We Had A Strong Connection IRL But My Instagram Scared Him Away

Fine enough to give Bridgerton’s Regé-Jean Page a run for his money, this tall cutie had glistening caramel skin, big brown eyes, and a gorgeous smile that radiated across the conference center.

My heart practically stopped each time I glanced at him. I caught him conspicuously glancing my way throughout the day, too. Our energy was magnetic. I couldn’t let him get away without making it very apparent I was feeling him. Ten hours passed before we found ourselves drawing near one another. Dating co-workers is against my rules, however, dating someone I’ve met after completing a temporary gig was an exception I’d happily make.

Serotonin oozed throughout my body when he approached me. We engaged in meaningless talk, while I anticipated he’d ask for my number. Instead, he asked, “What’s your IG name?”

I’m old school; I want to get acquainted chatting on the phone until twilight–or on a well-executed romantic date. I accepted his request and followed him back. Baby steps.

Each time his adorable face popped into my mind, a rush of happiness flooded me. I’d already conducted a pre-check for a potential relationship, and based on absolutely nothing but chemistry, he had already passed. Scrolling through his page, I could see he had three, incredibly young children, from ages two to five. That’s okay, I can play step-mommy. Or so I thought.

The next morning, I swapped out my motivational morning gospel music for my vibey, R&B music. I floored the gas pedal, speeding to work in hopes of getting to the fine audio engineer as quickly as possible.

I sashayed through the conference doors with an extra sway in my hips–smitten and glowing as my bright eyes landed on him, standing by for sound check. He took one blistering look at me, and as time stood still, his scathing disapproval made me feel as though we were arch-enemies with unfinished business.

What happened in the less than twelve hours we met and were apart? I was flabbergasted by his bait-and-switch of emotions. The only culprit, I surmised: freaking Instagram.

A few hours of him ducking and diving to avoid me passed. I put my grown woman panties on and marched over to him. He pretended he couldn’t see me through the corner of his eye, but judging from the nervous stiffening of his erect posture and locked jaw–even through his discomfort, he would have to face me.

“Hey, how’s it going? You’re different today,” I said casually, yet resolute, peering deep into his wide eyes.

“Well, you know, it’s cause you’re big time. I’m just a regular guy.” He quipped. Completely confused, I stared blankly at him, waiting for an explanation.

“Your Instagram...” He confirmed like I had full knowledge of his insecurities.

“If I had seen your page before I met you, I would’ve never tried to talk to you. I’m not good enough for you.”

I melted into a puddle of vexation. I wasn’t a celebrity or social media star. Hell, I didn’t even have more than 5,000 followers! I’m a regular girl who’s had a career in entertainment which has afforded me many opportunities to attend swanky events; I love upscale travel and dining at Yelp’s highest-rated star restaurants–and yes, I relish capturing those delicious moments. But at that time, I was a broke girl in grad school, making a few coins on the same gig I’m certain he was earning a pretty penny for.

He’d already taken over my thoughts, feelings, and body’s desires in a short twenty-four hours. Though he was far from aware of all the ways he had swept me off my feet without stepping foot on an actual date, the energy between us was undeniable. I literally couldn’t stop thinking about him and grinning since the moment I saw him, and I know for sure he felt the same. And now he’s thinking he isn’t good enough for me?

He was fine, humble, funny, had a sexy physique, and a lucrative career, yet for some ridiculous reason he’d convinced himself he could never be with a woman like me? I was floored. Typically, I’m not forward with men in the initial stages of dating. It’s important I feel highly desired and sought after before I explode candidly. But the world was going to absolutely know that day: “I like you. You’re someone I’d like to get to know. And you’re absolutely perfect for me.”

He sighed and relaxed his shoulders. I felt empowered, quelling his feelings of inadequacy. (Or temporarily, I shall say). I’d soon learn that if a guy was harboring major insecurities, the idyllic lines to boost his ego are merely fleeting.

Pumped up on an extra dose of courage, later that day, he asked for my number. And I delightfully obliged.

We spent a good amount of time expressing our mutual feelings towards each other and perused through calendar dates to see when our schedules would match up. He lived in Las Vegas, but working as an audio engineer for major events necessitated him to spend most of his year traveling across the country and internationally. Still, I was determined to make it work.

And yet, it didn’t work. Despite my insanely busy grad schedule, I was ready to trek to Vegas or whichever country he visited, except his insecurities overflowed like putrefying lava. I probed to see how involved he was with his baby mama. Ya know, normal stuff. Somehow, he took that as a jab.

“You don’t want to date me because I have three kids, huh?” Again, he left me confused and exhausted because I was absolutely ready to become a bonus mommy to the right one.

Despite the endless times I cleared up what he thought was a problem, boom! another insecurity flared up. Coddling a mid-thirties man, who had thee lowest self-esteem I’d ever encountered was dooming.

A few months passed and winter had descended upon the Sundance Film Festival in Park City, Utah. I’d just left a snazzy art gallery Chiwetel Ejiofor hosted for his independent movie premiere. Park City is a magical and frosty cold, picturesque town in January. Most of the festival events are situated on densely packed Main Street. I stepped my leather boots outside onto the icy, uphill sidewalk, with a platonic male friend in tow. My phone rang–it was audio engineer bae. I noticed his name and pushed decline.

“You ignoring me now when you could’ve easily picked up the phone?”

What in the hell?! I peered around on both sides of my street, cautiously nervous.

I hopped into the black SUV. The festival traffic moves slower than molasses. You could gingerly walk down the street and still beat a moving car. As the driver slowly peeled away, I glanced to the opposite side of the art gallery street; there I saw old bae, forlornly staring at me, saddened with puppy eyes in his hooded Parka. I was busted. In my defense, however, I hadn’t heard from him in months, and us dating was certainly a never-ever-going-to-happen-closed case.

How was I supposed to know he’d been watching me from 150 feet away? No human in their right mind would expect an immediate answer, but he did.

“Hey, sorry, but it’s really hectic; I gotta hurry to this next event.” I apologized despite not owing him one. If he’d crossed my mind at any point up until now, it’d be futile. His recurring insecurities ate at him and thus, swallowed any attraction or potential traction for us.

By the time my plane landed in sunny Los Angeles, he unfriended me on IG. Exhausted from the nonsensical mental gymnastics, I unfollowed him, too.

Finally, we agreed: the feeling is mutual, boo.

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