Another Wastey Date and the Guy who Couldn’t Wait

Readers, I hope you picked up on my efforts to rhyme in the title. Iggy Azelea may have the market cornered on Fancy, but I’m still hoping to write my own rap, to the same beat, entitled: Clever.

But I digress. S promised you some date stories, and a date story from me you shall get. As I mentioned in a previous post, I had abandoned the good ole OKC account while I was dating Basketbro T. Of course, during the relatively short period of time  that passed between not checking my profile and then disabling it entirely,  I got some a few very decent messages from attractive and interesting seeming guys. As we know, good messages from cute guys on the internet do not come often (see: S’s explanation of Good Message Unicorn for a full treatise on the rarity of such occurrences). So, when I reactivated my account a few weeks ago, I messaged those guys back, knowing full well that it was unlikely I’d get a response since significant time had passed.

And I was mostly right. I only heard back from one of these unicorns. We’re gonna call this guy “S the Third” because he was the third guy I dated with the same first name that obviously, started with the letter S. (If you fancy yourself a sleuth and want to try and guess the name–WHICH IS ACTUALLY NOT THAT COMMON–please see the other posts  re: his predecessors, S1 and S2). Anyway, I won’t spend a ton of time describing S the Third, because he was a pretty typical DC prospect. Grew up in the DC suburbs, became a lawyer, major hobbies included traveling, Netflixing, and following DC area sports.

boring gif

I know, I know, not the most interesting dude, but he was attractive and outgoing, and I am still a bit in rebound mode thanks to Basketbro.

The most important thing for you to know about S the Third happened on our first date. He and I met at a bar near my office that also happens to have board games. (Please know, I’ve been to this bar on dates with so many different men that, at this point, I feel compelled to slip the bartender a 20 just so he doesn’t shout, “You again?” or, “who is the new guy?” or accuse me of running a board game-themed escort service. Though, on second thought, a board game-themed escort service actually sounds like a brilliant idea. I could call it Connect Four Love. Or Battlestrip. The possibilities are endless!)

Anyway, S the Third and I met on a Wednesday night for Connect Four, Boggle, and flirty, competitive banter that involved wagering drinks on the outcomes of various games. We were having fun, which means we played a lot of games, which means we were racking up rounds of drinks.  I won’t even insult your intelligence by telling you the obvious consequence of these drinks, save to say at this point I am gonna go ahead and call “Buzzed not drunk,” the 2014 dating resolution equivalent of the Munich Agreement

drinking gif

So when S the Third proposed sitting down for a pizza dinner at 10 pm, I was 100% in, even though I had to work in the morning. After splitting I devoured a sausage and pepperoni pie, I was adequately sated but thoroughly exhausted. It was almost 11:30, and all I could think about was getting into my PJs and reading in bed. (God, I’ve never felt older than I did when I reread the previous sentence. Thirty, here I come).

S the Third wanted to keep our date going, but was understanding when I insisted on going home. I hailed a cab, which pulled up next to me. I turned to S the Third and gave him a standard first date goodbye:  a hug and a thank you for drinks, dinner, etc.  But when I pulled away, and put my hand on the cab door to open it,  S the Third grabbed me and went in for a full on make out session! And my reaction was something like this…

seinfeld surprise

The thing is, I had a good time. And S the Third was cute. So I wasn’t opposed to the first date kiss, in theory. But, there were several factors that made this kiss completely terrifying for me:

  • I hate PDA. And, while I know that a public first date kiss is inevitable unless you happen to be in someone’s car or house, I would prefer it wouldn’t happen on a busy street corner, with a focused audience that included one slightly impatient, middle aged Indian man who was driving my cab.
  • I am also really cheap frugal.  Those who know me well know that it was already enough sacrifice that I was taking  a cab  home rather than walking or taking the bus. So all my beer-addled brain could think about as this guy was running his hands through my hair and passionately kissing me, was, “Did the cabbie start the meter yet? How much do they charge per standing minute again? I need to get in this cab and get moving!!”

