When I lived across the pond, I found myself involved in a number of random dating adventures. It surprised me, because throughout my four years at university in the States, I hardly dated. I had a few boyfriends, but nothing serious. But it seems like the second I hopped off the plane at Manchester Airport three Septembers ago, I was “involved.”
I don’t know what it is about Englishmen, though. Maybe it’s something to do with their fantastic taste in music. Or the cute way the “R” sound disappears at the end of their words. (Okay, maybe it’s a lot to do with that.) Though, I wouldn’t say no to a charming Irishman. I digress. I met a lot of interesting guys abroad, and some of them turned out to be…well, not so nice. And that sucks. But that’s part of life, part of dating, no matter what side of whichever expansive body of water you choose to reside.
And as much as I’d like to think that not all Englishmen are the same (in fact, I know they aren’t – my best friend is the most lovely Liverpudlian lad you ever could meet), I think the idea of dating them is, for me, officially dead. No offense to any readers. It’s just that x amount of bad experiences are enough to put me off something for good.
One of the main reasons I think I’m kind of through with dating English guys is that the first time I fell in love, it was with an Englishman. It lasted nearly a year. He absolutely shattered my heart into little bloody bits and pieces (I don’t mean “bloody” in that British sense, nor do I mean literally, of course). Something that’s pretty much guaranteed to leave a nasty taste in my mouth, understandably. And since that’s the most recent encounter I’ve had with someone from across the pond, I guess it’s the one that’s left the biggest impact on my decision.
Something I noticed a few times during dates with seemingly nice fellows while I was in between relationships is this odd disappearing act Englishmen sometimes do. I think it happened to me three times throughout my overseas dating adventures. I even sat down and thought one day, “Is it me? Or is it really just a thing?”
I was intrigued. So I Googled it. Apparently it does happen. (Links below!)
One of the commenters from a site I found describes this strange occurrence dead-on. She even gives it a name: “The English Guy Disappearance Act”:
It may happen after a course of several weeks, or several months, but the outcome is inevitable: The man will hit on the girl mercilessly, and initiate all the dates, then act completely smitten and committed to forming a relationship, and go on to discuss future plans, talk about various friends she must meet, and pay her sweet but not overly-done compliments.
Then, one day, he’ll make a date that he won’t keep. He may—may—text her that ‘something came up,’ but only in rare occasions. After that, the girl will probably never hear from him again. He simply vanishes.
Other commenters described how similar situations have happened to them involving English guys, and suddenly I felt less alone. And I certainly felt less faulty, because I honestly thought it was 100% me that was the problem.
One of my disappearing douchebags even had the nerve to email me 9 months later wondering if I were still in the country (I was) and what his chances were of getting laid.
I don’t think I’ll ever understand why they do this, nor do I really care to. Whatever explanation they could possibly come up with does not excuse horrendous dating etiquette.
Anyway, I won’t sit here and detail every bad experience I’ve had with English guys. I don’t even think that would be fair, because 90% of the dating I’ve done in my adult life was while living in England on and off for 2-and-a-half years. So, my opinion is obviously slanted. And this sort of thing probably happens no matter what country a person is from.
I don’t want to write off every English guy in the future if someday I should once again find myself in a situation where 1) I’m available and 2) I’m living abroad. But for now, I think I will.