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black-happy-coupleOne of the reasons why I fail miserably at dating is because I never know the rules. About a month ago, I met this cutie at Chase Bank (who we shall affectionately call Chase). As I checked my depressing checking and savings accounts, the batting of the eyelashes and the totally unnecessarily smiling commenced.

“So you should take my number down and we can hang out sometime,” he said after about 20 minutes of flirtatious giggles. A week later we went out on our first date–a cute little burger joint–where we did the preliminary first date song and dance.

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Two weeks later, Chase and I went for a walk and I noticed he seemed a bit down. “What’s wrong, babe?” I said holding his hand. “You mad you didn’t save 15% by switching to Geico?”

“Shut up,” he said with a laugh. He told me his ex called him and accused him of being a heart-breaker. I assumed she was trying to guilt trip him for ending their relationship. It’s what Janes are known for doing. Chase told me she accused him of sending mixed signals, which was why he seemed so hurt.

“Well, why would she say that?” I curiously asked.

“Because the week before you came over my house, she was there,” Chase admitted. Wait. What? Despite my confusion, Chase continued, “We had sex and now she wants to know where we stand.”

Again…wait. What?

The sun was about to set and the sky was filled with splashes of strawberry and pink. It was the first time in a long time that by 6 o’clock, it wasn’t dark out. But the news from Chase stopped me from enjoying it. We walked to the train and this time, there was no hand-holding. I gave him a hug and kiss on the cheek and thanked him for his honesty.

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