I Refused To Date A Don Juan

playing footsie
Love, Self

One woman realizes she deserves to be more than just a number in this Don Juan's lineup.

It's 12:30 a.m. on a Saturday night, and Matt—who you may remember as the guy who slept with 150 woman, but wouldn't sleep with me—asks me back to his house to watch a movie. Although we're not officially together, he's become my non-boyfriend—we see each other at least twice a week. Dinner was lovely and after a few glasses of wine, I'm drunk and giddy. We don't see eye-to-eye on many things. I'll never understand his preference for 20-year-old waif models who could care less about his blasé attitude towards their hearts and emotions, and he doesn't get my love of cute hipster nice guys who allow me to be careless with their feelings. But we always agree on this: we enjoy each other's company.

1:20 a.m.: After pretending to watch a movie, Matt reaches over and kisses me. I'm surprised, since we have not hooked up in almost two months. His kiss is aggressive and sweet, but I'm weary—I don't know where this will end. I give way to my apprehension and follow his lead as our non-relationship starts to head towards a murky destination. The Frisky: 10 Things You Didn't Know You Wish Men Knew About You

1:30 a.m.: The doorbell rings. "Are you going to answer that?" I ask, shaken out of my lusty trance.

"No, they probably rang the wrong buzzer," he responds as he kisses my neck and looks me in the eyes with sincerity.

We continue to kiss, but my mind has started to wander. The odds of his doorbell ringing at 1 a.m. and it not being a young pop tart, wanting some of my non-beau's time, were slim to none. The Frisky: 10 Things We've Learned About Men From Having One-Night Stands

1:34 a.m.: The doorbell rings again.

I stop kissing Matt, slightly amused by his new and extremely persistent guest. I smooth my clothing and adjust my hair. I might be drunk, but God knows I won't let anger get the best of me. After all, can I be upset? "Are you going to get the door now?" I ask.

Matt sits up and looks at me clearly agitated by the antics that are playing out. "No. She's drunk, She'll go away," he says, as if I asked him a silly question.

My annoyance starts to rise. I'm no longer mad at her interruption, but by his flippant behavior towards her existence.