I must have confined my somewhat illogical panics to my head though, because  S the Third was not fazed. He followed up on our date by asking me out again, and we went out a couple more times before I realized, unfortunately, that, in the tradition of the other “S”s that came before him, that he kind of bored me and this would not be more to me than a fun fling.  But I thank him wholeheartedly, because after the Basketbro breakup, I needed to be flung a bit.

Date Rating: 7/10. I’d give the above described first date a strong score. It involved pizza, beer, and board games, and S the Third was good company. I just wish he’d have reigned it in a little when it came to the good night kiss. The make out cost me a whole 66 cents in cab fare.

How PDA can ruin your date (at least, if it’s with L)

G was a very handsome older guy who I met on OKC. So handsome, in fact, that my friends and I nicknamed him “the Cloon” because he looked like a poor man’s George Clooney. And let’s be real:

george clooney dr ross



There is really no such thing as a poor man’s George Clooney. Because anyone who can be compared to George Clooney is still a pretty handsome, albeit aged, piece of man meat. Other promising things about G included his professions (journalist), interests (bartending), and the way he got down to business planning our first date (fun, low key bar equally metro-accessible between his place and mine). Needless to say, as the day of the date approached, I was pumped cautiously excited.

Apparently, G was pretty excited about me too. Because when I got to the bar for our first date, he jumped up, hugged embraced me tightly, and gave me a kiss on the cheek.

This made me IMMEDIATELY uncomfortable. I actually prefer to greet all my dates with a business-like handshake.  I am more into post-coital high-fives than cuddling. (In fact, I consider the next morning goodbye high-five a signature move.) Why? Hugs and cuddling are for family, out of town friends, and babies.  WHY DO WE HAVE TO WRAP OUR ARMS AROUND PEOPLE WE’VE NEVER MET BEFORE? WHY? (Don’t worry. We’re not going to explore my hatred of intimate touch on this blog. I save that shiz for my shrink. YOU’RE WELCOME).

Despite my urge to turn and RUN from somebody who was showing early warning signs of being a Too Friendly Freddie, I decided to stick it out for a drink. And I was glad I did, because G was  very interesting and funny. He was well-traveled and well-read and we had a very spirited debate about where to find the best hamburger in DC.*

*This is a legitimate quest of mine, btw. Think of me as Odysseus, but wearing more clothes and with a healthier fear of the gods. But if you have any burger recs in the DC area, seriously, leave them in the comments so I can come home before my wife gets tired of weaving and is bamboozled into marrying a Porci. (And, if you not only understand this nerdy metaphor but are also laughing at it, we MAY be soul mates.)

Anyway, all was going well, until…

G GOT UP OUT OF HIS SEAT AND ANNOUNCED: “You are so funny and cute, I have to kiss you right here.”

And before I could protest, he had run around to my side of the bar table, and grabbed my face and KISSED ME. IN THE BAR. ON A MONDAY. AT 10 PM.  Less than an hour into our first date. I could literally feel the eyes of the four graduate students at the bar staring at us and my face burned with shame.

Because if there is one thing I hate more than hugs from acquaintances, it’s FULL ON PDA. Making out in a bar/restaurant ranks high on my list of “sins thou shalt not commit in public”, right below those couples who sit on the same side of a table (AHEM, S).  Moreover, this was not some neighborhood dive turned Saturday night dance club where you’re supposed to make out with another 20-something at 1 a.m. while Ellie Goulding plays in the background and your friends first pump around you and pretend not to notice. This was a nice bar, half-filled with a mix of business people and students and other couples  (who I will hopefully never ever see again).

Honestly, friends, after he pulled that move, I stressed myself out so much (remember Anxiety Girl? She got on her craziest tights and took over my body) that I cannot remember the rest of the date at all.  At the end of the date, G asked if he could take me to his favorite burger place the following weekend. I mumbled, “Let me see if I’m free,” and fled for a train back to my apartment.

But, after some deliberation and consultation (as is customary the day after a date),  people convinced me I decided it would be silly to write a guy off for something as minor as PDA, especially since there was no way for him to know I hated it so much. Plus, he agreed to give me a delicious burger!

