That One Time I Ghosted A Serial Killer

Today in the office we had an incredible conversation about serial killers and psychopaths. What a perfect segue to this post. How could I not give you a story about my serial killer date to kick off the weekend?

So let me start by saying that I don’t actually think he killed anyone. Please don’t call the cops, this could get awkward if you do. I’m pretty sure he already hates me enough.

Let’s just get into it.

I met this guy on Tinder. I gave up on Bumble a while ago because who really wants to put in the effort to talk to a guy first? Literally not me.

So we matched on Tinder a while ago and started talking. I’ll be honest, I wasn’t looking for anything more than just company and someone to go on dates with. I had no interest in dating him and I never really have interest in random hook ups. So this poor guy was somewhere in the middle of no man’s land.

He asked to meet me for drinks and I went unexcitedly. (Is that a word?)

We met at the entrance and I was very surprised. He was even cuter in person, and we know how hard that is.

He was dressed super well and told me he was nervous about what to wear because he did a little research on me prior and could tell I cared about style.

It actually was kind of cute.

We order a drink, and I immediately take my card out to open a tab.

I never ever ever ever ever expect a man to pay.

I appreciate when a man pays if it’s a date, but I never expect anyone to pay anything for me.

He stopped me and said he wanted to pay.


We started talking and he told me all about him. I was shocked. This guy was like a real deal good guy. He was genuine, sweet and focused on his future.

He consistently asked me questions, something I’ve noticed lacks in a lot of guys I’ve gone on dates with.

The conversation flowed easily.

Our date lasted three hours, and we made plans to see each other again.

He walked me to my car, and asked if he could give me a kiss. He topped it all off by opening my car door for me.

It was a breath of fresh air.

Think about the last few dates you’ve been on and let me know if this happens consistently.

Ten bucks says that’s not the case.

Not even in a salty way, but a lot of guys just lack the effort in going that extra step, and I was super impressed that he was down for it all.


On my way home my friend asked me how the date went.

“Dude, he’s either perfect or a fucking serial killer,” was my response.

Time went on and we went on more and more dates. It was strange because I felt myself actually enjoying his company. This sounds way worse than I mean. What I mean is that I had zero interest in dating anyone, and yet I was really enjoying my time with him.

On one of our dates, we were talking about our exes. I have no idea how it came up but he said,”Like a serial killer.”

I shit you not these things just land in my lap, and I can’t not use this to my own personal enjoyment.

So I said, “Oh cool, so are you like a serial killer?”

He looked at me dead in the eyes and said, “Yes.”

Didn’t laugh.

Didn’t smile.

Just stone cold, “Yes.”


I was living.

And also hoping I wasn’t going to die.

Ok, so I’m exaggerating, but that was the peak in this little mini romance with this guy.

I got everything I needed – personal entertainment and gratification.

So anyway, I started noticing the next few days that the serial killer was getting a little too invested. Did I feel a little guilty? Yeah, absolutely.

I really do try to not lead people on or give them the wrong impression. But I am probably the furthest thing from perfect, and here is an example to prove that.

So I slowly start responding less. It actually came at a perfect time because my work life picked up in a pretty big way.

Wanna know how I fucked up even more?

He kept asking me on a date. Insisting. And I got in this weird place where I felt awk saying no after saying no so many times in a row. So I caved and said yes. I KNOW, WTF.

We go to dinner.

I told myself a thousand times that he probably didn’t really like me as much as I had originally thought and that it wouldn’t be that bad.


It was bad.

You know when you’re on a date with someone and you have that ‘Holy shit this guy is wayyyyyy too into me.’

Yeah. I was like wow I’m so fucked.

And then when I thought it wouldn’t get worse, he reaches across the table and holds my hand. This is the second time this year someone does this to me and this is the second time this year I’ve felt insanely uncomfortable about it. Refer back to Shakespeare.

As he’s literally gazing across the table, an old coworker approaches us and says hi.

At this point, I’m like cool of course I see someone from work while this guy is about to propose and I’m trying to figure out how to never see him again.

It was a fucking mess.

I talk to my coworker for a bit, and tried to have him ignore the fact that I’m on a date that looks way more serious than it is. He turns to my date and excitedly introduces himself.

Fucckkk me.

They chat and he finally leaves.

I let go of the serial killer’s hand and tell him we should leave.

And then I did something even more fucked up. I ghosted, dude.

I ghosted hard. Like directly after. I didn’t even wait to ghost. I didn’t even ghost, I basically died.

I felt bad but I honestly felt super overwhelmed too. Would I repeat this? Hell no. I’d try to be a mature adult and just tell him I wasn’t looking for the same thing he was. But I just completely freaked out and aborted in the easiest way possible.

The whole thing was weird.

And now, if this guy actually becomes a serial killer, I genuinely think he’ll kill me.

Advice for you: Don’t ghost a potential serial killer.


The Girl with a Heart on Her Middle Finger

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