I’ve been on my share on online dates. Multiple apps, multiple sites. I’ve been on Bumble, Coffee Meets Bagel, Hinge, Facebook Dating, Christian Mingle, eHarmony, Match… So many. And I’ll tell you, it’s exhausting. You start to question if your standards are too high, or if it’s even possible for you to fall in love this way. I still don’t know, really. I hope. But in the meantime, I do have some stories I can share. Maybe not with the wit and humor that A can share, but I can give a glimpse of my list of dates. The good, the anti-climactic, and the terrible.
I started online dating because of my brother. I wanted to help him to get married, but I always thought I’d meet my person in person. So, my first date was mostly because I got cornered to actually accept a date. I panicked. He straight up asked me out after only 4-5 volleys of conversation. Everyone else waited multiple days or just plain ghosted. I was trapped. I didn’t want to turn him down. That would seem like I was on these apps and not serious. I mean, I wasn’t. But I didn’t want to SEEM that way. I accepted. My gut told me this wasn’t going to go well. He really wasn’t my type. I “liked” him because there was that nagging thought in the back of my mind that said, “You’re being too harsh,” “He’s kinda cute, I could see how others could find him cute…” He didn’t own a car. He was from [insert generic US city here], so he had to take the train out to [inser generic suburb here] (which meant he had to buy a two-way ticket for a one-way date). Already I was feeling terrible. We met at Columbe coffee, though, and I had no idea what that was then. Love it now: where was it all my life. Thank you, sir, for introducing us. But anyway, he bought my coffee. And for the entire next hour I listened to myself talk. Not him. Me. He didn’t ask questions. He was all about his job, and I don’t remember a thing he talked about. I honestly started to question his social skills and if that was something he should work on. I KNOW HARSH. Little did I know that this story is as tale as old as online-dating times. The dates where the man (or woman-brother has had same experience) DOES NOT CONVERSE. I asked questions the whole time and shared about myself unprompted. Why? Because I hate awkward silences. We hugged goodbye. I texted him when I got home that it was a no go. I honestly don’t remember all the men I went on dates with. But A few are notable. M was cute. M I met through ChristianMingle. Now what was wrong with M? Nothing. He was sweet, he loved video games and was interested in me. Now, what was wrong with me? My brain, cause of my profession, I’m super sensitive to the resonance of someone’s voice. His voice was too high for my expectation of him. I couldn’t get over it. It totally ruined any chemistry I felt with him. I saw him for two dates and then I had to say bye. I really hope he found someone. Bananasuit man. Banana suit man and I hit it off instantly. He was clever and witty and texting him was always fun and you could tell that we looked for each other’s texts and struggled to hold ourselves back to not sound too eager in our responses. We never met up. I ghosted him, dear reader. Why you ask? Because before we met, he confessed that he was divorced, and in my mind, then, that was a no-go. I didn’t ask for the circumstances surrounding it, I just stopped talking. I was very tactful. I know. J was cute. He was assertive, and we built rapport quickly. He looked a little fluffy (salmon shorts, light-collared shirt with lobsters or some weird fruit pattern on it), but I thought, “He takes care of himself! Don’t be judgy!” My gut was unconvinced. We decided to meet up for coffee. Pro-tip, take your dates to a place that even if it goes poorly, you know your food/drinks will be good. Bad date? Good food. Priorities. So J started off ok. J started off fun even. He was good conversationalist, and I admit, I do like talking about deeper things, and it makes me feel intelligent and witty when the other person keeps up. It’s nice to talk with someone about things other than small talk. No. It’s a trap. His life’s dissertation was devoted to the evils of porn. I found myself pulling all my knowledge to keep in the conversation and stay engaged in the conversation. Intensity is always good but not this! We talked about the “crisis of modern masculinity” and dating within Christianity and how he thinks it’s all the guys’ fault that in-person-Christian-dating is in decline. Which of course relates back to their hidden addictions to porn (So much lack of grace, compassion, and understanding--- it killed me.) That date probably lasted 2 hours and then we went up to pay for the food/drinks. J kindly offered to pay and we did the dance: “oh, no! It’s ok! Oh, no, I insist” where he whips out his credit card. Boom. Declined. Declined? Declined! What?! Ahhhhhhh. That panicky feeling of not knowing what to do? I felt that. A weird mix of pity and panic. I felt so bad for the cashier behind the counter. I could swim in the awkward. He tried so many times to get it to accept his card and nodda, and he didn’t have any cash or any other card on him. So what did I do? I brushed it off and paid it myself. To be fair, it wasn’t that much. But thinking back on it, why on earth would you not carry at least 2 cards or some sort of back-up plan if you were planning on being a traditionalist and insist on paying? PLANNING, man, PLANNING. I wish I could say that was it, and it was done. That we left mutually uninterested. Nope. I gave that man a second chance. I felt bad for him, and that flattered intellect thing is a scary thing. We went on a second date, and it started off ok! Conversation flowed while we ate dinner in [insert generic suburb here]. But. He did NOT offer to pay for my meal and this time insisted we split it. RUDE. Didn’t pay for my drinks after. Oh yes, that date had three parts. Dinner, Ice-cream, Drinks. Ice-cream was fine (he did pay for that, all 5 dollars of it), but did NOT pay for my drinks at all. I was feeling a little salty. But there was another issue. Throughout the date, I had a nagging feeling that there was a bigger question I needed to ask. Just comments he made throughout the night gave me a general unease settling in my bones. Finally, two drinks in, I asked, “Are you a Trump supporter?” There was probably a solid 2-second pause, but it was enough. Oh yes, yes, he was. He was a hat-wearing, rally-going, Tump-anite. And he went into detail all the reasons related to foreign policy and military involvements and everything. Look, I’m not political. I actually hate politics because I feel bad for everyone involved, and I can see where everyone is coming from. But this? I was done. So legalistic in all his views and no wiggle room for discussion or compassion for the other person on the other side of the argument. I mentally checked out, praying that his man wouldn’t try to kiss me at the end of the date. No touchy. He finally walked me back to my car, and the last I heard of him was that he was taking a spontaneous solo road-trip to New Orleans, leaving the next day. Bye.
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AuthorFriends have shared some pretty crazy dating stories. So I couldn't help but have them publish their adventures for the whole world to see too. ArchivesCategories |
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