Why Does Everyone Assume I’m Dating That Guy?

We spoke once in the hallway. Now I’m being congratulated on my relationship with a sentient grease stain.

You ever exchange a single, meaningless interaction with someone, only to find out the entire world has now assigned you to them romantically?

Like, you nodded in their direction once, and suddenly, people are asking when the wedding is?

No? Just me?

Because I cannot stress this enough—the people I get “shipped” with are never the hot ones.

No one ever assumes I’m dating the tall, mysterious stranger with well-fitted jeans and a haunted but intriguing past. No one thinks I’m entangled in a whirlwind romance with someone who reads books and knows how to layer clothing.

No.

They always think I’m with the least desirable man in a three-mile radius.

The human equivalent of an unflushed public toilet.

The guy who gives off the distinct energy of someone who has been banned from multiple buffets.

The man whose browser history would make the FBI agent monitoring him request a transfer.

And at some point, I have to stop and ask myself:

What about me gives you the impression that I would date this person?

Do I have a neon sign above my head that says "I LOVE MEN WHO EXPLAIN MOVIES TO ME"? Did I accidentally wear a t-shirt that says "PLEASE ASSUME I'M DATING THE GUY WHO DOESN'T UNDERSTAND DEODORANT"?

I've checked my past lives. I've consulted psychics. I've done a full spiritual cleanse. There is no reason the universe should be punishing me this way.

A Single, Non-Flirty Exchange That Dooms Me

The worst part? I never do anything to cause this.

• I didn’t touch his arm.

• I didn’t laugh at his joke.

• I didn’t give any signals that I was romantically invested.

I simply stood there, exchanging bare minimum human politeness, and somehow, this was enough evidence for people to assume I am deeply in love with him.

It’s never a guy I actually know.
It’s never someone I’ve had a deep conversation with.
It’s always some random dude I’ve barely spoken to, and now, for reasons beyond my comprehension, I have been assigned to him.

One time, I asked a guy where the bathroom was. The next day, someone asked how long we’d been “talking.”

We hadn't been "talking." I needed to pee. This wasn't the beginning of a rom-com. This was basic human navigation.

Who Is This Man? And Why Is He Always a Disaster?

Without fail, this guy is always a problem.

• He does not wash his hair.

• He wears cargo shorts in the winter.

• He has the vibe of someone who gets winded from chewing too aggressively.

• His bed is a mattress on the floor with a single flat pillow and a sleeping bag instead of proper sheets.

One time, someone assumed I was dating a man who exclusively drank Monster Energy and wore a visor unironically.

Another time, I was accused of being in a “thing” with a guy who once explained cryptocurrency to me for 45 minutes unprompted.

Why?

Why?

Did I commit some terrible crime in a past life? Was I Genghis Khan? Did I invent pop-up ads? What cosmic debt am I paying?

What signal did I put out into the universe that made this happen?

The Denial Phase

Once the rumor starts, it does not die.

It does not matter how many times I say, “No, we are not dating.”
It does not matter how many times I explain, “We are literally just standing in the same room.”
It does not matter if the man himself says, “I don’t even have her number.”

People will not let it go.

And now?

Now I am suffering.

Now I have to justify my entire existence.

Now I have to actively make sure I am never in the same vicinity as him again, because if we are ever spotted together, it will confirm the delusion.

I'm basically Jason Bourne, but instead of running from government assassins, I'm running from the possibility of someone seeing me and Bad Decision Brian in the same aisle at the grocery store and planning our baby shower.

So This Is Who You Think I Deserve?

At some point, this stops being about him and starts being about me.

Because this is an attack on my personal brand.

You really took one look at me and thought, “Yes, this woman would be with THIS man.”

This walking violation of basic hygiene.

This individual who definitely has a favorite Joe Rogan episode.

Do you know what that does to a person's self-esteem? To have people look at you standing next to a man whose T-shirt has permanent armpit stains and think, "Ah yes, a perfect match"?

And now I have to live with the knowledge that people think this is my level.

This is my best option.

Severing All Ties With My Alleged Boyfriend

The only way to fix this?

Full ghost mode.

• I stop acknowledging anyone who is a male person.

• I never make eye contact.

• If I see a man in public, I disappear into a crowd like I’m fleeing a government assassination attempt.

Because at this point, we are enemies by default.

He may not know this.
He may not have done anything wrong.
But he has ruined my life.

So now, I must vanish.

"Remember Michelle? The one who used to hang out here? I heard she moved to Alaska to study wolves."

I Will Die Before I Let This Happen Again

Next time someone makes an assumption about my love life, I am shutting it down immediately.

If anyone ever says, "Oh, are you and [ogre man] a thing?" I am not playing nice.

I am going full denial mode.

I will fake a boyfriend.
I will show them AI-generated photos of me with Henry Cavill.
I will swear an oath in front of a priest.
I will get a tattoo across my forehead that says "NOT DATING THAT GUY."

Because I refuse to let people think I am dating someone who has never moisturized in his life.

The next time someone asks me about my "boyfriend," I'm going to ask them about their relationship with their houseplant. Or their relationship with their desk chair. Or their relationship with the concept of minding their own business.

I'm single. I'm thriving. And I'm not dating that guy.

But watch—tomorrow someone will see me texting away and ask if I'm writing my wedding vows.

And then I give up.