I have had some pretty terrible dates. This, is one of them.
Once upon a time I decided to go out with one of those peanut butter boys I told y’all to stay away from. I shoulda known from the beginning that it was a dead end, and yet I still exchanged numbers with him.
So there was a 90s party that I happened to stumble into and everyone was lit (lit: adj. meaning turnt up, drunk, in rare form).
- I hate accidentally walking into a space where everyone else is already drunk because drunk people are annoying af and either don’t know it or don’t care.
- It was a 90s party… I was born in the 80s and though there were some good times in the 90s, I don’t have any business dating anyone who wasn’t born until then.
So now that I’ve walked into this space, my natural reaction is that I’ve got to catch up with everyone else before I smack the shit out of someone for having too much fun in my space bubble. To the bar!
*Sigh of relief* as I feel the alcohol seeping into my blood stream and all my cares float away. The problem with when you drink to try to catch up, is that unless you have that formula figured out to the T, you could overshoot your goal.
I overshot my goal.
Sometimes you don’t need 5 shots, sometimes you only need 3. Sometimes you’ve had a heartier meal before heading out, so you need a couple more drinks than usual to get to a good space. This sounds kind of alcoholic, but I bet you know exactly what I’m talking about. If you’ve lived long enough and had enough hangovers, you figure out your limits.
So now, I’m lit.
That’s when I meet him. Tall, brown and charming… also extremely flirtatious and drunk too. And this is how we met.
If I listened to my own advice, I would have never given the guy I met while face down ass up, my phone number. I’m a hypocrite because I did.
As if there weren’t enough red flags already, he hits me with the “let’s get up tonight” text. By now I’m home attempting to sober up, I read the text and don’t respond. Over the next few days he hits me up sporadically and finally (after going back and forth) we decide on a time and a place… and by “we” I mean me. Another flag.
So now that we meet up again, my sober eyes are glad to see that I didn’t have on drunk goggles when we met. Believe me, I already had an escape planned if he was an ugg-mug. Here’s the problem, this guy is awkward af. He can’t hold a conversation and at this point I would rather watch paint dry.
On top of that, he was suuuppperrrr handsy. At first I was like, maybe I gave him the wrong idea from when we first met. Let me address that. He’s all like nah, it’s not even like that, I just think you’re a beautiful woman.
Did I forget to mention that he also lives at home with his parents and didn’t have a job? I probably didn’t mention it because I learned it on the date. I swear I have a magnet that attracts guys who don’t have their shit together and repels the ones who do.
So now I’m really not tryna order anything that’s outside of whatever little budget he’s working with. I can work with people, but there was no way I was gonna make it through the rest of the date without a drink. Ultimately all I got was a glass of wine and we shared a hookah. The hookah was disgusting, so we decided we wanted to change and repack it with a different flavor. It’s only $5 to repack.
Bruh gone look in his wallet, then look over at me and ask me if I mind taking care of the repack. Real answer, “HELL YES, I ain’t come here to spend money.” Actual answer, “Nah it’s cool I got it.” Ladies, was I wrong for feeling some type of way about a man asking me to pay something on the first date?
I know there are plenty of women who go half-sies and don’t mind picking up the check, that’s very noble of yew, but this girl is not doing that on no first date. You invited me out, whoever does the inviting does the paying. That’s the rule, if I offer, that’s different, but as a requirement, you got me f*cked up. It’s not like it was even expensive, it was just the principle.
Now it’s time to pay the full bill. He takes care of the hookah and then is like, you pay for your wine already?
What in the whole entire f*ck?! Y’all. Now I just want to go home. I said “no” and walked my happy ass outside to wait for him to take care of it. Whhyyyyyyy when I turned around was he right behind me? I was like “did you pay”? Because mind you, he had a couple of unpaid drinks too.
He says, “naw, the waitress never came back.”
B, I left 2.3 seconds before he did, of course she ain’t come back because she don’t have the ability to teleport. Now he’s all like,” let me walk you to your car”. In my mind, I’m thinking I wish you would just walk your ass off this curb, I don’t need ya big fella.
But because being rude is not my speciality, I let him walk me to my car.
Him: I don’t want this night to end we should spend more time together.
Me: *fake yawns* Aww man me either, but I’m tired. I gotta work early in the morning. (mind you I didn’t have to be at work till 12p)
Him: Well, it doesn’t have to end. We can cuddle, you seem like you’d be a good cuddler.
Me (to myself): Who the fuck says stuff like this? Is he fucking serious? This guy must be crazy.
Me (outloud): Nah, you’re not coming over. I’m going to bed, alone.
Him: *pouts* Ok, well goodnight. *Sneaks a muthaeffin unauthorized kiss*
Me: *hops in car and never sees him again*
Misery loves company, share your hell date stories in the comments. *Feeble smile*