Thank you all for being here tonight. I have to say, this is a really spirited crowd! (Pause for laughter.) Get it? Spirited? Because… well, you’ll understand in a moment.
Opening slide: “Gone Without a Text: A Post-Mortem Analysis of Modern Romance”
I want to start by saying I’m not bitter. I’m thriving, actually. I’ve channeled my thwarted energy into productive pursuits like creating this presentation, building a color-coded spreadsheet of our text conversations, and checking to make sure you all got home safe. Every night. For months.
The goal of this talk isn’t to name names—so I won’t say which woman said she’s “not looking to date anyone right now,” but then, not two days later, posted a story on Instagram of her and some guy doing a couples cooking class, accompanied by the caption, “When you know, you know.” (Glare at @LisaForReal157 before clicking slide.)
Slide 2: “Meat-Cute: A Completely Understandable Misunderstanding”
Let’s begin with what I call “The Steakhouse Slipup.” The woman in question—let’s call her “Sarah” because that’s her legal name—mentioned she “loves trying new restaurants.” So naturally, I booked Morton’s.
How was I supposed to know “plant-based lifestyle enthusiast” meant vegan? When she ordered the side salad—no dressing, no cheese, no croutons—I made what I thought was a charming quip: “What are you, a rabbit?” (Pause for laughter before clicking next slide.)
Slide 3: “Lettuce Never Speak of This Again”
After dinner, I followed standard protocol, texting her: “Hope you got home safe!” No response.
At 12:23 a.m., I sent a follow-up: “Everything okay?” Still nothing.
By 2:17 a.m., I sent a brief (eighteen-text) apology about the rabbit comment, clarifying that I respect all dietary choices and actually had a vegetarian phase in college (two days, but still).
I knew her phone was working because a casual audit of her Venmo transactions showed a flurry of financial activity. “Oat latte.” “Meditation workshop.” “Emergency brunch.” “Bail money (jk!!).” Here she was, having the time of her life while I sat at home wondering if she’d survived the Uber ride.
Slide 4: “Apparently Size DOES Matter”
Now, let’s address my “aspirational height,” which, as many of you know, is listed as 5’11” on my Tinder profile. Yes, I am technically 5’8”, but that’s barefoot on cold tile. With shoes and good posture, we’re talking 5’9.5”. So, let’s round up.
This shouldn’t matter, but apparently it did to Kassandra-with-a-K, as I discovered after mentioning I attended a Landmark seminar and she said, “I love that you’re still focused on growth!”
Later, when I replayed our conversation in my head (as any healthy adult would), I planned to call Kassandra out for “height shaming” me. Sadly, I never got the chance to actually do it, because Kassandra disappeared in the Textmuda Triangle, never to be heard from again.
Slide 5: “I’ll Be Back (But She Wasn’t)”
This brings me to Aishwarya and our three weeks of whirlwind texting. She used crying-laughing emojis—not just regular smileys. She deployed the flame emoji when I mentioned finishing thirteenth in my age group at the Tucson Half-Marathon. And her exclamation point usage was robust: averaging 2.3 per message.
Then came The Terminator Incident.
She mentioned loving romantic comedies. So, I shared my all-time fav, which, as many of you know, is The Terminator. She seemed confused, so I elaborated: “It’s about a man who travels through time to protect the woman he loves, even though he’s never met her. If that’s not romance, what is?”
After that conversation, her response time increased from an average of twelve minutes to what can only be described as “indefinite”—despite the series of thoughtful follow-ups I sent, which included:
· Plus, Sarah Connor is a strong female protagonist who doesn’t need saving, which I know matters to you because you shared that article about the pay gap.
· Everything okay?
· Just text me back so I know you’re okay. Okay?
When she finally responded—forty-seven hours later—she said, “Sorry, things are really crazy at work right now. I’ll have to let you know about this weekend.” It’s been four months, and she still hasn’t let me know.
Slide 6: “Data Doesn’t Lie (Or Leave You on Read)”
I’ve run regression analyses on all twenty-three ghosting incidents. Key findings:
- 73% occurred after I asked “Did you get home safe?” more than twice
- 81% correlation between ghosting and my unprompted movie recommendations
- 100% of women named Sarah disappeared after steakhouse-related incidents
Slide 7: “Questions? Comments? Second Chances?”
In closing, ghosting deprives people of closure. But maybe the real closure is admitting I don’t want closure—I want another shot. That’s why I’ve created individual Google Calendar invites for follow-up coffee meetings. Don’t worry about the “recurring weekly” setting—that’s just a default I couldn’t figure out how to change.
Before I go, you’ll see my Venmo QR code on the final slide because while you all may have ghosted me romantically, I know at least three of you still owe me for drinks and/or food items. (Pause to glare at Laura.) To everyone else, thank you for coming!
And, yes, I will text to make sure you all got home safe.
Final slide: “Please Don’t Block Me on LinkedIn Too”
