A Note About Bad Dates
I know I’ve been a cheerleader for dating, but let’s be real. Sometimes dating sucks. Really sucks.
I’ve been on two bad dates so far. Grab a drink and make yourself cozy while I tell you about them.
The first date was with a 30-something lawyer. Sounds promising, right? Sure it does.
Well, he called me. Twice. Before the date. The only people who call me are my mother and my college asking for donations. I was not into this.
We met up for dessert (fine) because he doesn’t drink (okay) in Times Square (oh god no). He told me he lives in Chelsea (far from me, but whatever), with his parents (run for the hills). After quickly discovering that we have nothing in common, I spent most of this date asking him about his Netflix queue, which is always a good go-to date conversation starter.
Exactly an hour later, I told him I had to work and left as quickly as I could. He called me two days later to ask me out again. I politely refused.
The second guy was a 30-something IT guy. It was pretty obvious that he hated his job, which was really unattractive. I agreed to go out with him because he seemed to have an okay sense of humor, and hey, why not?
We met up at a wine bar, at which he told me that he didn’t like wine. We ordered a bottle of wine anyway. He would take sips of wine, then chase it with a gulp of water.
Hot tip: If you don’t like wine, don’t take your date to a wine bar.
About four minutes into the date, he tells me he’s lactose intolerant. I already know this is a deal breaker since he doesn’t like wine, but now he’s telling me he doesn’t like cheese?! He probably doesn’t like puppies either, now that I think of it.
About 10 minutes into the date, he’s telling me about his dead sister.
About 30 minutes into the date, he’s telling me how he’s still upset that he wasn’t nominated for homecoming court in high school.
As you can imagine, I’m drinking wine as fast as I can at this point. As soon as the bottle was finished, I think I said, “Okay! We’re done!” and suggested we leave. I could not get out of there fast enough.
He texted me several times over the next two days and finally said, “If you’re not into me, fine, but at least return my texts.” Whoa. So I returned his texts and told him that I was not, in fact, into him. He then asked me to tell him why I wasn’t into him and what he could do to change.
I didn’t respond.