Recently a few of us around the office were telling bad date stories and I feel it is incumbent upon me to share one of mine as a precautionary tale. As a preface, you have to know that I’m terrible at dating. I do give it the old college try but you know, this just isn’t my forte, as it were (unlike doing accents, which I am awesome at). To be fair, baby has come a long way from high school (where I, ahem, stalker called one poor guy all afternoon/evening/into the nighttime because he said he’d be home and we’d hang out!...oy...), and am getting better every day because dating, like anything, gets easier with practice and through your missteps, and those of the person you’re dating, you learn what not to do. Though always game to share tales of my own jackassery, in today’s story, for once, I was not the bad actor!
Here’s the deal. I met this guy at an afternoon after-party following a rugby match in DC. We hung out for the rest of that day and in my beer-induced haze the whole thing was seemingly charmed. Yeah it wasn’t. So here’s lesson number one: You’re probably not going to be able to make the most accurate judgment about a person during the course of a day spent day-drinking followed by night drinking. I’m no scientist but that’s seems pretty sound to me.
A few weeks later, Shooter and I went on date number two (I’m calling him Shooter because like the infamous Shooter McGavin, he was super arrogant, but really only had one or two things going for him so was much more cocky than he had any right to be). Shooter had very graciously already bought the tickets when I arrived. After the movie we headed across the street to Rocket Bar for a nightcap.
We order some drinks and I made the grab for my wallet to pay for the drinks. I know for a lot of girls this is an empty gesture, (and not gonna lie, I swoon when my date tells me to put my wallet away), but I’ll follow through and pay (I’ll probably make a note of it to my girlfriends later, but I’ll do it). In this case, he had paid for the movie tickets, and buying a round of beer was my way of saying thank you. My parents didn’t raise an ungrateful lady. I can’t say the same for Shooter’s parents because you want to know what his response was to me making the grab for my wallet?
“Fair’s fair.”
That is a verbatim quote. Not, “I got this,” or “That’s so nice of you, you don’t need to,” or heaven forbid, “Thank you.” Nope. “Fair’s fair.” SERIOUSLY?!?!? Who says that?! In the two years since this date happened, I’m still trying to figure out in what universe that response would be ok in lieu of thank you, and the only things I can come up with is like Tourette’s or severe head trauma. (If you have any other suggestions, I’m open to hearing them because I still need to figure this out!) He was an ass for saying that, but I was an even bigger one for not leaving right then. So here is lesson number two: Be fucking gracious when someone buys you something. Lesson number three is: If the person you’re with is impolite about something as simple as this, it’s probably not going to get much better.
So I open a tab at the bar and pay for the booze. We’re talking and during the course of the conversation, I’m struck by two thoughts: 1) This guy is kind of a jerk and 2) I’m pretty sure I don’t like him. For example, I misspoke about something...maybe I did math wrong...I don’t really remember what I said, I just know it was incorrect. Shooter’s stone-faced response to me? “You’re lucky you’re pretty.” He wasn’t teasing, dude was actually serious. There are a lot of ways to characterize me, but “Has to rely on looks to get by” really isn’t on the list. “Idiot”, however, could probably be on the list because I stayed even after this! So lesson number four: When the insults come, just leave. For real. It ain’t getting any better!
Finally, I decide to put this date out of its misery. I’m tired, insulted, dejected, and just want out. I ask for my tab, get the bill, calculate a tip and sign my name. Nosey bastard that he was, Shooter is looking over my shoulder at the bill and watching me. I kid you not, fucker then proceeds to criticize the tip I was leaving for the lovely and attentive bartender. Yep. On top of ingratitude and insults he took issue with how I paid for his drinks. “Oh, Sugar, Please, you DID NOT just go there,” ran through my mind as he got “the look” (similar to the look Metro Man received when he slapped me across the face). Finally, at this point, I wished Shooter a good rest of his life, requested he delete my number from his phone and high-tailed it out of that bar. This brings us to lesson number five: Don’t look at the tip someone else leaves on a bill and make comments about it. That is per se dickheadedness. Lesson number six: If it’s bad at the beginning, it for shiz isn’t getting better. Cut your losses and move on to the next one.
So while I still harbor some sour feelings toward Shooter, I have to say that I’m grateful for the SIX whole lessons in dating that came out of this experience. I know I’m a better dater for it and ladies and gentlemen, I hope you are too.
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