Since college I’ve done a healthy amount of swiping left and right. According to some of my friends, I’m a “good dater.” I have no idea what that actually means but I think it means that I’m good at putting myself out there. As I always say, “Worst case, I get a free drink/meal/coffee out of it,” (except of course when I don’t and liberated female that I am, it still irks me when a guy doesn’t pick up the tab at least on date one)… Or I’m just a glutton for punishment.
I know that there are good guys out there. I used to think I had met some of them, but then I realized that all of these seemingly perfect boys had ghosted, decided they weren’t looking for something serious, gotten too busy with work, etc. After each ending, I would often delete whatever app he had come from, proclaiming that apps and online don’t work. I don’t know if I really believed that or if it was self-preservation to boost my own ego. Either way, I knew it wasn’t a complete urban legend I was after as one of my dearest high school/college friends met her husband on JDate. Still, I seemed to only attract guys so nuts that at times I wondered when the camera crew would pop out. There were probably warning signs in the messages and texts, but for better or worse here’s the story of my top date from hell.
Porn Guy, let’s call him “PG” (ironic I know), and I started messaging over the app from which we’d met. He was a few years older than I was and there were no red flags in his bio or pictures. When he suggested we go for a drink one Friday night, I agreed. Rather than getting a table in the back, of which there were many, he chose to sit at the bar. Odd move but maybe he knew something I didn’t, after all he was the one who had chosen the bar.
After ordering, he started in with some basic, first date questions. We were making easy conversation and seeming to get along really well until it came up that I frequent a particular boutique fitness studio. He didn’t care that I was a sweat enthusiast or that I went to the particular studio, instead he turned it into something totally unexpected, proclaiming that my love of fitness meant I “have a high libido” and asked what I do to relieve the tension. “What are your porn watching habits?” Come again (pun intended). How to even respond? Luckily I didn’t really need to because from there he just kept talking and went down the rabbit hole of comments and questions increasingly aimed at getting salacious details. He told me about another girl he was seeing who was big on sex parties, explaining that adding me to the mix would bring a good sense of balance and later asked me, “What’s the best date you’ve ever been on?” How wrong I was to think meant the non-bedroom side of things.
As soon as I finished my wine I was out of there. Walking the few blocks back to my apartment I called my dad. The first words out of my mouth were, “What is wrong with your species?” Cut to Monday at my desk. I get a text from a random number, though I had a feeling it was PG, which read something along the lines of “How are you?” In a move of passive-aggressive I’m not interested, I wrote back, “Sorry, don’t have this number, who is this?” “PG, from Friday. Was I really that bad?” How do I put this gently? I called my Dad to laugh and ask how I should respond. Dad: “Write ‘worse.’” LOL. I love my dad. I opted for the less mature, delete the text and never respond. Blessedly, PG never contacted me again.
[Author’s note: The place we went is now one of my favorite wine bars so in the end, points to PG, or something.]
Not so anonymously written by @whatleahloves!