I am sad but not surprised to report that the burger was by far the best thing that I got out of G. After a couple of dates, I decided that G was not for me and sent him back into the universe to work his charms on another woman who would perhaps be more appreciative. So, watch out ladies. This could be you:

Damn. George. Damn.

First date rating: 4/10. As you can imagine, I docked 5 points for the kiss. If only G waited to kiss me till after we left the bar it would have been a 9.

Lesson learned: Protect your mouth at all times. You never know when someone will plant one on you. (Real lesson learned: TRY not to write people off for little things. This is still a lesson in progress for me, but I am working on it readers, promise!)

First date ever

I have  never been on a real live “grownup” date. Up to a few months ago, I had been in a six- year relationship which started when I was 21. I’ve done my fair share of hanging out with guys, but it usually wasn’t over drinks and a nice dinner. (Those things came well after the relationships had started). Like a typical overachiever, I decided that newly single me had to get good at dating, and to get good at dating, I needed to practice it. So three weeks ago, along with thousands of other people who made New Year’s resolutions to get in the game, I joined OKC.

G messaged me shortly after I joined the site, with a nice, witty message that praised my taste in comfort food like grilled cheese and pancakes. It was the best message I received on the site so far (no body parts mentioned, no generic, “hi”) and he looked cute, so I messaged him back and he quickly asked me out. We agreed to meet at a bar in the burbs for an early evening drink/dinner.

When I got to the bar, I was relieved to see G looked very much like his picture (except for the couple inches he added to his height online). He was super nervous, and I realized that thing about online dating is that people can be much more confident and smooth behind a computer screen than in person. (Or, they could be like me, and just never be smooth, regardless of the mode of communication.) Despite the nervousness, he was a sweet date: he told me he picked the bar because they were rumored to have great grilled cheese, he never gave one word answers, and he attempted the occasional joke. But it became clear to me pretty quickly that we didn’t have a lot in common, and finding things to talk about seemed a bit like work. So, after 1.5 hours of conversation, he asked if I wanted to go for a walk, and I told him I had plans to meet a friend (I did!).

He walked me to the metro, where I thanked him for a good time and told him to have a good weekend. To which he replied, “Oh, I’m not leaving, I am getting on the metro too.” Let the awkwardness begin. As soon as the train started moving, he turns to me, and says, “um, do you care if I do thissssss…” while putting his arm around me. For those of you not familiar with the DC metro, let me set the mood here: We are sitting side by side in some seriously bright and unflattering lighting, surrounded by a combination of tourists in fanny packs, noisy tweens, and uptight 20 and 30s somethings on their way home from a late evening of work. There is a 75% chance this train will stop working and go out of service before we reach our destination. There are all sorts of smells floating in the air, among them strong BO, old cheese, and old lady perfume (thanks tourists!). I can’t think of a worse place for someone to make a romantic overture, especially someone who you aren’t interested in. But at this point, I’m trapped on the moving train, and I figure if I say no then we have to sit in 10 awkward minutes of silence, or I have to get off the train, which, as DCers know, is a terrible idea cause the transit here’s not exactly regular. So, I say…”ehhh…ok?” in a high pitched voice and proceed to focus the conversation on nice, neutral topics like the weather and the traffic. And, then he’s like….”Ummm, I had a great time, I really would like to see you again.” And I’m like “ehhh…why don’t you text me next week and we’ll figure it out then.” I wanted to be up front with him but AGAIN, I am trapped on the train with him and I’m not really into seeing his reaction to rejection live. But I’m hoping he’ll get the hint. He does not. As the train arrives at his stop, he leans toward me for a kiss. My eyes see him leaning in, and before my brain has fully processed what’s happening, my adrenaline kicks in and I turn my head sharply to the right, giving him my cheek. I feel bad, but I just can’t do it. 

Overall grade: 5/10-points to G for being so thoughtful, picking a great place and being  a decent conversationalist who didn’t take himself to0 seriously. I really could have done without the advances on public transit, though. 

Lesson learned: Arrange separate transportation home!