Naturally, I sent his profile to the council for review.

Santos

• Occupation: Arborist (yes, like trees)

• Height: 5’10”

• Age: 44

• Appeal: Not my type, but didn’t trigger my fight-or-flight, so… promising?

  
  

The council’s reaction?

• “He has dreamy eyes.”

• “He looks old enough to be your father.”

• “He screams emotional dependence in all caps.”

• “Girl. PLEAAAASE.”

  
  

It was a split vote. But I decided to give him a chance. Because character matters.

I took it slow: a week of texting, another week of phone calls. By week three, we planned a first date—me, fully armed with pepper spray and a pocket knife keychain. Because safety… but also, trust issues (see Chapter 1).

I wasn’t expecting Cupid’s arrow, but it took everything in me to school my features when I saw him in person. Sigh. He really had uploaded his best pictures.

But hey—I’m no Halle Berry. Or even Gwyneth Paltrow off a cleanse.

He took me to a cozy Mexican spot. The food was great, the conversation better. He was attentive, funny, respectful. A gentleman. I nearly cried.

And so began my 8-week telenovela with Santos. He was kind, smart… and ready to commit after two weeks. 🚩 Red flag #1.

By week three, he wanted to meet my kids. I transformed into full lioness mode: Access denied.

He tried to win me over by introducing me to his kids. I stood my ground. 🚩 Red flag #2.

He texted every morning, called an hour later, and by week four, got moody if I didn’t respond fast enough. Then he showed up at my house uninvited. 🚩 Red flag #3.

Week five: My best friend’s parents were celebrating 50 years of marriage. Santos expected to come. When he found out he wasn’t my plus-one, he demanded I see him after the party. I came home late. He lost it. 🚩 Red flag #4.

Hot, sweaty, and annoyed, I hopped in the shower—where all my best thoughts live. What am I doing? Why am I collecting red flags like I’m building a Pride float?

Oh right: the sweet moments. He made me feel cherished—princess energy, compliments, soft kisses on the forehead. After so long, it was easy to ignore the 🚩s just to feel… adored.

But deep down, I knew: I wasn’t that into him. The chemistry? One-sided. I was more emotionally invested in my hair mask than in Santos.

Then, fresh out of the shower, towel around my body, I heard the doorbell. Guess who?

To be continued…