If he's your ghost, go ahead and call him, honey.
If he’s your ghost, go ahead and call him, honey.

Are you haunted by the ghosts of dating past? You know, those one time dates you swore you deleted who keep resurfacing in your contact list. Wouldn’t it be so terrific (in a terrible way) to phone those random OKCupid numbers that you gave strange nicknames to and who mysteriously refuse to disappear? Just today I scrolled through my contacts and had digits dating back from 3 years ago. Let’s imagine if we called:

Isaiah Yoga Flow.

Oh Isaiah. You suggested a first date at a really hard 2-hour yoga class. You told me it was your “church.” Hasn’t anyone told you not to mingle church and state? Keep your funny business on the side until you know it’s gonna fly. If I was crazy, I could have stalked you each week. Fortunately for everyone, I’m mostly sane, and totally not attracted to you. Men doing yoga is a touchy thing.

Now, I acknowledge that my “waterproof” mascara didn’t help matters. That class is sweat city. My waterproof mascara was anything but. I ended class looking like a post-concert Gene Simmons. You did still take me to sushi after, but neither of our hearts was in it. Besides. You work in Mountain View.

If I did call, I would think you might remember me? It depends on how prolific your dating has been, or how drawn out your poor judgment in bringing potentials to church. I would certainly be surprised at an offer of date two. But who knows, dudes are shameless opportunists, especially when it comes to Kiss.

Jonathan Hannale.

Did we even go on a second date? If so, it slips my mind. We for sure kissed. We met at some stainless steel and wood beam small plate joint with an upper balcony. I wasn’t impressed when later you said my use of a dirty word shocked you. Not sure what else a girl should have to say for herself at 12:36am playing pool in a bricky cool kid lounge when her date is attempting to lure her back to his apartment with the promise that his gf won’t mind. Hmmmm. I did give you a ride home though (no car), and did kiss you (investigative research), but I think all that happened was you texted me for months until I told you I had moved across the country for lady love.

I imagine the call would go…straight to voicemail (you seemed too cool to answer your phone.)

Text: Hey, it’s Annie, the redhead. We went on a date, like, two years ago. How are you?

Text Back: You mean the girl who wounded my soul when she left me on my doorstep (I don’t have a car still), unwilling to participate in my questionably approved non-monogamy?

Text: Yes, that’s the one.

Text Back: I’m busy. Peace.

Leondardo BM

Nicknaming is par for the course in online dating. You’ve got to keep these suitors straight. To clarify, BM stood for Burning Man, nothing intestinally related.  But like the medical term and yoga men, Burning Man can be a touchy subject. It’s best to earmark this trait in case of potential future problems. We met at a divey lounge where I told him about my post heartbreak spree and drank endless diet cokes. He was uncomfortably interested in my dating adventures, had several strategies about saving me from the chaos of my life, and kept inviting me back to his house for lentils. Lentils. It all seemed too ridiculous. When he followed up that night and then the next day (he had hoped to loan me books on human sexuality (gah), I let him know I was just too tender to be dating.  He took this to heart and contacted me every two weeks or so, to see if he could be of service.

I think he would welcome my call with open arms. He might not remember me, but he would definitely invite me over for hippie soup.

I won’t actually call any of these numbers because:

1. I’m in love, and

2. There’s a reason it’s not with any of these people

But I urge you, valiant dater, to play late night reconnect with strangely nicknamed one hit wonders in your catalogue. And report back.

Shout out to Ghostsingles dating website. Ghosts for realz.

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