I’m a single woman in [XXX], a large city. Yes, I online date (doesn’t everybody??). No, I haven’t found my penguin. I have friends who’ve met their partner on their first online date. I have friends who’ve been doing it for years. I have friends who’ve met a soulmate IRL [in real life, for some of us]. And, I have friends who are as gloriously single as I am at the ripe old age of Thinking-About-Freezing-Our-Eggs.
I’ll talk about my good-mediocre online dating experiences another time. This post is devoted to the terrible, scary and downright weird.
It all started at a dive bar near my office. Yes, I’m a busy lady who sometimes suggests proximity over ambience. Still. ‘Costume Guy’ (CG) as he shall ever not-affectionately be known, showed up to a first OKCupid date, with tacos – from another place. I was in a booth, he slid right in next to me, offering me a chicken taco on a corn tortilla, with iceberg lettuce [nothing else].
Aside from his terrible taste in tacos, I immediately got a very strange vibe off this guy. First, I had broken my #2 rule in online dating – Never go out with someone who comments on your physical appearance in pre-date chat. CG had mentioned that he liked that I was tall – specifically 5’10” – and I forgave his appraisal because… as a tall girl, I struggle with men who can’t handle it, short and tall alike.
Anyway, tacos and vibes aside, we started talking and immediately it was clear that CG had no interest in what I had to say. About my career, about my life, about ANYTHING. I tried to give him the “nervous benefit of the doubt”, but even then I knew I was taking things too far. He had no interest in listening and neither did I.
At this point I chugged as much beer as I could socially appropriately skull, ASAP.
Then, we talked about astrology…. need I say more? Apparently my sign was a good sign for his type… and on, and on. [Note to self, don’t order things you can’t drink really, REALLY, quickly].
AND THEN, somehow the topic of Halloween came up. I said I wasn’t planning to celebrate this year, I was working [lame-ass, I’m aware]. CG chimed in with: “I’ve got some costumes you could wear. You’d look great in them.”
My face. I can’t even describe. WTF. Does. Not. Cover. It.
No, it’s okay, because they’re still in the packages.”
If there was a plant I could throw my beer in at this point, I would have. Instead, my gag reflex took pity on me, and I was able to finish my beer in one epic gulp, and tell CG that I had to go. [Insert angry rant about how hard it is for a woman to tell a man [[or anyone]] to his face that she just isn’t interested, but good luck anyway, all the best, etc, etc].
I threw down some cash and started for the door, when CG asked how I was getting home. Out of decades of socialization in being polite, I told him “The Subway”, and he suggested we walk together. I, devastated, agreed to a shared walk-of-awkwardness to the station, and we walked there in silence.
In the first stroke of luck I’d experienced all night, there was a train, going MY direction, waiting on the platform. I sprinted toward it, elated. As I booked it on to the platform, no longer restrained by my polite-social upbringing, my grin knew no bounds. CG however, was apparently feeling bereft, and shouted “But I don’t have your number!!!” out onto the platform of passengers waiting to embark.
Luckily, the train doors closed just behind my tailfeather, and only a few fellow passengers heard my shame as I embarked.