This is a story from a few months back, but as I’m sitting in my bubble bath reading “I Had A Nice Time And Other Lies..” sipping on a PSL -yes, I’m feeling incredibly basic this morning- I found myself thinking of the dating world and all it’s showed me thus far. 

For the record, dating in a new city is probably one of the most thrilling things; no one knows who the fuck you are. I take that thought with a grain of salt because of course you could stalk my Instagram 730 pictures back and see that I was slightly overweight and had braces my Junior year of high school. However, that’s only if I give you enough information to find me. In just over 9 months of being single and free to do whatever I want I’ve done a lot of research. Oops I mean dating. I’ve met some really great guys, and I’ve met some pretty shitty ones too. I’m definitely the asshole in this story, so don’t go all “guys suck” on me; cause I suck sometimes too.  When I mull over the whole dating process in my head I perpetually think back to one specific dating story that gets funnier every time I tell it. 

Picture this: I match with this guy on one of the numerous dating apps I flip through for fun- Tinder, Huggle, Luxy, Shmuxy- whichever one it was. Let’s say his name was James. James had reached out to me a few times, but we all know how it goes: you match with someone but definitely keep swiping for fear that you’ll miss out on something better (men aren’t the only ones who are subject to a FOMO complex in the dating world). Finally out of boredom I replied to said Tinderonian and we started chatting. He seemed nice, and for lack of better explanation I didn’t feel like eating dinner alone again. We agreed to meet for dinner and drinks, and little old me got all dolled up because hey, who knows I might actually like him. I arrived at a local rooftop hang where he had already ordered me a glass of rosé. One point. He was sweet, six foot something and had blue eyes. Check, check…check. When I introduced myself he said “You look like my future ex wife.” To be fair, I thought it was funny.

 We waited for our table overlooking the Denver skyline, the environment was probably the coolest thing about this story- it all went downhill from there. The altitude change from Florida to Denver really doesn’t seem to change much until you find yourself slurring after two glasses of wine on an empty stomach. Here I was, trying to make myself sound cool, even though my date was wearing Rainbows- gross, minus one point- I’m mid sentence talking about something probably stupid, I don’t even remember, when he dead pans “I have an 8 year old.” I wasn’t shocked at the statement, he had made a few prenup jokes after the future-ex-wife dig, and I’d seen a few guys with kids before him. He was 37 or something and successful so I figured he’d have baggage. I was however shocked at the way he said it. Don’t interrupt me, no matter how full of shit I am, le me finish my sentence. Don’t get me wrong I love kids, but I’m not about to play step mommy to a bratty 8 year old- no thanks. Red flag numero uno. 

After about an hour of forced conversation our table was finally ready, and trying to be the lady I really am under all my swear words- I ordered a beet salad, even though I really wanted the fish tacos. Come to think of it now, I should have eaten those tacos- maybe that would keep him away from my face. Whatever- we ate dinner, I faked my girliest giggles but really all I wanted to do was get another glass of rosé to drown out his boring schpeel about paying his bills with gift cards- red flag number 2. 

Finally the date ended and I thanked him, excused myself to the bathroom hoping to flee the dreaded kiss goodnight. Lo and behold, he was waiting outside of the bathroom for me. Fuck. He asked if I’d like to go to another place, at this point I decided that maybe we could be friends, so I agreed. We walked through a dark park (I’m not retarded I swear, it was the only way to get straight downtown) and he pulled me in for a kiss- just thinking about it makes me cringe because GUESS WHO ATE THE FISH TACOS?? James did, and I was totally disgusted. We went to a bar- my ID got denied. At this point I gave zero fucks about impressing this guy, so I shrugged it off and we went down the street for Margaritas. Two drinks deep and as you can imagine I was on my ass. I was a mess. Slurring, saying words that were completely out of context to what I was even saying. I didn’t care what he thought of me, I had no interest in him, and was purposefully being an annoying asshole to get him to dissapear. I was drunk; and I decided I wanted to go home. Instead of calling an Uber, I told him I would drive; just to see what he would say. He said, “perfect I’ll just ride with you and get an uber from your place.” I knew what that meant. Jesus this guy was hard to get rid of. So I did a really stupid thing, that I don’t like to talk about because it was a really idiotic idea: I drove home. The fact that he let me drive home was another red flag. 

Remember when I said I really wanted the tacos at dinner? Well what does every twenty something do when they’re on the verge of blacking out? Go to Taco Bell. Duh. So there I was, sitting in the Taco Bell drive thru with my date who had probably paid a fortune for my tiny beet salad and I ordered not one, not two; but three things. Cheesy Gordita Crunch, CrunchWrap Supreme and fucking Nachos. “Want anything?” I asked, as I looked over at James in the passenger seat. He looked mortified, which meant I was satisfied. I was blasting girly pop music with all the windows down. This is any girls forté, obviously. I ate all of my food on the drive home, which was probably like seven minutes. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or bad, seeing as which the drive was short- but I ate that much food in that small amount of time. As I was pulling up to my apartment my Roomate called, and my phone was hooked up to Bluetooth in the car- my hero in this story. “I’m babysitting tonight and the girls are in your bed” yesssssss, this means freedom. Before I was even in Park James flung open the door and quite literally jumped out of the car, didn’t say a single word and ran, yes r a n to his Uber, which was waiting upon his arrival. I sat in the car for ten minutes after that basking in my disgusting happiness and covered in Nacho Cheese.

 Never underestimate a woman’s ability to disarray your wishes of a random hookup, just because you picked up the tab at dinner. 

I never thought I’d have to deal with him again, until one day I got a text from whom I thought was a friend, I asked him how Sarasota was treating him, he said “I live in Minnesota” I continued to argue back “Haha no you don’t, stop playing with me” after I hit send was when it registered- it was the Taco Bell night guy. He happened to have the same first and last name as my friend who actually did live in Florida. Just my luck.

There are a few lessons at hand here: 

  1. Don’t wear flip flops on a date
  2. Eat whatever you want at dinner (bring some gum if you actually want to kiss your date)
  3. Don’t drink and drive
  4. Taco Bell is always a good idea (if you’re drunk)
  5. Guys will always come back; no matter how much Taco Bell you eat in front of them