After my divorce, I was stupidly looking forward to dating. I mistakenly thought it would be fun and exciting. I was wrong. SO WRONG.
I had an old high school acquaintance hit me up on Facebook. Already not ideal, but I was just flattered someone actually wanted to talk to me. I checked out his profile; he had a cute girl in his profile so I thought he was just wanting to reminisce at first. I asked him about the girl in his picture and he replied “that’s not my gf.” Never got any more clarification than that; so creeper meter was at level HIGH. We messaged for a while, I invited him to text me and so we made the leap to texting.
He, umm. He was not good at texting. This was some sort of game, but I did not like it. Look, if you text me and I text you back why would you wait a day to text me back? What are you doing?? You either want to talk to me or you don’t, I don’t get this whole “She’ll like it if I toy with her.” NO! Women don’t like that!
He finally gets around to actually making plans. It was like pulling teeth, but he did. And actually GOOD plans at that! He was going to take me to a fairly new, fancy, restaurant. Ooh girl. I couldn’t wait to get dressed up – like I said, I was delusional.
After texting Benny for hours on what the hell to wear, we decided on the following: a cute Kate Spade animal print dress and since it was freakishly cold for… March? April? I don’t know, Spring, so I wore a cute pink jacket. Conservative, closed toe shoes. And my hair was lookin RIGHT (which is near impossible for me). I’m so sad I wasted this outfit. Look at how good I looked!
So, I get to this restaurant and sit at the bar. I was admittedly maybe 10 minutes early. The bartender comes over, “Can I get you a drink ma’am?”
“I’m meeting someone here, so I’d like to wait for him. Thank you though.” He nodded and went on to serve other patrons.
A total of 20 minutes passes; being late is incredibly rude in my book. Especially for a first date! You better have been in a fucking accident, ok? The bartender comes back over to me, “He better buy you the most expensive glass of wine when he gets here.” I threw my head back and laughed, I look at him and said “Absolutely!” with a wink.
Ten. More. Minutes go by. Y’all. I was starting to feel like I had been stood up. My excitement for dating was quickly dwindling. No one enjoys being rejected, especially after being rejected by your own former husband. As I was about to go down that dark, depressing rabbit hole my phone chimed.
“5 mins away” He texted. I wanted to reach through the phone and punch him. I chose not to reply.
Another 10 minutes go by when Ithink I see him walk past the front door. Shit! Did he see me and decide not to come in? I decide to wait it out and see what happens. At this point I already know we’re not a match, but I figured dating practice couldn’t hurt. Granted, this is not good practice, but you get the idea.
He saunters in and I’m IMMEDIATELY horrified. I wish I had a picture of what he was wearing, I’ll do my best to describe… He had a longer-short haircut that makes men do the surfer hair flip; unattractive. The polo shirt he had on was incredibly wrinkled and not tucked into his cargo shorts. CARGO SHORTS. Y’all, it really was cold that night; shorts were not weather appropriate. And not only that but cargo shorts for a first date?! It’s social suicide. It’s a form of birth control. And to top it off he had beat up Sperry’s on. My God. Are you going on a first date or going to a frat party? GET OUT.
We continued to sit at the bar even after I asked if he’d like to move to a table. Which, was probably for the best.
My new friend, the bartender shows up, winks at me and says “Can I get you two a drink?”
“I’d like a white wine, please.” And I gave him a wink. Homeboy got it; he got me the most expensive white wine they had. I don’t remember what my garbage date ordered, who even cares?
Strangely enough, my date and I had a good, entertaining conversation. He’s an attorney, so the conversation was interesting enough and since we did know each other in high school some of the “getting to know you’s” were already done. We ordered dinner, again AT THE BAR.
Then came the check. I had worried about this moment even through my delusional excitement. My personal belief is that men should pay for the first few dates, after that you can split or take turns. Regardless of my beliefs, I had no idea what men expected. He didn’t hesitate, he grabbed the check and put in his credit card. The bartender quickly retrieved the bill and when he came to return it he said, “Here’s your GIFT CARD, sir.” My man, the bartender was looking straight at me when he loudly said GIFT CARD. Seriously? It’s akin to using a coupon on the first date. Just don’t. Listen, I’m all for saving money, but it’s just tacky on a first date. To be fair, I’m not a dating aficionado, so maybe I’m off base in all these critiques. But the texting issue alone was enough to make him unattractive.
My date, I think, was embarrassed. He defended, “I got this gift card from work, I thought this would be a good occasion to use it.” I mean, nice try but you’re still garbage. I tried to be polite and nod, but inside I was like “You mean to tell me I wore this bomb ass outfit, got my hair looking like a straight hair model, came and wasted my time for you to not show up on time, not dress appropriately, and be tacky?!”
He did end up kissing me at the end of the night, but it was just gross. I was so over it.
He texted me A MONTH LATER to see if I’d be interested in a second date. I guess he got another gift card. No thanks.