As I mentioned last week, my roommate and I went to an upper east side bar on Friday and met a group of guys, one of which made me so uncomfortable with his advances that I checked out early and went home alone. The young man was funny but very abrasive and disrespectful, so I had no interest in communicating with him on any level. My roommate reluctantly gave him my number and he immediately began texting me about going to dinner at Calle Ocho. The first string of messages came Saturday afternoon. I ignored them.

He tried again on Monday with the text, “We can’t crush your roommate’s dream of being a matchmaker, so what do you say you go out with me sometime?” I never responded, so three days later, he seemed to think sending me an insulting, condescending message would do the trick:

Not only did he put me down professionally, but insinuated that I am some sort of harlot merely because I hadn’t kept his phone number (because I never wanted it in the first place!). I was so furious, I couldn’t even type. You could call me dramatic and cold but I refuse to spend any time with a guy who would suggest I’m a joke.