Thanks, but no.

I am angry at man named Tim for complicating my life.

Or, at least, by leaving it he desimplified my love life... As in I’m not in a comfortable, happy, monogamous relationship and am instead dating.

And I hate dating.

Not that I’m at all unhappy now that Tim’s not in my life; in fact, I think I’m having a lot more fun. It was just easier. Meeting decent people is hard. I much prefer to date the guys I get to know through comfortable social networks, mutual environments/interests, or by rekindling old friendships. But since the dating on this front has been pretty quiet, I thought — hey, take a risk, and accept the date from the guy at the bar.

He was cute (actually, he was really attractive). He was a gentleman (never pushy, polite when asking me out). He was international (Russian, actually). He was successful and hard working, an investment banker with a condo in Boston’s financial district (I only know about his housing because he mentioned it to his friend — honest!). And so when he asked me for lunch or dinner on Sunday, I figured “What the hell.”

We had plans for 5:00pm on Newbury Street.

All afternoon I dreaded for dinner to come. It’s so much work, I wasn’t really into this guy, and I’m really not interested in long-term dating or relationships or anything at this point in my life. I like being free and single. But I did the whole straightening of the hair, staining my lips red, finding an outfit that was both sophisticated and sexy… and planning in my head all those questions you can ask when small talk goes quiet.

He called around 4, asking to post-pone until 7:30 because he was in the office with some work to do. I knew it was a bad sign, but sure, I’ll meet at 7:30 instead. He’s an investment banker; delays go with the territory. (After all, Tim was an investment banker too.) I even offered him an out: “You know, we can reschedule for another night.”

“No, no,” he said, “7:30 should be fine. If something comes up, I’ll call.”

He did call... At 8:05pm. He didn’t even bother leaving a message when I opted not to answer.

But before this, I arrived promptly at the restaurant on time (a first for me), ordered a glass of wine and watched the end of the game (Go Sox!!!). I have a rule: You have until I’m through with my drink to arrive, and then I leave.

So at 7:55pm, with no phone call and no wine in my glass, I left. A piece of me thought about calling, texting, something to clear up the confusion: “We did say 7:30pm, right?”

But, as we got off the phone when he called to postpone in the afternoon, I very clearly said: “Ok, see you at 7:30 at Sonsie.”

This is why I don’t date guys I meet in bars.